With the second record (2012's Anxiety), I was quite jaded, and exhausted, and tired. With this third record, I feel that I've come full circle. I had gotten to the absolute pinnacle of how bad someone could feel.
It took my breath away, that evening. If you've ever dreamed that you walked into your best-loved book or film or TV program, then maybe you've got some idea how it felt: things coming alive around you, strange and new and utterly familiar at the same time; the catch in your heartbeat as you move through the rooms that had such a vivid untouchable life in your mind, as your feet actually touch the carpet, as you breathe the air; the odd, secret glow of warmth as these people you've been watching for so long, from so far away, open their circle and sweep you into it.
I think of art as coming from daily life, daily experience. I think it's very important not to have it become work for some kind of elite circle.
Really, universally, relations stop nowhere, and the exquisite problem of the artist is eternally but to draw, by a geometry of his own, the circle within which they shall happily appear to do so.
Genius, all over the world, stands hand in hand, and one shock of recognition runs the whole circle round.
We're always looking for the backbone, the central idea, and once you have that you know everything can circle around it.
God is a circle whose center is everywhere and circumference nowhere.
Writing about an idea frees me of it. Thinking about it is a circle of repetitions.
Maybe your life resembles a Bethlehem stable. Crude in some spots, smelly in others. Not much glamour. Not always neat. People in your circle remind you of stable animals: grazing like sheep, stubborn like donkeys, and that cow in the corner looks a lot like the fellow next door. You, like Joseph, knocked on the innkeeper's door. But you were too late. Or too old, sick, dull, damaged, poor, or peculiar. You know the sound of a slamming door.
A widening circle of researchers believes that the loss of natural habitat, or the disconnection from nature even when it is available, has enormous implications for human health and child development. They say the quality of exposure to nature affects our health at an almost cellular level.
My external sensations are no less private to my self than are my thoughts or my feelings. In either case my experience falls within my own circle, a circle closed on the outside; and, with all its elements alike, every sphere is opaque to the others which surround it [] In brief, regarded as an existence which appears in a soul, the whole world for each is peculiar and private to that soul.
The more various our artificial necessities, the wider is our circle of pleasure; for all pleasure consists in obviating necessities as they rise; luxury, therefore, as it increases our wants, increases our capacity for happiness
I leave my circle tight in keep my family close.
My writing circle isn't too full of people who fall into the "Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought Tuesdays With Morrie" category.
There had to be a circle of Hell where you were eternally fourteen, eternally in junior high. One of the lower circles.
To understand the whole it is necessary to understand the parts. To understand the parts, it is necessary to understand the whole. Such is the circle of understanding.
We live on the circumference of a hollow circle. We draw the circumference, like spiders, out of ourselves: it is all criticism of criticism.
Without involvement, there is no commitment. Mark it down, asterisk it, circle it, underline it. No involvement, no commitment.
Singing live is my favorite. When people sing along to your songs, the circle is complete.
Never, never rest contented with any circle of ideas, but always be certain that a wider one is still possible.