Quotes About Artist

O thoughtful waste of my days! What an artist I have destroyed!

Why is it every other person you meet says they're an artist? A real artist doesn't need to gas on about it, he doesn't have time. He does his work and sweats it out in silence, and no one can help him at all.

In Paris, you couldn't really turn around without seeing the result of lovers' bad decisions. An artist given to sexual excess was almost a cliché, but no one seemed to mind. As long as you were making something good or interesting or sensational, you could have as many lovers as you wanted and ruin them all.

Teaching is as sacred as priesthood. If one has not the concern for humanity, the love of living creatures, the vision of the priest and artist, he must not teach.

Somos del mismo gremio. -Los dos somos artistas, papi. Cuando bailaba era igual. Yo con mis bailes eróticos. Era la estrella del Palermo. Nadie sabía si era verdad o mentira. Ni yo misma sabía si lo que bailaba era erotismo real o fingía el erotismo. -Igual que yo con mis novelas. Ni yo mismo sé lo que es cierto y lo que es mentira. -Al final todo es verdad. -Uhmm. -Eres una puta, Pedro. Eres tan puta como yo. Vendes una mentira y finges que es verdad.

I want to be remembered as somebody that tried to respect her integrity as an artist and as a person. And I don't want to be in any box. I don't want to be one thing.

I'm looking to evolve the concept of the new renaissance artist, taking the world by storm through the art of public display and demonstration, with technical savvy, using cell phones and computers.

Okay. But, he didn't do anything to hurt people. OW: Well, he destroyed [Erich] von Stroheim, as a man and as an artist. Literally destroyed him. And von Stroheim at that moment was, I think, demonstrably the most gifted director in Hollywood. Von Stroheim was the greatest argument against the producer. He was so clearly a genius, and so clearly should have been left alone—no matter what crazy thing he did—

What makes community building so complex is that it occurs in an infinite number of small steps, sometimes in quiet moments that we notice out of the corner of our eye. It calls for us to treat as important many things that we thought we incidental. An afterthought becomes the point; a comment made in passing defines who we are more than all that came before. If the artist is one who captures the nuance of experience, then this is whom each of us must become.

Androgyny was a subject of some interest in Balzac's time. The Girodet painting of Endymion for which the castrato Zambinella served, in Balzac's fiction, as a far-off model offers a visual androgyny. And perhaps androgyny is a metaphor for the artist who creates life from his sole self and body.

Winter with its ink of showers and rain, with its pen of lightning and palm of clouds, wrote a letter of purple and blue across the beds of the garden. No artist in his cunning could measure his work beside it—and so, when earth longed for the sky it embroidered the spread of its furrows with stars.

More than that, he thought she had a certain bravery he rarely encountered and couldn't define: it was something to do with a willingness to look beyond the surface of things, into their heart, and he wondered if that was an essential part of being an artist. It was more than just curiosity, it seemed to him she was restless for truth somehow.