A Quote by Matthew Sharpe

Still the most intense pleasure's but a splinter of ice on the gallons of lava that gush from my cracked heart. — © Matthew Sharpe
Still the most intense pleasure's but a splinter of ice on the gallons of lava that gush from my cracked heart.
To be able to take my pictures, I have to look, all the time, at the people and places I care about. And I must do so with both ardor and cool appraisal, with the passions of eye and heart, but in that ardent heart there must also be a splinter of ice.
Mainly, of course, if you're not an ice climber, where you really need ice, for most people ice is a damn nuisance. And we just can't wait for it to all melt.And it's always a remarkable fact that it takes so long to melt because the temperature of the air can be well above the freezing point, and the ice is still solid there. So for most people, that's the experience.
As an experience, madness is terrific ... and in its lava I still find most of the things I write about.
That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.
It is the burning lava of the soul that has a furnace within--a very volcano of grief and sorrow-it is that burning lava of prayer that finds its way to God. No prayer ever reaches God's heart which does not come from our hearts.
O madam, my old heart is cracked, it's cracked!
If you took a cracked pot and you cracked that cracked pot, you'd be approaching the level of cracked pottery we are talking about here.
Life cracked like ice!
Ah, never shall the land forget How gush'd the life-blood of the brave, Gush'd warm with hope and courage yet, Upon the soil they fought to save!
Just as Americans have discovered the hidden energy costs in a multitude of products-in refrigerating a steak, for example, on its way to the butcher-they are about to discover the hidden water costs. Beginning with the water that irrigated the corn that was fed to the steer, the steak may have accounted for 3,500 gallons. The water that goes into a 1,000-pound steer would float a destroyer. It takes 14,935 gallons of water to grow a bushel of wheat, 60,000 gallons to produce a ton of steel, 120 gallons to put a single egg on the breakfast table.
I always say, 'I'm cracked. My characters are cracked. And you, reader, you're cracked, too.'
Madness is terrific I can assure you, and not to be sniffed at; and in its lava I still find most of the things I write about. It shoots out of one everything shaped, final, not in mere driblets, as sanity does.
Fortunately I own a vintage brain, and I am alive and well in the 21st century, still making records, still working at an intense pace and most of all, still having fun doing it.
Being in a marriage and having children is the greatest pleasure, but it is certainly not the easiest pleasure. It is not like eating ice cream.
Graham Greene famously said that all writers need a chip of ice in their heart; Cusk can come across as the most beautiful ice palace of stalactites and stalagmites, and some people find her company, albeit by proxy, about as inviting as a long weekend in a walk-in frigidaire.
A spring of love gush'd from my heart, And I bless'd them unaware.
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