Quotes About Experience

I fish better with a lit cigar; some people fish better with talent.

What Lovecraft did do, better than anyone, was radically decenter the human experience from the art of fiction.

If I was not having much fun, David was certainly not having an easy time either. Roger was studiously ignoring any of David's suggestions, which is why he probably wanted Michael on board to augment the musical input. In many ways Michael was probably as much a substitute for David as for Rick or Bob, given his melodic strengths and his experience in writing, and arranging. It may well have been paranoia, but it did look as though David was being frozen out.

The suggestion was put to us that we should become non-resident in the UK for one year so that we could earn some money and replenish the dwindling coffers, and provide some time for our accountants and tax specialists to salvage something from the wreckage. The whole experience cast an enormous cloud over us. We had always prided ourselves on being smart enough not to be caught out like this. We saw ourselves as educated, middle class, in control of everything. We had been utterly wrong.

The older you get, the more you live with ghosts.

Like a cookie crumbled but you eat it anyway, life is.

Znaš li šta me zbunjuje? Primje?ujem kako se proteklih sedmica promijenila slika koju sam sebi složio o tvome ocu. Pristupam mu s više obzira. To me zbunjuje jer mi pokazuje koliko su ograni?ena ?vrsta znanja i uvjerenja, koliko su nepovezana s iskustvima.

All creatures are travellers. The most important journeys are the interior ones. The most important and the most hazardous.

It is only through fiction and the dimension of the imaginary that we can learn something real about individual experience. Any other approach is bound to be general and abstract.

Older people were immigrants in their own country. They had not been born to the idea of rapid change, not like us.

The priests looked pinched and cold, though Hild didn't feel the chill.

Tomorrow I'd start learning this city the way I liked best, by moving through it.

You'd have to be dead to be impervious to that rhythm.

I could feel the open air, taste salt on the breeze.

Hild, on the first boat with Eorpald and Edwin, smelt it before she saw it: the old, cold scent of deep, turned dirt; the smell of bones.

The world can be big, and stink, and it hurts if you fall off, but hey, it's worth trying, mostly, and what doesn't kill you…Well, it doesn't kill you.

To learning experiences, even though they suck.

To not being nine years old and at the mercy of the world.

More and more now she could tell the difference between what was real and what was a mix of memory and nightmare; more and more she felt sure that if she spoke she would be speaking to the living, not ghosts.

Everything tasted round and ripe. The air was as rich and sweet as cider. Just breathing fed some part of her.

For a moment Peretur could not speak, only sit with sensation flickering up and down her belly and back, like a school of fish swimming in and out of the light.

I'm not pretty." "You don't need to be pretty. You're like lightning. Like a tide. Like a blizzard." "Something to run from." "Something to get caught up in. Somthing to remember for the rest of your life.

Sometimes I used my fingers, digging down into the rich dirt, feeling it push under my nails. No doubt I'd regret it later, but it was good to feel so much life under my hands.

I wandered, paying no particular attention, just absorbing the city through the soles of my shoes and the taste on my tongue.