A Quote by Giorgio Vasari
Paolo Uccello's wife told people that Paolo used to stay up all night in his study trying to work out the vanishing points of his perspective. When she called him to come to bed, he would say "Oh what a lovely thing this perspective is!"
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Shakespeare set a lot of his dramas in a historical perspective or war perspective, or he would study what was going on at that time.
She was in a terrible marriage and she couldn't talk to anyone. He used to hit her, and in the beginning she told him that if it ever happened again, she would leave him. He swore that it wouldn't and she believed him. But it only got worse after that, like when his dinner was cold, or when she mentioned that she'd visited with one of the neighbors who was walking by with his dog. She just chatted with him, but that night, her husband threw her into a mirror.
She was sitting cross-legged on her bed in her white kimono, writing in a notebook with an ink pen she dipped in a bottle. 'Never let a man stay the night,' she told me. 'Dawn has a way of casting a pall on any night magic.' The night magic sounded lovely. Someday I would have lovers and write a poem after.
I'm a huge fan of Paolo Nutini, I'm so in love with his songs and his voice.
She just laughed in his face and told him she'd sooner crawl in a bed with his father's leeches before she'd crawl in one with him. She stopped laughing when he put his knife in her.
The first artist whose music I really got into was Paolo Nutini. When his album 'Sunny Side Up' came out, I think I listened to it on repeat for, like, six months.
McCain was introduced at the convention last night by his wife -- I won't say 'trophy wife' -- but she did $300,000 worth of clothes and jewelry on, no matter to the party of the little guy. But Cindy McCain talked about how his character, honor and integrity made him the exact kind of married man she was looking to pick up at a bar.
I saw him [Khizr Khan]. He was, you know, very emotional. And probably looked like - a nice guy to me. His wife, if you look at his wife, she was standing there. She had nothing to say. She probably - maybe she wasn't allowed to have anything to say.
What is missing in a lot of urban music is perspective. You hear a lot of regurgitated perspective. It's a lot of: out at the club. Had drinks. Patrón. Big booties. It's this regurgitated idea of living in this, I don't know, one-night-stand moment that always starts at the club and Patrón. And so perspective, perspective, perspective is what I'm an advocate of.
Did you dream of me?" he asked. "Yes," she admitted grudgingly. She had. She'd dreamed of his hands caressing her, of his mouth devouring her. His lush lips inched into a surprised but pleased smile. "You were naked," she told him. His grin spread; his eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "And tied up..." He arched his eye brows in smug expectation. "I did not know the idea of bondage would please you." "Oh, I love the idea of typing you up." She paused dramatically. "Just like in my dream, you'll be secured to an ant-hill and the little things will eat you alive.
Was his life nothing? Had he nothing to show, no work? He did not count his work, anyone could have done it. What had he known, but the long, marital embrace with his wife. Curious, that this was what his life amounted to! At any rate, it was something, it was eternal. He would say so to anybody, and be proud of it. He lay with his wife in his arms, and she was still his fulfillment, just the same as ever. And that was the be-all and the end-all. Yes, and he was proud of it.
My grandfather would have loved to have met you," he told her huskily. "He would have called you 'She Moves Trees Out of His Path.' " She looked lost, but his da laughed. He'd known the old man, too. "He called me 'He Who Must Run into Trees,'" Charles explained, and in a spirit of honesty, a need for his mate to know who he was, he continued, "or sometimes 'Running Eagle.' " " 'Running Eagle'?" Anna puzzled it over, frowning at him. "What's wrong with that?" "Too stupid to fly," murmured his father with a little smile.
That is a cosmic perspective, that's correct. And in tandem with that, you will never find people who truly grasp the cosmic perspective such as the entire community of astrophysicists leading nations into battle. No, that doesn't happen. When you have a cosmic perspective, there's this little speck called Earth and you say you're going to do what? You're on this side of a line in the sand and you want to kill people for what?
In the light of his vision that is the perspective that allows him to be grateful that things are not worse he has found his freedom and joy: his thoughts are peace, his words are peace and his work is peace.
I would argue, for perspective's sake, that the arc of a really literary work is precisely that it both intensely reflects, and simultaneously transcends the conditions of its making. I would say that is the difference between literature and other kinds of writing. That is what the literary is - it ultimately doesn't matter what his circumstances were. And the thing that you were just saying about being sympathetic to Brontë and the fact that she could only write what she wrote when she wrote it... that's true. But look at that novel, which means so much to so many people.
At what age did Warren Buffett come into philanthropy? At 76. He gave a very good reason. He said his wife was considerably younger than him. And all Americans believe they would live till 80, and they do live till 80. He told his wife that when he is gone, she should take care of whatever they need to do.
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