A Quote by Robert Schumann

Can that which has cost the artist days, weeks, months and even years of reflection be understood in a flash by a dilettante? — © Robert Schumann
Can that which has cost the artist days, weeks, months and even years of reflection be understood in a flash by a dilettante?
Dear Sweetheart, Without you my days are endless. Days seem like weeks... Weeks feel like months... Months like years... Years like centuries... Centuries like... You get the idea.
If you don't have a plan, days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months, months turn into years, and before you know it you're looking back saying, I should've had a plan.
I am interested in study, reflection, philosophy - but always as a dilettante. I also consider myself a dilettante as a painter.
When the news is slow, or when there's just so many other responsibilities bearing down on me that I don't have the time to do it right, that's when it gets frustrating. As an artist, you just don't wanna put bad work out. So when you have to do it seven days a week, you're just gonna have some bad days and bad weeks and bad months and bad years.
What distinguishes the artist from the dilettante? Only the pain the artist feels. The dilettante looks only for pleasure in art.
As days lengthen into weeks and months and even years of adversity, the hurt grows deeper. The Church cannot hope to save a man on Sunday if during the week it is a complacent witness to the crucifixion of his soul.
I think what happens when you are prime minister is no day is the same and every day you are under pressure. And there is always so much happening that the days just flash by and flash into weeks.
It's like this: The time between having an idea and its public launch is measured in days not months, weeks not years.
The perfect dressing is essential to the perfect salad, and I see no reason whatsoever for using a bottled dressing, which may have been sitting on the grocery shelf for weeks, even months - even years.
The habits of a lifetime when everything else had to come before writing are not easily broken, even when circumstances now often make it possible for writing to be first; habits of years - responses to others, distractibility, responsibility for daily matters - stay with you, mark you, become you. The cost of discontinuity (that pattern still imposed on women) is such a weight of things unsaid, an accumulation of material so great, that everything starts up something else in me; what should take weeks take me sometimes months to write; what should take months, takes years.
Days, weeks, months, years," said the boy. "Minutes and hours and seconds. I don't know about any of those things.
It sometimes takes days, even weeks, before a dog's nerves tire. In the case of terriers it can run into months.
Life is not made up of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years, but of moments. You must experience each one before you can appreciate it.
Though varying wishes, hopes, and fears, Fever'd the progress of these years, Yet now, days, weeks, and months but seem The recollection of a dream.
When you want to be a fighter, you have to give it everything you got. MMA just became who I am because of the amount of work I was putting into my training. It all starts in the gym. The hours turn into days, days into weeks, and weeks into months; it's like school - the more time you spend learning, the better you'll be prepared for a test.
Oh! how the hours hasten to change into days, the days into months, the months into years, and those into life's annihilation!
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