Time is the guy at the amusement park who paints shirts with an airbrush. He sprays out the color in a fine mist until it's just lonely particles floating in the air, waiting to be plastered in place. And what comes of it all, the design on the shirt at the end of the day, usually isn't much to see. I suspect that whoever he is, wakes up in the morning and wonders what he ever saw in it.
Not one person from the music world has ever come with - as if I could get a rock'n'roller up at four in the morning to play golf - but that's fine. I have way too much going on to sit around waiting for tee time at two in the afternoon.
No one ever gets talker's block. No one wakes up in the morning, discovers he has nothing to say, and sits quietly, for days or weeks, until the muse hits, until the moment is right, until all the craziness in his life has died down.
This week Disney opened its first ever theme park in China. More than ten thousand children showed up on opening day. And that was just to make the T-shirts.
There you'll find the place I love most in the world. The place where I grew thin from dreaming. My village, rising from the plain. Shaded with trees and leaves like a piggy bank filled with memories. You'll see why a person would want to live there forever. Dawn, morning, mid-day, night: all the same, except for the changes in the air. The air changes the color of things there. And life whirs by as quiet as a murmur...the pure murmuring of life.
Find out what your hero or heroine wants, and when he or she wakes up in the morning, just follow him or her all day.
A tipping point is invisible, as we just saw in Greece. In most situations, everything appears fine until it's not fine, until, for example, no one shows up at a Treasury auction.
My first job was at an amusement park in Virginia. It was the worst. I loved the park but once I'd worked there all the magic was gone from it. It just turned into a place I hated and I've never been there since.
Design and color are not distinct and separate. As one paints, one draws. The more the colors harmonize, the more the design takes form. When color is at it's richest, form is at its fullest.
There is nothing that special to see when looking at me. I'm a painter who paints day in day out, from morning till evening - figure pictures and landscapes, more rarely portraits.
After thirty, a man wakes up sad every morning, excepting perhaps five or six, until the day of his death.
Nobody wakes up in the morning thinking, 'I'm a bad guy.' They think they're the right guy.
I love when I get compliments on my shirts all the time. I'm a t-shirt guy, and I think nine times out of 10, they have some kind of super hero character on them.
Are you the person who just wakes up, puts your T-shirt on and runs out of the house? Or do you wake up an hour early - get your mental notes together, fix you a little coffee... prepare yourself for the day and try to do something really great? It begins with you.
Bakery air is that steaming hot front of thick, buttery fumes waiting for you just inside the door of a bakery. And I am just going to tell you straight up: That is some fine air!
When I was thirteen or fourteen I bought a paintbox with oil paints from money slowly saved up. The feeling I had at the time - or better - the experience of color coming slowly out of the tube - is with me to this day.
Should I pull on a shirt?" he asked with hint of amusement. I WILL NOT BLUSH. "No." He'd be doing the world a favor if he never wore a shirt again, but I wasn't going to tell him that part. "You're fine.