Jy Is My Alles Quotes

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What changed your mind?” “Nothing, actually. I just thought, I don’t want to live with this kind of fear and doubt all my life. Where even expressions of love have to be taken with suspicion.
J.Y. Yang (Waiting on a Bright Moon)
My greatest fear is not that I will find some sort of half-animal creature, wild-eyed and untamed. It is that I will find a genuine monster: someone perfectly human but with a heart of stone, turned cruel from enduring years of cruelty. What if they are not a tool enslaved by the Protectorate but a willing blade? What if they are proof of what I should have known all along—that there is something broken inside me, only waiting for the right environment to bring it out?
J.Y. Yang (The Descent of Monsters (Tensorate, #3))
While reading some old articles to jog my memory for this book, I came across an article in the Chicago Sun-Times by Rick Kogan, a reporter who traveled with Styx for a few concert dates in 1979. I remember him. When we played the Long Beach Civic Center’s 12,000-seat sports arena in California, he rode in the car with JY and me as we approached the stadium. His recounting of the scene made me smile. It’s also a great snapshot of what life was like for us back in the day. The article from 1980 was called, “The Band That Styx It To ‘Em.” Here’s what he wrote: “At once, a sleek, gray Cadillac limousine glides toward the back stage area. Small groups of girls rush from under trees and other hiding places like a pack of lions attacking an antelope. They bang on the windows, try to halt the driver’s progress by standing in front of the car. They are a desperate bunch. Rain soaks their makeup and ruins their clothes. Some are crying. “Tommy, Tommmmmmmmmy! I love you!” one girl yells as she bangs against the limousine’s window. Inside the gray limousine, James Young, the tall, blond guitarist for Styx who likes to be called J.Y. looks out the window. “It sure is raining,” he says. Next to him, bass player Chuck Panozzo, finishing the last part of a cover story on Styx in a recent issue of Record World magazine, nods his head in agreement. Then he chuckles, and says, “They think you’re Tommy.” “I’m not Tommy Shaw,” J.Y. screams. “I’m Rod Stewart.” “Tommy, Tommmmmmmmmy! I love you! I love you!” the girl persists, now trying desperately to jump on the hood of the slippery auto. “Oh brother,” sighs J.Y. And the limousine rolls through the now fully raised backstage door and he hurries to get out and head for the dressing room. This scene is repeated twice, as two more limousines make their way into the stadium, five and ten minutes later. The second car carries young guitarist Tommy Shaw, drummer John Panozzo and his wife Debbie. The groupies muster their greatest energy for this car. As the youngest member of Styx and because of his good looks and flowing blond hair, Tommy Shaw is extremely popular with young girls. Some of his fans are now demonstrating their affection by covering his car with their bodies. John and Debbie Panozzo pay no attention to the frenzy. Tommy Shaw merely smiles, and shortly all of them are inside the sports arena dressing room. By the time the last and final car appears, spectacularly black in the California rain, the groupies’ enthusiasm has waned. Most of them have started tiptoeing through the puddles back to their hiding places to regroup for the band’s departure in a couple of hours.” Tommy
Chuck Panozzo (The Grand Illusion: Love, Lies and My Life with Styx)
Trying to find my feet. There have been times I have tried to find my feet in a quicksand When I was drowning Strangling myself in order to breathe I could have died many times now But I love life more than death I love you more than I love me So here I am In a dark room With my tears dancing around my cheeks. I have been unashamed, I have locked doors just to be alone. I have shut my ears tight so I could not hear the air breathing I have doubted myself Thrown myself to worry. I have been in too many dark places That I’m struggling to remember a time I was in the light. Yet after everything, Here I am With me and my words Listening to Lust For Life Looking for anything that is light In all the wrong places. But I love you I don’t love me That’s all I need to survive.
J.Y. Frimpong (Abandoned Lilies In Unwanted Places)
Dís altyd vir my die bitterste van die hele skryfbestaan: dat jy tydens die vreugde-en-ellende van die proses self, én daarna, jou woorde net vir jouself het, maagdelik, heeltemal ongerep. Maar dat dit ook roep om die wêreld in te gaan; en dat die eerste oë wat daarna kyk, goedkeurend of afkeurend maak nie saak nie, daardie ongereptheid verstoor. Of is dit maar die óú oortuiging van iets magies wat kleef aan alles wat pril is?
Francis Galloway (Vlam in die Sneeu: Die Liefdesbriewe)