Judgment is more than skill. It sets forth on intellectual seas beyond the shores of hard indisputable factual information.
You can squint and see something else, or something will come forward in the paint. You'll always see something else.
I love street, adore street. Life is about mixing things and to be divine in the streets. Voila!
Style doesn't have seasons.
I hate grunge. It was the worst period of my life.
I cannot imagine what an influence a five-week trip to the Orient had on me. I mean, the culture, the absorption of the Japanese way of life, the Japanese way of thinking, the discipline. The entire thing was an extraordinary experience. So these were more than memorable things to me.
One day, Sally Kirkland said to Diana Vreeland, who was the fashion editor of Harper's Bazaar at the time, "I have a young woman I want you to meet. She's very young, but I think you should meet her. " When Sally Kirkland told me this, I said, "I can't possibly do that! I'm going to throw up! That's the scariest thing I've ever heard! I can't do that, Sally. I'm not ready to do that!" But Sally said, "You let them make that decision. " I was absolutely terrified.
Four of my children are daughters, and Ive watched them devote themselves to reading books about how little girls learn to become women - how they learn to deal with boys and men, and the different hurdles females have to go over.
I certainly can't complain. I work six days a week, if not seven, and eighteen hours out of twenty-four - fortunately, with a great deal of pleasure. Why? Because I only do something if I want to do it; I need to feel a desire, to find pleasure in moving forward, creating, moving, inventing.
I'm still learning, but I can see there are decisions in life that are going to be very challenging and it's always better to get through them, always.
He blinked a few times, each motion so slow that he was never quite sure if he’d get his eyes open again. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Funny how he was only just realizing it. Funnier still that he couldn’t seem to summon any concern for her maidenly sensibilities. She might be blushing. He couldn’t tell. It was too dark to see. But it didn’t matter. This was Honoria. She was a good egg. A sensible egg. She wouldn’t be scarred forever by the sight of his chest.