I’d laugh if someone snorted her blatantly forgetfulneglectful pile of herself right out of her (Nicholas) cage. I will show you fear in a handful of evidently tainted brown crank m’dear.
ROAR+++
(is an actor)
MGM
My kitty-cat’s tail is fluffy.
I’m attracted to people with scabs.
The artist is the creator of beautiful things.
To reveal art and conceal the artist is art’s aim.
The critic is he who can translate into another manner or a new material his impression of beautiful things.
The highest as the lowest form of criticism is a mode of autobiography.
Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming. This is a fault.
Those who find beautiful meanings in beautiful things are the cultivated. For these there is hope.
They are the elect to whom beautiful things mean only beauty.
There is no such thing as a moral or an immoral book. Books are well written, or badly written. That is all.
The nineteenth-century dislike of realism is the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass.
The nineteenth-century dislike of romanticism is the rage of Caliban not seeing his own face in a glass.
The moral life of man forms part of the subject matter of the artist, but the morality of art consists in the perfect use of an imperfect medium.
No artist desires to prove anything. Even things that are true can be be proved.
No artist has ethical sympathies. An ethical sympathy in an artist is an unpardonable mannerism of style.
No artist is ever morbid. The artist can express everything.
Thought and language are to the artist instruments of an art.
Vice and virtue are to the artist materials for an art.
From the point of view of form, the type of all the arts is the art of the musician. From the point of view of feeling, the actor’s craft is the type.
All art is at once surface and symbol.
Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril.
Those who read the symbol do so at their peril.
It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.
Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex, and vital.
When critics disagree the artist is in accord with himself.
We can forgive a man for making a useful thing as long as he does not admire it. The only excuse for making a useless thing is that one admires it intensely.
All art is quite useless.
What if our whole universe was really just like and atom in a molecule of some giant being’s fingernail?
Whoah, dude.
What if C-A-T was pronounced “dog?”
The implications are too disturbing for a human brain to comprehend.
talk about Bohring! No actually I thought it was
veeehery ieenteresting. a labor-atory of love. they got physic-al, physic-al with Newton (not John, though)
And BTW
NO!!! HIS FINGERNAIL MIGHT HAVE
among us
(I should have called this the random reference thread.)
Random Reference thread?
Bleh. I feel like debating. Let’s argue abortion.
Nancy Reagan is the celebrity contestant on Password.
It’s her turn to guess the word.
Voice Over: And the password is. . . black dick!
Nancy: Um. . . is it a place?
Her parter: No.
Nancy: Is it a person?
Her partner: No.
Nancy: Hmm, then it must be a thing. Um, is it something I might want to eat?
Her partner, exasperated: Well, I dunno, maybe.
Nancy: Oh, is it black dick?
ah hah! ah hahhahaa! oh lord.
oh, and dead baby dead baby dead baby.
ooh, baby i love your way. every day.
Chicken, whatever you’re on, it’s only fair to share.
Now pass it!
Black Tar Heroin.
Actually, no, pas vraiment. That is the name of a documentary that I watched last night on HBO. It showed the lives of five people who were addicted to heroin. Now, until recently, the only thing I’ve done is the occasional Hello There Mr. Green, but I have renounced even that. Watching that show last night affirmed my decision. God forbid I should fail to concentrate on life’s important questions like, “Just why the hell did Criseyde cast off Troilus? Read 100 pages of middle English and tune in next week!” I’m not complaining.
Except that you will have to pry the Guinness from my cold, dead fingers.
BUT DOn’T TRY It. by my fay, mY ZOMBie Ass Will GO GET MEDIEVAL ON THINE swyvving self