Best 22487 quotes in «art quotes» category

Love does the job. travelling too. writing does it. music. Also art, whisky, dark-coloured flowers and watching the landscape change in October. Driving on a small road somewhere in Italy with a beautiful boy and I don’t want to be anywhere else in the whole wide world than right there, with him, that very car, smiling. But I close my eyes for one second and the moment is gone. I’m back to getting high on empty roads somewhere in Sweden and I’m the loneliest girl in the whole damn world and I just want all things beautiful. I just want the music, the literature, the art and the moments of driving in a car with a beautiful boy in Italy. but here, alone, I have no cares in the world. I have no cares in the world. I just want it all to be beautiful.

Love. I'm not capable of it, can't even approach it from the side, let alone head-on. Nor am I alone in this—everyone is like this, the liars. Singing songs and painting pictures and telling each other stories about love and its mysteries and marvelous properties, myths to keep morale up—maybe one day it'll materialize. But I can say it ten times a day, a hundred times, 'I love you,' to anyone and anything, to a woman, to a pair of pruning shears. I've said it without meaning it at all, taken love's name in vain and gone dismally unpunished. Love will never be real, or if it is, it has no power. No power. There's only covetousness, and if what we covet can't be won with gentle words—and often it can't—then there is force.

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Love is an art and this love lacks artists.

Love is artists' foremost muse.

Love is an art, Berk. Just like painting or music. Some painters draw mere lines, scratches on the canvas and call them art; some paint stars studded skies like van Gogh; or Chopin’s music conquers the hearts of millions while the execrable disco music blaring out of the open windows of a car have also their audience. Some describe love in high-flown flowery language and you identify yourself with the hero and the heroine and feel yourself in the seventh heaven while some give such a lamentable picture of it that you almost curse it!

Love is often just an act of pretending that it exists.

Love is the seeking of a way of life. A way that cannot be sought alone. Poetry is the residence of all spiritual and physical things. Love is the transmitting of the acceptances of the things we find whilst we seek. Poetry is the blending of both love and art. Love is the giving of life, it is not charity, which is the giving of things. Poetry is the giving of self, it is the taking and giving of beauty. When combined, love and poetry colludes to turn on the light of our inner folds, done so with the appointed awareness of being in the presence of Source.

Love is wind for the soul

...love of art—be it poetry, storytelling, painting, sculpture, or music—enables people to transcend any barriers man has yet devised.

Luggage and guests did not travel together ... in fact, luggage went by a different route, so suitcases could be distributed to guest rooms before they arrived

Lucas continued, speaking pensively in a dreamy tone, "The painters, you know, the painters, what they did for Christianity!

Lulit had bemoaned the fact that, despite the three Ivy League degrees between us, it still came down to the length of our skirts, but we’d stuck to our mantra—Go. Sell. Art. To rich white men—and sold out our entire booth at the fair.

lying on marble the lazy cat gazes at dying stars

LYNDA (TO TINY): Look forward to the moment when it falls apart. Look forward to the moment when you must rearrange your heart. It might feel like the end of the world- but it's the beginning of your art.

Lyotard develops and extends Weber's argument regarding the disenchantment of art to suggest the Western culture increasingly obeys an instrumental logic of performance and control, one that imposes order on the free play of the imagination and subordinates creative thought to the demands of the capitalist market. And, for Lyotard, the effects of this process are consistent with those outlined in Weber's work, namely the progressive elimination of ritual or religious forms of art, the restriction of creative forms by an instrumental (capitalist) rationality, and with this the denigration of value-rational artistic practice.

... Lyotard suggests that while discourse operates as a system of representation which defines meanings according to their relation to other concepts in that system, figure is the realm of the singular, of that which refuses to, or simply cannot, be captured and systematized by the concept.

Magic is not just for the entertainment, but to inspire people to be creative enough with their lives.

Magic is the stunning art of surprising your audience, so that nothing else surprises them.

Magic is logic.

Make beauty from pain - there's a kind of joy in that; and maybe that's what art is for?

Make art and live simply.

Makebelieve is a writer's best friend.

Make your life a work of art and you will never die.

Making art is an act of love and making love to the world.

Malgré tout, elle se sent obligée d'assister à ce genre de vernissage. Elle doit se tenir au courant des dernières tendances et comprendre pourquoi ça marche. Par-dessus tout, il lui faut trouver un moyen d'insuffler une dose de l'engouement ambiant dans son propre travail. Mais comment faire ? Comment doit-elle s'y prendre pour que les gens s'extasient subitement devant ses photos à elle ? Peut-être faut-il choquer, tout simplement— et si c'était ça, le secret ?

Man, didn't anybody ever tell you that art is propaganda? It doesn't matter whether you think it should be or it shouldn't be, it just is, and motherfucker, like or not, you're sitting on a funky Magna Carta.

Man is summed up in Art. All the rest is moonshine.

Many are quick to dismiss those who pursue the arts, insisting a degree in one useless or a vow of poverty appropriate, yet wouldn’t want to live in a world without music, literature, television, or videogame.

Many works would be senseless, real junk, but for the fact that, being art, they are exhibited because they have a message of almost religious importance, interpreting man and his world - yes, perhaps even as junk.

Many of our stories began in the secrecy of our bedrooms, strumming an instrument or writing in the pages of our journal. For others, it was the meditative practice of exploring the world through a clear glass lens or painting with our fingers. These quiet moments gave us a glimpse of the divine, a gut feeling that God was sharing our space. Or maybe creativity felt like a wrestling match with God – more an argument than a conversation – or even a tense confrontation with ourselves. Either way, as we engaged with Him, we were changed.

Many men have triumphantly exploited a minuscule talent through life only to ruin themselves by muffing their deaths. Missing their proper exit cues they have hung around like dreary guests at a party, repeating themselves until it is made clear to all how little they ever had to say.

Many will point at you to say what they think you are. A few will say what they are. The art of the color of the sky is based on the few; the many, there are just too many of them; would you like to remain alone at the end of your life, following someone else's sense of certainty?

Man skal først prøve at løse ethvert problem ved hjælp af kunsten og derefter alle mulige andre måder. Kunst er den bedste læge. Din personlige læge og samfundets læge.

Man's panic does not produce God's power.....sometimes you need to pray before you post on social media.

Marina Abramovic had brought something new into the city. She had made of herself a rock in the center of a town where everything moved and had been moving en masse for hundreds of years.

[Martians] never let science crush the aesthetic and the beautiful. It’s all simply a matter of degree. An Earth Man thinks: "In that picture, color does not exist, really. A scientist can prove that color is only the way the cells are placed in a certain material to reflect light. Therefore, color is not really an actual part of things I happen to see." A Martian, far cleverer, would say: “This is a fine picture. It came from the hand and the mind of a man inspired. Its idea and its color are from life. This thing is good.

Masterpieces, not always distinguished or distinguishable among all the works with pretensions to genius, are scattered about the world like warning notices in a mine field.

Masochists hold on to broken people. Artists hold on to broken memories.

Mastering the art of seduction gives one a great power, and like any power, it's to be wielded with responsibility; a man who wields the art of seduction without a sense of responsibility and restraint is a walking proximity bomb of viral epidemics, needless procreation, heartbroken families, and shattered dreams.

Maybe a good goal would be to just at least always try to create something good. Like something that is connected to love in some way. Like the [musical] equivalent of…you can make a decision to be kind. You can make a decision to greet people kindly and make jokes with people and connect.

Material creation begins in a tiny corner of a large island called imagination.

Maybe I liked his sculpture more when I couldn’t get close to it, had to see it from a fixed position through a pane of glass, so that I had to project myself into the encounter with its three-dimensionality.

...maybe that's art. Seeing beauty others miss and capturing it.

Maybe law is closer related to art than most of us are aware of. But art and power do often stand in a strained relationship.

Maybe stories choose how they are told and who tells them.

Maybe you’ve made something mediocre—there’s plenty of that in any artist’s cabinets—but something mediocre is better than nothing, and often the near-misses, as I call them, are the beckoning hands that bring you to perfection just around the blind corner.

Maybe what you need in your life is not the next level of accomplishment or the next level of accumulation but the next level of appreciation for what you have; that will set the stage to make a space for what you will accumulate in the future. ( a bit deep) Simply put thank God for now before setting the goal for tomorrow because if you grow in gifts and didn't grow in gratitude, you have gained nothing.

Maybe this is what happened when two broken people came together. Her jagged edges called to his, like a magnet, trying to make a whole. The possibility both tantalized and terrified him.

Maybe we're all ongoing stories, defined at various stages of life, or whenever people oblige us to declare ourselves. Fiction is marvelous for studying this, allowing the writer and reader to leap decades in a sentence. No other art lets you bend time as much.