The reader is the content of any poem or of the language he employs, and in order to use any of these forms, he must put them on.
The world didn't stop because we weren't in it anymore.
This time I read the title of the painting: Girl Interrupted at Her Music. Interrupted at her music: as my life had been, interrupted in the music of being seventeen, as her life had been, snatched and fixed on canvas: one moment made to stand still and to stand for all the other moments, whatever they would be or might have been. What life can recover from that?
Are you crazy? It's a common phrase, I know. But it means something particular to me: the tunnels, the security screens, the plastic forks, the shimmering, ever-shifting borderline that like all boundaries beckons and asks to be crossed. I do not want to cross it again.
Tell me that you don’t take that blade and drag it across your skin and pray for the courage to press down.
Something about the goat dancing made me want to cry.
Freedom was the price of privacy.
The Russian composers, especially, tricked the symphony orchestra into the kind of dynamic, rhythmic thing
I knew there was a certain level that I could get to within the sporting world. But as I continued with my career, not only did I grow, but the sport grew. All of a sudden, all of these doors opened to me. It's been amazing. I guess I was born at the right time.
Questions are a burden to others; answers are a prison for oneself.
With such a perishable, expensive and important product buying truffles can be a leap of faith for a chef. Working with Céline over the past two years has taken away any of that stress. The level of quality and consistency with her truffles is unsurpassed. Most importantly the quality and loyalty of her service makes me feel that she is looking out for me and my guests interests in giving me an honest assessment of the markets fluctuations.