Quotes About Perspective

really great painting is fluid enough to work its way into the mind and heart through all kinds of different angles, in ways that are unique and very particular.

the world is much stranger than we know or can say. And I know how you think, or how you like to think, but maybe this is one instance where you can't boil down to pure 'good' or pure 'bad' like you always want to do—? Like, your two different piles? Bad over here, good over here? Maybe not quite so simple.

Years ago, in an old notebook, I wrote: One of Julian's most attractive qualities is his inability to see anyone, or anything, in its true light. And under it, in a different ink, maybe one of my most attractive qualities, as well(?) -Richard

I often thought how peculiar my life must look to someone reading those letters, far away.

is death really so terrible a thing?

Perché se è vero che il male può discendere dalle buone azioni… dove sta scritto che da quelle cattive può venire solo il male? Magari a volte – il modo sbagliato è quello giusto? Magari prendi la strada sbagliata e ti porta comunque dove volevi? O vedila in un altro modo, certe volte puoi sbagliare tutto, e alla fine viene fuori che andava bene?

Maybe sometimes—the wrong way is the right way? You can take the wrong path and it still comes out where you want to be? Or, spin it another way, sometimes you can do everything wrong and it still turns out to be right?

What if—is more complicated than that? What if maybe opposite is true as well? Because, if bad can sometimes come from good actions—? where does it ever say, anywhere, that only bad can come from bad actions? Maybe sometimes—the wrong way is the right way? You can take the wrong path and it still comes out where you want to be? Or, spin it another way, sometimes you can do everything wrong and it still turns out to be right?

Penso che in questo caso dovremmo chiamarla ironia della sorte, più che divina provvidenza. Sì, ma perché vuoi darle un nome? E se fossero la stessa cosa?

I have to say I personally have never drawn such a sharp line between 'good' and 'bad' as you. For me: that line is often false. The two are never disconnected. One can't exist without the other. As long as I am acting out of love, I feel I am doing best I know how.

People loved to think they were getting a deal. Four times out of five they would look right past what they didn't want to see.

Priceless. I rolled to face the wall. The recovered Rembrandt had been valued at forty million. But forty million was still a price.

I personally have never drawn such a sharp line between 'good' and 'bad' as you. For me: that line is often false. The two are never disconnected. One can't exist without the other. As long as I am acting out of love, I feel I am doing best I know how.

how even my sadness can make me happy

Why am I made the way I am? Why do I care about all the wrong things, and nothing at all for the right ones? Or, to tip it another way: how can I see so clearly that everything I love or care about is illusion, and yet—for me, anyway—all that's worth living for lies in that charm?

never the way it seems—all good, all bad.

And besides, is death really so terrible a thing? It seems terrible to you, because you are young, but who is to say he is not better off now than you are? Or—if death is a journey to another place—that you will not see him again?

And the strange thing was: I knew that most people didn't see her as I did — if anything, found her a bit odd-looking with her off-kilter walk and her spooky redhead pallor. For whatever dumb reason I had always flattered myself that I was the only person in the world who really appreciated her— that she would be shocked and touched and maybe even come to view herself in a whole new light if she knew just how beautiful I found her.

Because I don't care how often or willingly they say it: no one will ever, ever be able to persuade me that life is some awesome, rewarding treat. Because here's the truth: life is catastrophe

understand the world at all, sometimes you could only focus on a tiny bit of it, look very hard at what was close to hand and make it stand in for the whole;

Does it make any sense at all to know that it ends badly for all of us, even the happiest of us, and that we all lose everything that matters in the end--and yet to know as well, despite all this, as cruelly as the game is stacked, that it's possible to play it with a kind of joy?

It was one thing to see a painting in a museum but to see it in all those lights and moods amd seasons was to see it a thousamd different ways

It's a long story. I'll make it short as I can.

What is the difference between an obstacle and an opportunity? Our attitude toward it. Every opportunity has a difficulty, and every difficulty has an opportunity.