A Quote by Nick Burd

I looked in the mirror and stared at my reflection, until I was in the head-clearing trance that comes when you stare at something for a long time. — © Nick Burd
I looked in the mirror and stared at my reflection, until I was in the head-clearing trance that comes when you stare at something for a long time.
You are not the one who experiences liberation; you are the clearing, the opening, the emptiness, in which any experience comes and goes, like reflections on the mirror. And you are the mirror, the mirror mind, and not any experienced reflection.
I shut the bathroom door and caught sight of my face in the mirror. I had no idea how quickly it was to change, to fade. If I had, I would have stared at my reflection, memorizing it. It was the last time I would look into a real mirror for more than a decade.
I don't drink blood, and last time I looked in the mirror, I had a reflection.
The abyss you stare into and that stares back at you is your reflection in the mirror - we all have it - that shadow self - that dark heart.
I am a mirror to my neighbor, and in that mirror, he must see a reflection of Jesus. If that mirror is cloudy or distorted, Jesus' reflection will be so vague it will hardly be seen.
I remember the day I turned thirty. I was getting out of the shower and I stood in front of the mirror and stared at myself for a long time. I examined every inch of my body and appreciated the fact that I finally looked like a grown woman. I also assumed that this was how I was going to look for the rest of my life. The way I saw it, I was never going to age; I'd just look up one day and be old.
The second time I took acid, I watched myself in the mirror for nine hours. What I realized, when I stared, was that my face looked exactly the same when I cried as when I laughed. After awhile I couldn't tell which I was doing. Relief was just pain inside out.
My life is routine. I wake up early in the morning. I brush my teeth. I sit on the floor of the cell I do not go to breakfast. I stare at a gray cement wall. I keep my legs crossed my back straight my eyes forward. I take deep breaths in and out, in and out, and I try not to move. I sit for as long as I can I sit until everything hurts I sit until everything stops hurting I sit until I lose myself in the gray wall I sit until my mind becomes as blank as the gray wall. I sit and I stare and I breathe. I sit and I stare. I breathe.
Every so often every artist feels, 'I'll never paint again. The muse has gone out the window.' In 1985, I hardly painted at all for three months, and it was agonizing. I looked at reproductions. I stared at Matisse. I stared at the Old Masters. I stared at the Quattrocento. And I thought to myself - Don't push it! If you try too hard to get at something, you almost push it away.
She stood in front of the mirror a long time, and finally decided she either looked like a sap or else she looked very beautiful. One or the other.
I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Some lipstick would go with this truck, I thought.
I'm not interested in stories. Stories are interesting but I don't think my head works that way. I remember at age 10 I dreamt of making animated cartoons as loops, something you could just project on your wall and look at from time to time. Kind of, something to stare at, something that's always there.
I remember reading an interview that Anthony Hopkins had given about how he developed Hannibal Lecter. He said he just looked in the mirror and, I forget exactly what it was, but he looked in the mirror and realized that when he smiled, it looked creepy.
The only routine I have is going for a run and a swim with the dog in the morning, between 8am and 9am - that is my head-clearing space. I am religious about holding on to that time: whatever happens, I don't want to know about it until after that.
Whatever art is, it is no longer something primarily to be looked at. Stared at, perhaps, but not primarily looked at
When I was 15-years-old, I took off my clothes and looked in the mirror. When I stared at myself naked, I realized that to be perfectly proportioned I would need twenty-inch arms to match the rest of me.
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