A Quote by Arthur Rackham

Like the sundial, my paint box counts no hours but sunny ones. — © Arthur Rackham
Like the sundial, my paint box counts no hours but sunny ones.
There comes a point when the paint doesn't feel like paint. I don't know why. Some mysterious thing happens. I think you have all experienced it... What counts is that the paint should really disappear, otherwise it's craft.
I'm not a walking extra in a Chekhov play; I'm no Slavic gloom or Irish gloom. I mark only the happy hours, like the sundial, because otherwise I would have gone nuts.
I love paint. I like watercolours. I like acrylic paint... a little bit. I like house paint. I like oil-based paint, and I love oil paint. I love the smell of turpentine and I like that world of oil paint very, very, very much.
It is not the hours of practice that matter...it's what you put into the hours that counts.
I like watercolours. I like acrylic paint... a little bit. I like house paint. I like oil-based paint, and I love oil paint. I love the smell of turpentine and I like that world of oil paint very, very, very much.
I watched a ton of TV because I was raised by a single mom and spent a lot of time with my grandmother. Like most grandparents do, she would spend hours and hours in front of the TV box.
They are born, put in a box; they go home to live in a box; they study by ticking boxes; they go to what is called "work" in a box, where they sit in their cubicle box; they drive to the grocery store in a box to buy food in a box; they talk about thinking "outside the box"; and when they die they are put in a box.
I think from an East Coast point of view, you'd be like, 'Oh, a California record's a sunny record.' It's like you spend three hours in the studio because the rest of the time you must be at the beach.
Once, Turner had himself lashed to the mast of a ship for several hours, during a furious storm, so that he could later paint the storm. Obviously, it was not the storm itself that Turner intended to paint. What he intended to paint was a representation of the storm. One's language is frequently imprecise in that manner, I have discovered.
. . . I was rich, if not in money, in sunny hours and summer days. . . .
'Tim Timtya' was different from what I usually do. I had to develop a texture to go with the song. In fact, many told me I sounded like Shreya Goshal, which came as a pleasant surprise. Transitioning from tracks like 'Sunny Sunny' to this one was quite different.
I'm like the weather, never really can predict when this rain cloud's gonna burst; when it's the high or it's the low, when you might need a light jacket. Sometimes I'm the slush that sticks to the bottom of your work pants, but I can easily be the melting snowflakes clinging to your long lashes. I know that some people like: sunny and seventy-five, sunny and seventy-five, sunny and seventy-five, but you take me as I am and never forget to pack an umbrella.
I like more the fact that I like to think out of the box. Thinking out of the box goes along with dressing out of the box and living out of the box.
Horus non numero nisi serenas (I count only the sunny hours).
He has to find more and better ways of occupying his time. His time, what a bankrupt idea, as if he's been given a box of time belonging to him alone, stuffed to the brim with hours and minutes that he can spend like money. Trouble is, the box has holes in it and the time is running out, no matter what he does with it.
It's a little scary when you - I got - I just got a box to my house for my birthday from this girl who writes - I mean it's a box of like - just like body lotions and stuff like this. And like this little box of dog toys in there. There's - you name it, candles, it's like this little box that she put together for my birthday. But she wrote in it and it came to my house.
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