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If you are an artist then you are an artist all the time, and anytime you are not making art you are just gathering inspiration or gathering supplies.

Quote IconStrater did not remember what they talked about – just “painting and writing” – Ernest, sitting by the window in the good light, and Mike on a stool to rest his bum ankle, and the two talking and Ernest walking around to see himself forming on the canvas. The first one with the grey background he said looked too much like H.G. Wells, so Mike painted another with a red background and a tougher face like a boxer. A painter could do that – change the light, alter the line, shift the color of reality until it suited his purpose. So could a writer, Ernest realized: reality was not art and realism was not photography. Once he knew his purpose, all that mattered was telling the story right; if the light needed to fade or the image needed to shift to make his point, then, like the painter, he changed what he knew and what he heard of reality to meet art’s necessity. He came to understand what Ezra told him: fiction and painting were both based on selection. Mike did not put everything into the painting, and what he left out was still invisibly present if he did it right.

Hemingway The Paris Years by Michael Reynolds

Bye Astoria. This visit was good for my soul. (at Astoria Oregon)

Quote IconOne of life’s sad facts is there are people we no longer see who nevertheless gave us some of our best or most important experiences; but they don’t know it and never will. That’s because we didn’t know it until much later, in retrospect. He thought about the summer in Greece almost thirty years before when they were together and flew from island to island on cheap rattle’y propeller planes whenever they felt like it. Ten dollar rooms with the toilet outside down the hall. They read wilted, water-stained books while sitting next to each other on the small balconies off the rooms. Or sat silently together in complete peace while staring at the sea. No matter what kind of accommodations they rented, there always seemed to be a view of the sea. Every day they ate salads of tomatoes, olives, onions, and thick savory chunks of chalk-white feta cheese drizzled in fresh olive oil for lunch. They rented a blue Vespa. They walked on black volcanic sand. He bought them baseball caps because the Greek sun was ferocious. He was happy then and knew it. But his heart needed three decades more perspective and experience to understand just how happy he had been— Hall of Fame-happy, once in a lifetime-happy. By the time he realized it, she was thousands of days gone. One of his final wishes was to tell her, thank her for those days together. And if life were magical, which it is not, to sit together again in one of those rustic tavernas at sunset watching the harbor, the boats, the stars coming out, their simple dinner being served, thank her for being… her.

Jonathan Carroll

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"It’s impossible," said pride.

"It’s risky," said experience.

"It’s pointless," said reason.

"Give it a try," whispered the heart.

Author Unknown (via thatkindofwoman)

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Any method of negotiation may be fairly judged by three criteria: It should be a wise agreement if agreement is possible. It should be efficient. And it should improve or at least not damage the relationship between the parties. (A wise agreement can be defined as one meeting the legitimate interests of each side to the extent possible, resolves conflicting interests fairly, is durable, and takes community interests into account.)

— Roger Fisher and William Ury, Getting To Yes, The Harvard Negotiation Project