Bob Ross Quotes

We don't make mistakes, just happy little accidents.

Talent is a pursued interest. Anything that you're willing to practice, you can do.

There's nothing wrong with having a tree as a friend.

I guess I’m a little weird. I like to talk to trees and animals. That’s okay though; I have more fun than most people.

Let's get crazy.

The secret to doing anything is believing that you can do it. Anything that you believe you can do strong enough, you can do. Anything. As long as you believe.

There are no mistakes, only happy accidents.

I can't think of anything more rewarding than being able to express yourself to others through painting. Exercising the imagination, experimenting with talents, being creative; these things, to me, are truly the windows to your soul.

All you need to paint is a few tools, a little instruction, and a vision in your mind.

wash the brush, just beats the devil out of it

Gotta have opposites, light and dark and dark and light, in painting. It’s like in life. Gotta have a little sadness once in awhile so you know when the good times come. I'm waiting on the good times now.

This is your world You’re the creator Find freedom on this canvas Believe, that you can do it, ‘Cuz you can do it. You can do it.

There are no mistakes, just happy accidents.

Believe that you can do it cause you can do it.

I started painting as a hobby when I was little. I didn't know I had any talent. I believe talent is just a pursued interest. Anybody can do what I do.

Lets build a happy little cloud. Lets build some happy little trees.

Mix up a little more shadow color here, then we can put us a little shadow right in there. See how you can move things around? You have unlimited power on this canvas -- can literally, literally move mountains

There's nothing in the world that breeds success like success.

You know me, I think there ought to be a big old tree right there. And let's give him a friend. Everybody needs a friend.

Now then, let's come right down in here and put some nice big strong arms on these trees. Tree needs an arm too. It'll hold up the weight of the forest. Little bird has to have a place to set there. There he goes...

We don't make mistakes, we just have happy accidents.

lets get a little crazy here

This is your bravery test. You worked so hard and then a crazy-haired guy tells you to throw in a big ol' tree on top of it all. Take a two-inch brush...

Anything we don't like, we'll turn it into a happy little tree or something; we don't make mistakes, we just have happy accidents.

What can be painted can be punished.

I think you have a better shot at meeting Bob Ross.

The very fact that you're aware of suffering is enough reason to be overjoyed that you're alive and can experience it.

It's the imperfections that make something beautiful. That's what makes it different and unique from everything else.

Take a painting class with Bob Ross.

Talent is nothing more than a pursued interest.

Put light against light - you have nothing. Put dark against dark - you have nothing. It's the contrast of light and dark that each gives the other one meaning.

We put some dark in, only so our light will show. You have to have dark in order to show light.

They say everything looks better with odd numbers of things. But sometimes I put even numbers—just to upset the critics.

If what you're doing doesn't make you happy, you're doing the wrong thing.

If what you're doing doesn't make you happy, you're doing the wrong thing.

In life you need colors.

All it takes is just a little change of perspective and you begin to see a whole new world.

Just let go - and fall like a little waterfall

There is immense joy in just watching all the little creatures in nature.

We each see the world in our own way. That's what makes it such a special place.

You'll never believe what you can do until you get in there and try it.

You want to hear my list? Take a painting class with Bob Ross. Lots of happy little trees and cadmium yellow that you don’t think will work but then . . .” “He’s dead,” I tell him. He gives me a lopsided grin. “Ah, well, then I guess I’ll just have to settle for sex in the Vatican!” I roll my eyes at him. “I think you have a better shot at meeting Bob Ross.

We have no limits to our world. We're only limited by our imagination.

I think each of us, sometime in our life, has wanted to paint a picture.

Every single thing in the world has its own personality, and it is up to you to make friends with the little rascals.

There's beauty in every tree and every bush. Just take the time to look at'em.

We don't really know where this goes, and I'm not sure we really care.

In nature, dead trees are just as normal as live trees.

Friends are the most important commodity in the world. Even a tree needs a friend.

If we all painted the same way, what a boring world it would be.

THE STOLEN CHILD Where dips the rocky highland Of Sleuth Wood in the lake, There lies a leafy island Where flapping herons wake The drowsy water rats; There we've hid our faery vats, Full of berrys And of reddest stolen cherries. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wave of moonlight glosses The dim gray sands with light, Far off by furthest Rosses We foot it all the night, Weaving olden dances Mingling hands and mingling glances Till the moon has taken flight; To and fro we leap And chase the frothy bubbles, While the world is full of troubles And anxious in its sleep. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Where the wandering water gushes From the hills above Glen-Car, In pools among the rushes That scarce could bathe a star, We seek for slumbering trout And whispering in their ears Give them unquiet dreams; Leaning softly out From ferns that drop their tears Over the young streams. Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand. Away with us he's going, The solemn-eyed: He'll hear no more the lowing Of the calves on the warm hillside Or the kettle on the hob Sing peace into his breast, Or see the brown mice bob Round and round the oatmeal chest. For he comes, the human child, To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

That's initially what got me interested in painting, is that I could create any kind of world that I wanted. No bad stuff here. That's why we have happy little trees, and everything's happy here.

When I think of Tao, I think of the artist Bob Ross and his famous painting techniques. I can hear him say, “It’s your tree, you can make it look any way you want to.

Bob Ross had encouraged artists to immerse themselves in their paintings, but this was taking it to a whole new level.

That includes the gross parts, which I am learning to accept (without condoning) through the words of the great Bob Ross: “You can’t have light without a little darkness.

Science, art, community, and nature make manifest that bad will or mistakes can lead to progress, like Bob Ross on his show The Joy of Painting reminding us that when we make big mistakes on canvas, we can turn them into birds—“Yeah, they’re birds now!

Whichever way works for you, that's the right way and that's all that counts

You have to have dark in order to show light, just like in life.

They say everything looks better with odd numbers of things. But sometimes I put even numbers — just to upset the critics.

Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing attaches a form to a file. Ann Williams turns a page. Anand Singh turns two pages at once by mistake and turns one back which makes a slightly different sound. David Cusk turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages of two separate files at the same time. Ken Wax turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Chris Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ann Williams sniffs slightly and turns a page. Meredith Rand does something to a cuticle. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Howard Cardwell turns a page. Kenneth ‘Type of Thing’ Hindle detaches a Memo 402-C(1) from a file. ‘Second-Knuckle’ Bob McKenzie looks up briefly while turning a page. David Cusk turns a page. A yawn proceeds across one Chalk’s row by unconscious influence. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Rotes Group Room 2 hushed and brightly lit, half a football field in length. Howard Cardwell shifts slightly in his chair and turns a page. Lane Dean Jr. traces his jaw’s outline with his ring finger. Ed Shackleford turns a page. Elpidia Carter turns a page. Ken Wax attaches a Memo 20 to a file. Anand Singh turns a page. Jay Landauer and Ann Williams turn a page almost precisely in sync although they are in different rows and cannot see each other. Boris Kratz bobs with a slight Hassidic motion as he crosschecks a page with a column of figures. Ken Wax turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page. Ambient room temperature 80° F. Sandra Pounder makes a minute adjustment to a file so that the page she is looking at is at a slightly different angle to her. ‘Irrelevant’ Chris Fogle turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Each Tingle’s two-tiered hemisphere of boxes. ‘Groovy’ Bruce Channing turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Six wigglers per Chalk, four Chalks per Team, six Teams per group. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Olive Borden turns a page. Plus administration and support. Bob McKenzie turns a page. Anand Singh turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Ken Wax turns a page. Chris ‘The Maestro’ Acquistipace turns a page. David Cusk turns a page. Harriet Candelaria turns a page. Boris Kratz turns a page. Robert Atkins turns two separate pages. Anand Singh turns a page. R. Jarvis Brown uncrosses his legs and turns a page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. The slow squeak of the cart boy’s cart at the back of the room. Ken Wax places a file on top of the stack in the Cart-Out box to his upper right. Jay Landauer turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page and then folds over the page of a computer printout that’s lined up next to the original file he just turned a page of. Ken Wax turns a page. Bob Mc-Kenzie turns a page. Ellis Ross turns a page. Joe ‘The Bastard’ Biron-Maint turns a page. Ed Shackleford opens a drawer and takes a moment to select just the right paperclip. Olive Borden turns a page. Sandra Pounder turns a page. Matt Redgate turns a page and then almost instantly turns another page. Latrice Theakston turns a page. Paul Howe turns a page and then sniffs circumspectly at the green rubber sock on his pinkie’s tip. Olive Borden turns a page. Rosellen Brown turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page. Devils are actually angels. Elpidia Carter and Harriet Candelaria reach up to their Cart-In boxes at exactly the same time. R. Jarvis Brown turns a page. Ryne Hobratschk turns a page. ‘Type of Thing’ Ken Hindle looks up a routing code. Some with their chin in their hand. Robert Atkins turns a page even as he’s crosschecking something on that page. Ann Williams turns a page. Ed Shackleford searches a file for a supporting document. Joe Biron-Maint turns a page. Ken Wax turns a page.

All of the day’s planned tasks are canceled. Bob stays inside Hot Topic for the rest of the day. Left to their own devices, the group huddles together in the communal Old Navy on the first floor. At first, I think they’re holding a memorial service, but then I hear the TV playing. They’re watching DVDs of Friends on a giant, monolithic plasma screen. A citywide blackout forces Monica, Ross, Rachel, Phoebe, and Joey to hang out together. They light candles and talk about the weirdest places they’ve had sex. Phoebe sings a song. I hate Friends but I’ve seen most of the episodes.

Bob Ross is my spirit animal

Straight out of a Bob Ross painting. Oh, look over there, a happy little tree.

And the alcohol makes me not care that I’m painting stuff that would make even Bob Ross groan, were he still alive.

replied, and thought of Cathy Jones. “Touch that door handle, and I’ll let go,” she’d said, whilst balancing herself on the extreme edge of a chair, her fingers tucked beneath a noose she’d fashioned from torn bedsheets. It had taken ninety minutes to talk her out of it, he recalled, and when he’d finally left the room, he’d vomited until there was nothing but acid left in his stomach. Acid, and the burning shame of knowing that a part of him had wanted her to die. Even while he’d talked her out of it, employing every trick he knew to keep her alive, the deepest, darkest part of his heart had hoped his efforts would fail. Connor watched some indefinable emotion pass across Gregory’s face, and decided not to press it. “Briefing’s about to start,” he said, and left to join his brother at the front of the room. Casting his eye around, Gregory could see officers from all tiers of the Garda hierarchy, as well as various people he guessed were support staff or members of the forensics team. At the last minute, an attractive, statuesque woman with a sleek blonde bob flashed her warrant card and slipped into the back of the room. Precautions had been taken to ensure no errant reporters found their way inside, and all personnel were required to show their badge before the doors were closed. Niall clapped his hands and waited while conversation died down. “I want to thank you all for turning out,” he said. “It’s a hell of a way to spend your weekend.” There were a few murmurs of assent. “You’re here because there’s a killer amongst us,” he said. “Worse than anything we’ve seen in a good long while—not just here, but in the whole of Ireland. There’s no political or gang-related motivation that we’ve found, nor does there seem to be a sexual motivation, but we can’t be sure on either count because the killer leaves nothing of themselves behind. No blood, no fingerprints, no DNA that we’ve been able to use.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “Contrary to what the press have started calling him, the ‘Butcher’ isn’t really a butcher at all. It’s our view that the murders of Claire Kelly and her unborn child, and of Aideen McArdle were perpetrated by the same person. It’s also our view that this person planned the murders, probably weeks or months in advance, and executed their plans with precision. There was little or no blood found, either at the scene or on the victims’ bodies, which were cleaned with a careful eye for detail after the killer dealt one immobilising blow to the head, followed by a single knife wound to the heart. These were no frenzy attacks, they were premeditated crimes.” One of the officers raised a hand. “Is there any connection between the victims?” she asked. “Aside from being resident in the same town, where they were casual acquaintances but shared no immediate family or friends, they were both female, both married homemakers and both mothers.” “Have you ruled out a copycat?” another one asked, and Niall

A little practice and you’ll be shocked at what you can do

She had been lovely, he thought. Petite, with dark curly hair worn in a playful bob and laughing green eyes which smiled up at the camera. He wondered if it was the fact that her features were even; the kind of generic, symmetrical beauty, which made hers the kind of face that people found familiar.

Anything that you believe you can do strong enough, you can do. Anything. As long as you believe.

Put light against light - you have nothing. Put dark against dark - you have nothing. It's the contrast of light and dark that each give the other one meaning.

You have to have in order to show light, just like in life.

Bob Bigelow has also revealed that the DIA scientist told him that what shocked him at the ranch was an incident where a three-dimensional object suddenly materialised in front of him, which looked like the triangular metallic ‘bent bell’ cover art on the front of the Mike Oldfield album Tubular Bells. ‘That’s the closest thing I can come to as to what the structure of this looked like,’ Bigelow says he was told.

This means allowing yourself, just for this window of time, to think “irresponsibly.” When you adopt a divergent mindset, there are no longer mistakes. Only, in the words of the great creativity expert and landscape painter Bob Ross, “happy little accidents.

Despite the comfort of those words, I was forced to lean on God entirely in those dark weeks after Ross’s death. I often thought of the Scripture verse “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” I learned that God truly is sufficient and that his strength is made perfect in weakness. I learned that in my life on earth, I live as one who is on an adventure that could end at any moment. I am not in control!

Bob Ross: “You can’t have light without a little darkness.

The reality is that most people of color learn early in America that we will have to work twice as hard to get half as far, and when we fail, no one will help us fall up. Immigrants, people of color, and women learn early that in order to make it in Amreeka you have to daft punk it through life. You have to do everything harder, better, faster, stronger, and smarter. Those are just the rules. The streets of Amreeka aren't paved with gold; they're paved with blood. As an immigrant, you'll take a beating but you'll be like Rick Ross and keep hustling. if Bob works eight hours a day, you work ten. If Samantha works late on Friday, then you work on Saturday. You go twenty feet just to get to ten feet.

I take my guided relaxations seriously. I don’t swear at you or make bad jokes in the script. We’ll keep that gentle stuff separate. Just promise me you’ll imagine that my voice sounds like Bob Ross when you read through it.

Michelle Phan grew up in California with her Vietnamese parents. The classic American immigrant story of the impoverished but hardworking parents who toil to create a better life for the next generation was marred, in Phan’s case, by her father’s gambling addiction. The Phan clan moved from city to city, state to state, downsizing and recapitalizing and dodging creditors and downsizing some more. Eventually, Phan found herself sleeping on a hard floor, age 16, living with her mother, who earned rent money as a nail salon worker and bought groceries with food stamps. Throughout primary and secondary school, Phan escaped from her problems through art. She loved to watch PBS, where painter Bob Ross calmly drew happy little trees. “He made everything so positive,” Phan recalls. “If you wanted to learn how to paint, and you wanted to also calm down and have a therapeutic session at home, you watched Bob Ross.” She started drawing and painting herself, often using the notes pages in the back of the telephone book as her canvas. And, imitating Ross, she started making tutorials for her friends and posting them on her blog. Drawing, making Halloween costumes, applying cosmetics—the topic didn’t matter. For three years, she blogged her problems away, fancying herself an amateur teacher of her peers and gaining a modest teenage following. This and odd jobs were her life, until a kind uncle gave her mother a few thousand dollars to buy furniture, which was used instead to send Phan to Ringling College of Art and Design. Prepared to study hard and survive on a shoestring, Phan, on her first day at Ringling, encountered a street team which was handing out free MacBook laptops, complete with front-facing webcams, from an anonymous donor. Phan later told me, with moist eyes, “If I had not gotten that laptop, I wouldn’t be here today.

Porter enumeró una serie de problemas legales. El Ministerio de Comercio no lo había consultado con el Ministerio de Defensa, como exigía la ley, para determinar si las importaciones representan una amenaza para la seguridad nacional. —Sí que lo hemos hecho —alegó Ross. —A mí no se me ha consultado nada parecido —replicó Mattis. —En eso tiene razón —respondió Ross. Explicó que había hablado con el vicesecretario de Defensa que se ocupaba de esos asuntos. Tenía algunos correos electrónicos que lo probaban. —Pues muy bien —dijo Mattis—, pero conmigo no hablaron. Porter intervino para señalar que la ley decía que había que consultar al secretario de Defensa, no a cualquiera del ministerio. Ese era el tipo de sutilezas burocráticas que reventaban a Trump. —Wilbur, ¡habla con Jim! Solucionadlo —ordenó—. Estoy harto de tanta tontería. Y hazlo rápido, porque quiero avanzar con esto. Porter vio enseguida la oportunidad de darle largas durante varias semanas más. Mattis también ayudó a ganar tiempo, diciéndole a Ross que necesitaba un análisis antes de poder opinar. Sin embargo, un análisis posterior realizado por el Ministerio de Defensa de Mattis mostraba que «el uso militar del acero representa menos del uno por ciento de la demanda total de acero de Estados Unidos» y el Ministerio de Defensa podría, por tanto, «adquirir el acero necesario para cumplir con los requisitos de la defensa nacional». 20

Wilber Ross

Happy painting!

Hidup adalah sebuah kanvas kosong, dan kamu adalah senimannya. Lukislah hidupmu dengan warna-warna yang indah.

Your smile is as infectious as the corona virus. keep that ugly ass mistake away from me you horse