A Quote by Robert Penn Warren

Everything seems an echo of something else. — © Robert Penn Warren
Everything seems an echo of something else.
This is the trap of having something to live for: Everything else seems lifeless.
In my career, I've always felt like all great things came at once, and when something goes bad, it always seems that everything else seems to start going bad.
In some Mayan villages they even have a stage beyond the elder that they call the Echo Person. They say that when an Echo Person, whether a man or a woman, speaks, the words echo both in this world and in the other world. That's why they are called Echo People.
For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.
Everything is always coming from something else. Even if you create something, it has to be inspired by something else. If you think of Apple and Steve Jobs, he had to be inspired by something that launched the ideas in his head.
Don't be like anybody else. Be different. Then you can make a contribution. Otherwise, you just echo something; you're just a reflection.
It seems that the brain has a "small world" architecture - or at least the cortex does. Everything can connect to everything else in a few synaptic steps.
It seems that laughter needs an echo.
I suppose the biggest change to me is this kind of very oversexualizing of everything. Not that anyone wants to take the sex out of rock 'n' roll, you know - that would be ludicrous - but it seems that everything now, it's like the sexuality is the only voice; everything else is gone.
If you push hard enough you can change. You can take everything you know and round it up, turn it into something else, and keep turning things into something else.
Weirdly enough, if I'm having trouble with a guitar part - not the playing of it but the writing - I'll mess around with echo and other effects, just turn everything up and make it as crazy as can be, and it winds up taking me somewhere. I've found so many guitar parts from echo. It's limitless.
None of it seems real. Who knows? Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s actually happening to someone else. Maybe it’s something I imagined. Maybe soon I’m going to wake up and find everything fixed with Lissa and Dimitri. We’ll all be together, and he’ll be there to smile and hold me and tell me everything ‘s going to be okay. Maybe all of this really has been a dream. But I don’t think so.
Everything feels like you're in slow motion and everything you do seems like it's about two or three plays of what everybody else is doing.
I just don't think it's true that people can't do something else after they've done something that seems so permanent.
Everything around me is evaporating. My whole life, my memories, my imagination and its contents, my personality - it's all evaporating. I continuously feel that I was someone else, that I felt something else, that I thought something else. What I'm attending here is a show with another set. And the show I'm attending is myself.
It seems like journalism over here in UK, in general, is at a higher level: not overrun by all these teeny little blogs. There's more of a historical context for it or something. It seems like people review something or take a listen to something and they really do their homework. That's just what it seems like.
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