I took it all for granted, I'm sorry to say.
I'd love to sign a contract for the soundtracks to every Wes Anderson movie, you know what I'm saying? Things like that, I have no spots on my conscience about.
I wonder a lot about making things meaningful. You want to do meaningful work and make art, but you're making records, which is good, but you don't want to weight them - it's a very curious thing.
What I remove from my writing is linear context. It's not really important to me, because it doesn't give me chills to see, "you flip the latch and the lock opens and then you can open the top of the chest and inside the chest is this. " That doesn't give me chills, to think in that vein. So I've always kind of avoided it.
I am not concerned about the 80 BMP consistency law of popular music. I'm concerned with other things, and they're very valid.
I'm at best on stage. It's one of the only places where I actually can feel like a million bucks.
Being on stage, it's like, "Ooo-kay, now I remember why all this is going wrong or right!" It's very much my element.
Travel is the best investment you can make in yourself.
"Boys," Annabeth interrupted, "I'm sure you both would've been wonderful at killing each other. But right now you need some rest. "
In presenting a mathematical argument the great thing is to give the educated reader the chance to catch on at once to the momentary point and take details for granted: two trivialities omitted can add up to an impasse). The unpractised writer, even after the dawn of a conscience, gives him no such chance; before he can spot the point he has to tease his way through a maze of symbols of which not the tiniest suffix can be skipped.
Can any man say with certainty that he was happy at a particular moment of time which he remembers as being delightful? Remembering it certainly makes him happy, because he realizes how happy he could have been, but at the actual moment when the alleged happiness was occurring, did he really feel happy? He was like a man owning a piece of ground in which, unknown to himself, a treasure lay buried.