Quotes About Experience

So much of what I create has been due to the influence of Miles Davis and Donald Byrd, and so many of those that have passed on. Their music, their legacy lives on with the rest of us because we are so highly influenced by their experience and what they have given us.

My mother, a very eclectic listener, had the first Doors album and gave it to me when I expressed interest in the band. It was one of the first records I ever had. As the years passed, the babysitters who used to look after me would bring their Doors albums to the apartment, and that's how I got to hear their later work.

The first time I passed as a woman in public was on leave in the U.S. from my deployment to Iraq in February 2010.

The lifestyle that I grew up in, it was passed on to me. I didn't know there was another world.

I don't remember the last time I drove. I'd rather be a passenger unless I'm somewhere beautiful.

Sometimes it doesn't feel like I'm in control but that I'm going along for the ride. And I'm a lousy passenger; I love to drive.

I've always wanted to try things for myself before passing a judgment on them.

I've learned things in Italy at the age of 31. Some of the passing drills are so complicated you need a high level of concentration and if you mess up the rhythm, believe me you are told!

With every passing year, I feel more fulfilled.

You can be aware of the passing of time without being nostalgic.

The best player I ever played with is probably Cesc Fabregas. I only got to play with him for a year before he went back to Barcelona, but I learned so much from him - the way he knew what he was going to do with the ball before he got it and his passing - and he scored goals.

Being through the England set-up since I was a young lad, passing was the style of football I grew up with.

I've been in the business over 35 years and had over 6,000 matches and I am helping guys who have only been in the business maybe a year or two and 100 matches. I am taking my 6,000 matches and passing it along.

It [the self] is rather a process, continuously created and recreated in each social situation that one enters, held together by the slender thread of memory.

Joy is play's intention. When this intention is actually realized, in joyful play, the time structure of the playful universe takes on a very specific quality—namely, it becomes eternity. This is probably true of all experiences of intense joy, even when they are not enveloped in the separate reality of play. This is the final insight of Nietzsche's Zarathustra in the midnight song: "All joy wills eternity—wills deep, deep eternity!"33

Common sense is in medicine the master workman.

The secret of his success is that he never went to business school. Imagina all the lessons he never had to unlearn.

Invest in What You Know.

Company. Copyright 1951 by Robert Frost. Reprinted by arrangement with Henry Holt and Company, LLC. Peter Marren has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this

The only difficulty with this, is that nothing can be completely forgotten. Every single thing that happens to us makes its mark on our minds and, even if we consciously cannot recall it, it will still influence us to some—possibly minor or possibly major—extent.

When we are mired in the relative world, never lifting our gaze to the mystery, our life is stunted, incomplete; we are filled with yearning for that paradise that is lost when, as young children, we replace it with words and ideas and abstractions - such as merit, such as past, present, and future - our direct, spontaneous experience of the thing itself, in the beauty and precision of this present moment.

My eye is fixed not on the ending of the book but on the feeling of that ending.

Amazingly, we take for granted that instinct for survival, fear of death, must separate us from the happiness of pure and uninterpreted experience, in which body, mind, and nature are the same. This retreat from wonder, the backing away like lobsters into safe crannies, the desperate instinct that our life passes unlived, is reflected in proliferation without joy, corrosive money rot, the gross befouling of the earth and air and water from which we came.

We had a crisp, oily salad and slices of pink country sausages, an aioli of snails and cod and hard-boiled eggs with garlic mayonnaise, creamy cheese from Fontvielle, and a homemade tart. It was the kind of meal that the French take for granted and tourists remember for years.