Edmund Crispin Quotes
Quotes to Explore
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I wrote for so many years in a bubble, the way everyone does, and there were large swaths of time where you think you're doing this for nothing. An audience is crucial, a back and forth with the invisible readers.
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When I was 17, I worked in a mentoring program in Harlem designed to improve the community. That's when I first gained an appreciation of the Harlem Renaissance, a time when African-Americans rose to prominence in American culture. For the first time, they were taken seriously as artists, musicians, writers, athletes, and as political thinkers.
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Things have no hold on the soul. They have no access to it, cannot move or direct it. It is moved and directed by itself alone. It takes the things before it and interprets them as it sees fit. (Hays translation)
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The studio experience fluctuates depending on who you work with, it's not like it's all one experience. Every studio is different, every producer's personality is different. You never know what you're going to do.
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But what will happen -- and I have seen this in previous catastrophes and hurricanes -- there is a bright spot in that new jobs do get created.
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Labour has its unique place in a cultured human family.
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But everyone's an expert with the virtue of hindsight . . . .
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The whole history of the Christian Church is a mixture of errors and violence.
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I just think it's good to have a big, living, breathing piece of music that's not just songs.
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Bulnerable without strength is vulnerable, and being vulnerable means you can be victimized.
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Old love, old love, How can I be true? Shall I be faithless to myself Or to you?
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Part of you is the wind,” he murmured. “Oui, that is true. But even the wind sometimes rests.” Shaking her head, she slid her hand around the back of his neck, soaking in the intrinsically male heat of his skin. “Then consider me an endless storm.
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Love is hurt with jar and fret; Love is made a vague regret.
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I think different people have different problems and different relations to the exhibition of their work.
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For a poet is an airy thing, winged and holy, and he is not able to make poetry until he becomes inspired and goes out of his mind and his intellect is no longer in him.
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Intellect stood aside and informed him of this fact.
