A Quote by Michel Foucault
People can tolerate two homosexuals they see leaving together, but the next day they're smiling, holding hands, tenderly embracing one another, then they cannot be forgiven. It is not the departure for pleasure that is unacceptable, it is waking up happy.
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I looked at other couples and wondered how they could be so calm about it. They held hands as if they weren't even holding hands. When Steve and I held hands, I had to keep looking down to marvel at it. There was my hand, the same hand I've always had - oh, but look! What is it holding? It's holding Steve's hand! Who is Steve? My three-dimensional boyfriend. Each day I wondered what would happen next. What happens when you stop wanting, when you are happy. I supposed I would go on being happy forever. I knew I would not mess things up by growing bored. I had done that once before.
Before the show, there's about two or two and a half hours of meet and greets with radio stations, promoters, people who I need to see and thank and talk to to make sure they remember me. And then, I get - out of all that day of talking and smiling and shaking hands and getting photos, I get to sing for two hours.
In the build-up to a race I begin practising two days beforehand with two other team members. We have an hour and a half practise run together. Then on the next day we have another practise in two separate hour long sessions. On the actual day of competition we do a warm-up run in the car before the race.
To see something marvelous with your own eyes-that's wonderful enough. But when two of you see it, two of you together, holding hands, holding each other close, knowing that you'll both have that memory for the rest of your lives, but that each of you will only ever hold only have an incomplete half of it, and that it won't ever really exist as a whole until you're together, talking or thinking about that moment ...that's worth more than one plus one. It's worth four, or eight, or some number so large we can't even imagine it.
I don't like waking up. I feel like staying in bed usually, but I can't because I've got two kids standing next to my bed, just eager to live another day.
It’s like when you’re excited about a girl and you see a couple holding hands, and you feel so happy for them. And other times you see the same couple, and they make you so mad. And all you want is to feel happy for them because you know that if you do, then it means you’re happy, too.
I hold my face in my two hands. No, I am not crying. I hold my face in my two hands to keep the loneliness warm - two hands protecting, two hands nourishing, two hands preventing my soul from leaving me in anger.
The one thing I cannot tolerate in life is seeing people being taken advantage of, I cannot tolerate it; I can't even see it in a movie. That can borderline on abuse and so what I would say is: really know when to put that guard up, and know how to really read people because that will help you along the way.
I find I'm waking up really early now, just to read. Waking up at ungodly hours. But I try to keep up, religiously. When I was a kid, it used to be a book a day. Then a book a week. Now it's like a book every two weeks. But I read every day.
When I start to paint, it is real agony. I get nervous. The day before, I am already working up to it. Then I get to the studio and, once the image starts to emerge and come together, pleasure kicks in. And then you can see things that no other person can see.
I go on the road all the time, but I'm only performing for two hours a night, and then I'll do a meet-and-greet, and then I'll get a bite to eat, get drunk, pass out, wake up the next day, sleeping the next day, sleeping off the hangover, and then I'm in the next city.
I spent some time in Cairo, and you see these Coptic Christians and Muslims holding hands. They got a rich history together of working together and cohabitating. You couldn't pay to see that in America.
I hear footsteps and Four's hands wrap around my wrists. I let him pry my hands from my eyes. He encloses one of my hands perfectly between two of his. The warmth of his skin overwhelms the ache in my fingers from holding the bars. "You all right?" he asks, pressing our hands together. "Yeah." He starts to laugh.
And I wanted to tell her that the pleasure for me wasn't planning or doing or leaving; the pleasure was in seeing our strings cross and separate and then come back together.
No human relation gives one possession in another—every two souls are absolutely different. In friendship or in love, the two side by side raise hands together to find what one cannot reach alone.
When I smile at the audience, I'm not smiling because I was told that you're supposed to smile to the audience. I smile because they're all smiling at me, and it's a great feeling to see all these happy people out there, and it makes me happy to see them happy.
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