A Quote by Michelangelo Antonioni

I read somewhere that happiness is like the bluebird of Maeterlinck: Try to catch it and it loses its color. It's like trying to hold water in your hands. The more you squeeze it, the more the water runs away.
The harder we try to catch hold of the moment, to seize a pleasant sensation..., the more elusive it becomes... It is like trying to clutch water in one's hands - the harder one grips, the faster it slips through one's fingers.
It was like letting go and falling back into water and seeing yourself grinning up through the water, your face like a mask, and seeing the bubbles coming up as if you were trying to speak from under the water. And how do you know what it's like to try to speak from under water when you're drowned?
I don't know about you, but when they first introduced bottled water, I thought it was so funny, I was like "Bottled water! Haha, they're selling bottled water! ... I guess I'll try it. Ah, this is good, this is more watery than water. Yeah, this has got a water kick to it."
Study water. Try to grab a hold of water, and it will always elude you. You just have to let yourself be in it. It's soft, and it overcomes anything that's hard. Put the hardest substance - say, titanium - out there, and let water flow over it. Eventually, patiently, peacefully, the water will just wear it away. Also, water will enter anywhere - through any opening at all. So, let yourself be like that. God is in nature, everywhere and always. And we have so much to learn.
I'm generally quite active and try to squeeze in a workout when I'm waiting for stuff. Like if you're cooking dinner, try to squeeze in a few squats or a few yoga moves. Or if you're brushing your teeth. You know, just trying to do more than one thing at once.
Music is more like water than a rhinoceros. It doesn't charge madly down one path. It runs away in every direction.
Try squeezing a handful of water, and see how quickly it disappears. But relax and let your hand flow in the same water, and you have the experience of the water as long as you like.
Water reflects everything it encounters. This is so commonplace that we think water is blue, when in fact it has no color.... But the water, the glorious water everywhere, has taught me that we are more than what we reflect or love. This is the work of compassion: to embrace everything clearly without imposing who we are and without losing who we are.
Ah! how little knowledge does a man acquire in his life. He gathers it up like water, but like water it runs between his fingers, and yet, if his hands be but wet as though with dew, behold a generation of fools call out, 'See, he is a wise man!' Is it not so?
I'm a bit like a sponge. When I'm not writing I absorb life like water. When I write I squeeze the sponge a little - and out comes, not water but ink.
Water does not resist. Water flows. When you plunge your hand into it, all you feel is a caress. Water is not a solid wall, it will not stop you. But water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.
We buy a bottle of water in the city, where clean water comes out in its taps. You know, back in 1965, if someone said to the average person, 'You know in thirty years you are going to buy water in plastic bottles and pay more for that water than for gasoline?' Everybody would look at you like you're completely out of your mind.
It's like a garden: Whatever you water the most will do the best. At some point, you decide whether you'll water your career or your relationship more.
We buy a bottle of water in the city, where clean water comes out in its taps. You know, back in 1965, if someone said to the average person, You know in thirty years you are going to buy water in plastic bottles and pay more for that water than for gasoline? Everybody would look at you like youre completely out of your mind.
Trusting someone was like holding a little water in your cupped hands - it was so easy to spill the water, and you could never get it back.
to love life, to love it even when you have no stomach for it and everything you've held dear crumbles like burnt paper in your hands, your throat filled with the silt of it. When grief sits with you, its tropical heat thickening the air, heavy as water more fit for gills than lungs; when grief weights you like your own flesh only more of it, an obesity of grief, you think, How can a body withstand this? Then you hold life like a face between your palms, a plain face, no charming smile, no violet eyes, and you say, yes, I will take you I will love you, again.
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