Masterpiece Painting Quotes

We've searched our database for all the quotes and captions related to Masterpiece Painting. Here they are! All 184 of them:

Time is the brush of God, as he paints his masterpiece on the heart of humanity.
Ravi Zacharias
Rowena Clark and I had met on the first day of our mixed media class. I’d sat down at her table and said, “Mind if I join you? Figure the best way to learn about art is to sit with a masterpiece.” Maybe I was in love, but I was still Adrian Ivashkov. Rowena had fixed me with a flat look. “Let’s get one thing straight. I can see through crap a mile away, and I like girls, not guys, so if you can’t handle me telling you what’s what, then you’d better take your one-liners and hair gel somewhere else. I don’t go to this school to put up with pretty boys like you. I’m here to face dubious employment options with a painting degree and then go get a Guinness after class.” I’d scooted my chair closer to the table. “You and I are going to get along just fine.
Richelle Mead (The Fiery Heart (Bloodlines, #4))
The laws of physics is the canvas God laid down on which to paint his masterpiece
Dan Brown (Angels & Demons (Robert Langdon, #1))
I have never met another like you. You are an original masterpiece.
Jenna Roads (Under a Painted Sky (Spirit Warrior, #1))
I challenge you to make your life the masterpiece you want to paint, the novel you want to read, the day you want to wake to.
Toni Sorenson
I've become like one of those people I hate, the sort who go to the museum and, instead of looking at the magnificent Brueghel, take a picture of it, reducing it from art to proof. It's not "Look what Brueghel did, painted this masterpiece" but "Look what I did, went to Rotterdam and stood in front of a Brueghel painting!
David Sedaris (Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls)
Once upon a time, there was a king who ruled a great and glorious nation. Favourite amongst his subjects was the court painter of whom he was very proud. Everybody agreed this wizzened old man pianted the greatest pictures in the whole kingdom and the king would spend hours each day gazing at them in wonder. However, one day a dirty and dishevelled stranger presented himself at the court claiming that in fact he was the greatest painter in the land. The indignant king decreed a competition would be held between the two artists, confident it would teach the vagabond an embarrassing lesson. Within a month they were both to produce a masterpiece that would out do the other. After thirty days of working feverishly day and night, both artists were ready. They placed their paintings, each hidden by a cloth, on easels in the great hall of the castle. As a large crowd gathered, the king ordered the cloth be pulled first from the court artist’s easel. Everyone gasped as before them was revealed a wonderful oil painting of a table set with a feast. At its centre was an ornate bowl full of exotic fruits glistening moistly in the dawn light. As the crowd gazed admiringly, a sparrow perched high up on the rafters of the hall swooped down and hungrily tried to snatch one of the grapes from the painted bowl only to hit the canvas and fall down dead with shock at the feet of the king. ’Aha!’ exclaimed the king. ’My artist has produced a painting so wonderful it has fooled nature herself, surely you must agree that he is the greatest painter who ever lived!’ But the vagabond said nothing and stared solemnly at his feet. ’Now, pull the blanket from your painting and let us see what you have for us,’ cried the king. But the tramp remained motionless and said nothing. Growing impatient, the king stepped forward and reached out to grab the blanket only to freeze in horror at the last moment. ’You see,’ said the tramp quietly, ’there is no blanket covering the painting. This is actually just a painting of a cloth covering a painting. And whereas your famous artist is content to fool nature, I’ve made the king of the whole country look like a clueless little twat.
Banksy (Wall and Piece)
I was an afterthought, five thousand years later. A mistake, because Ciana was gone. I was the dissonant note on the end of a masterpiece symphony. I was the brushstroke that ruined the painting.
Jodi Meadows (Incarnate (Newsoul, #1))
You have a masterpiece inside you, you know. One unlike any that has ever been created, or ever will be. If you go to your grave without painting your masterpiece, it will not get painted. No one else can paint it. Only you.
Gordon MacKenzie
Christians belive in a sovereign God who never says "Oops". We believe that all our days ... are divine strokes on the canvas of our lives by the Master Artist who certified his skill, his power, and his love in the Masterpiece of Calvary. If you doubt His skill in painting your life - look at the Calvary
John Piper
You are the artist, and your days the canvas. Will you create an original masterpiece, or live a paint-by-numbers kind of life?
John Mark Green
And they didn't spend years painting your soul into masterpiece-like existence for you to waste it on someone who doesn't appreciate you.
Nikita Gill (Wild Embers: Poems of Rebellion, Fire and Beauty)
You are the Poem I dreamed of writing, the Masterpiece I longed to paint. You are the shining Star I reached for in my ever hopeful quest for life fulfilled. Yes, I am Blessed.
Oksana Rus
In time, all great masterpieces turn into shameless creatures who laugh at their creators.
Erol Ozan
My work is the art I paint on the canvas of my life. Hopefully I'm creating a masterpiece.
L.R.W. Lee
She preferred the quiet solitary atmosphere, to create in her own world of paint and colour, the thrill of anticipating how her works would turn out as she eyed the blank sheets of paper or canvas before starting her next masterpiece. How satisfying it was to mess around in paint gear, without having to worry about spills, starch or frills, that was the life!
E.A. Bucchianeri (Brushstrokes of a Gadfly, (Gadfly Saga, #1))
Simplicity is the ultimate sophistication. When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return. Learning never exhausts the mind. Art is never finished, only abandoned. Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen. The human foot is a masterpiece of engineering and a work of art. It had long since come to my attention that people of accomplishment rarely sat back and let things happen to them. They went out and happened to things. I have been impressed with the urgency of doing. Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Being willing is not enough; we must do. As a well-spent day brings happy sleep, so a life well spent brings happy death. Water is the driving force of all nature.
Leonardo da Vinci
Each family prayer, each episode of family scripture study, and each family home evening is a brushstroke on the canvas of our souls. No one event may appear to be very impressive or memorable. But just as the yellow and gold and brown strokes of paint complement each other and produce an impressive masterpiece, so our consistency in doing seemingly small things can lead to significant spiritual results.
David A. Bednar
Where there is a true art and genuine virtuosity the artist can paint an incomparable masterpiece without leaving even a trace of his identity.
Orhan Pamuk (My Name Is Red)
You can't be creative without criticism. If your life is without critics then maybe you are painting your life's masterpiece with only a broken brown crayon.
Shannon L. Alder
The noblest calling in the world is motherhood. True motherhood is the most beautiful of all arts, the greatest of all professions. She who can paint a masterpiece, or who can write a book that will influence millions, deserve the plaudits and admiration of mankind; but she who rears successfully a family of healthy, beautiful sons and daughters whose immortal souls will exert influence throughout the ages long after paintings shall have faded, and books and statues shall have decayed or been destroyed, deserves the highest honor that man can give, and the choicest blessings of God.
David O. McKay
You can be a good painter if you study Cézanne's vision. Whoever dares to copy Van Gogh falls inevitably into the hell of imitators. For this painter didn't care about masterpieces, or even good paintings... but about what is beyond all painting, all art.
Zbigniew Herbert (The Collected Prose, 1948-1998)
She felt about a love set as a painter does about his masterpiece; each ace serve was a form of brushwork to her, and her fantastically accurate shot-placing was certainly a study in composition.
Janet Flanner (Paris Was Yesterday, 1925-1939)
It’s like God airbrushed the crap out of her, ran out of paint for everyone else, looked down at all the babies he was chucking to Earth and went ‘hahah whoops but check this one out it’s a masterpiece’.
Sara Wolf (Lovely Vicious (Lovely Vicious, #1))
You have been created from the blood of incalculable planets and immense supernovas and infinite constellations. And they didn’t spend years painting your soul into masterpiece-like existence for you to waste it on someone who doesn’t appreciate you.
Nikita Gill (Wild Embers)
It's not worth staying up all night just to paint masterpieces.
Marty Rubin
Your choices, your words, and every move you make are permanent. Life is lived in indelible ink, boy. Wake up. You’re making little bitty brushstrokes every minute you walk around on this earth. And with those tiny brushstrokes, you are creating the painting that your life will ultimately become—a masterpiece or a disaster.
Andy Andrews (The Noticer Returns: Sometimes You Find Perspective, and Sometimes Perspective Finds You)
I was a masterpiece; a painting in itself. He was changing me, molding me, and making me into something brand new. I was a blank canvas when I came to him, ready to absorb all the paint he would slather on me. He kept going, adding layer upon layer, sometimes even shedding them just so I could turn out beautiful. And he was done now, ready to let me leave and display me on a wall for people to see.
Evelyn Deshane
Even though artists of all kinds claim to put their hearts and souls into their works, it will only confuse you, for example, if you try to discern a painter by his paintings. His masterpiece may be the master because of its iridescence; it may display a hundred different perspectives through his single face.
Criss Jami (Diotima, Battery, Electric Personality)
On the great canvas of time We all create our own masterpiece. Choreographing our steps across minutes and hours Dancing over the days Painting pictures over months and Writing our stories on the years. Singing our songs that echo across eons. We are all a thread in the talent tapestry. A snapshot in the cosmic, collective collage.
Michele Jennae
The object of art is not to make salable pictures. It is to save yourself. The fools who write articles about me think that one morning I suddenly decided to write and began to produce masterpieces. There is no special trick about writing or painting either. I wrote constantly for 15 years before I produced anything with any solidity to it.... The thing of course, is to make yourself alive. Most people remain all of their lives in a stupor. The point of being an artist is that you may live.... You won't arrive. It is an endless search.
Sherwood Anderson
Just think of me as a canvas and you as the paint, and try and imagine that we are creating a masterpiece that’s so beautiful, that no other piece of art could rival its beauty.” - Clint
Angela Richardson (All the Pieces (Pieces of Lies, #3))
Pellerin used to read every available book on aesthetics, in the hope of discovering the true theory of Beauty, for he was convinced that once he had found it he would be able to paint masterpieces.
Gustave Flaubert (Sentimental Education)
Why not paint your own sky, and not leave it to others to add colour to your canvas? Why not take the brush, Point it at the canvas, and create your own Masterpiece.
Michelle Geaney
Life is like a painting; make yours a masterpiece.
Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma (Corpkshetra)
An artist who works with his hands, his head and his heart at the same time creates a masterpiece.
Amit Kalantri (Wealth of Words)
Your mind is the canvas upon which you are the artist. What will you paint on your canvas today? Will you draw a stick figure or create a masterpiece...?
James A. Murphy (The Waves of Life Quotes and Daily Meditations)
Never look back. The past is done. The future is a blank canvas. Work on creating a masterpiece. Only you have the power to make your painting beautiful.
Suzy Kassem (Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem)
She who can paint a masterpiece or write a book that will influence millions deserves the plaudits and admiration of mankind. But she who would willingly and anxiously rear successfully a family of beautiful healthy sons and daughters whose lives reflect the teachings of the gospel, deserves the highest honors that man can give, and the choicest blessings of God. In fact, in her high duty and service to humanity, endowing with mortality eternal spirits, she is a co-partner with the Great Creator Himself.
David O. McKay
Write the masterpiece that has not been written. Sing the masterpiece that has not been sung. Paint the masterpiece that has not been painted. Create the masterpiece that has not been created.
Matshona Dhliwayo
I read in my guidebook that Michelangelo was miserable while painting his masterpiece. His back and neck ached. Paint fell constantly into his hair and eyes. He couldn’t wait to be finished, he told friends. If even Michelangelo didn’t like his work, I thought, what hope is there for the rest of us?
Phil Knight (Shoe Dog)
The instant before something comes into focus is more exciting than any sharp certainty. Photography, child, is about the passing of time. Capturing is the goal of literature. Timelessness is the task of music and painting. But a good photograph holds time just as a vase holds water. The water will evaporate and the vase becomes a memorial to it. What separates a snapshot from a masterpiece is that the latter is a metaphor of patience...
Miguel Syjuco (Ilustrado)
It's hard to know, isn't it, whether the things we face are just because the world is full of sin and sinful people, or if God is working out a plan,' Grandma continued. 'I happen to think it's both. There's sin, but through it all, He takes the mess we make and paints a masterpiece. In fact, I'm quite certain that before God can ever bless a woman—and use her to impact many—He uses the hammer, the file, and the furnace to do a holy work.
Tricia Goyer (Love Finds You in Glacier Bay, Alaska)
Life is a canvas. It's upto you, what colours you choose to paint this canvas of life into a beautiful Masterpiece.
Purvi Raniga
On the canvas of life, you are the creative painter of your success. Paint your life into a wonderful masterpiece of excellence.
Mark F. LaMoure
You are the artistic painter of your success. Paint your life day-by-day, into the masterpiece of excellence you want.
Mark F. LaMoure
You are a painter of success. Paint your life into a masterpiece of excellence.
Mark LaMoure (Step into Your Vision 2.0: 24 Inspirational Leaders Share Their Goal-Setting Secrets)
... she wore a masterpiece smile with smudges of paint and graphite across her cheek, and her eyes were a Jackson Pollock painting.
Ellie Lieberman (Solving for X)
He had been always about to paint a masterpiece, but had never yet begun it.
O. Henry (The Complete Works of O. Henry: Short Stories, Poems and Letters)
Now I understand the depth of the sadness.” William turned and looked at her. “In the painting? Adele’s eyes look as though they go deeper than the back of the canvas. It’s because of what she saw, because of all the people who walked by her and she was powerless to stop it.
Kristy Cambron (The Butterfly and the Violin (Hidden Masterpiece, #1))
The lawyer was Randol Schoenberg, the grandson of a venerated Viennese composer who had fled the rise of Hitler. The return of this ominous heir was anything but welcome. The painting Schoenberg sought was a shimmering gold masterpiece, painted a century earlier, by the artistic heretic Gustav Klimt. It was a portrait of a Viennese society beauty, Adele Bloch-Bauer.
Anne-Marie O'Connor (The Lady in Gold: The Extraordinary Tale of Gustav Klimt's Masterpiece, Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer)
There is an erotic charge prising the top from a new lipstick, leaning into the mirror and painting your masterpiece. Lipstick has its own unique taste and lingers on your tongue like semen.
Chloe Thurlow (Katie in Love)
However," he continued, "this canvas is preferable to the paintings of that varlet Rubens, with his mountains of Flemish flesh sprinkled with vermilion, his waves of red hair and his medley of colors.
Honoré de Balzac (The Unknown Masterpiece)
It’s not lost on me that I’m so busy recording life, I don’t have time to really live it. I’ve become like one of those people I hate, the sort who go to the museum and, instead of looking at the magnificent Brueghel, take a picture of it, reducing it from art to proof. It’s not “Look what Brueghel did, painted this masterpiece” but “Look what I did, went to Rotterdam and stood in front of a Brueghel painting!
David Sedaris (Let's Explore Diabetes with Owls)
Our life is our masterpiece, it's up to us on how we paint our story. It's up to us how we see the substances we have. At the end of the day, all our accumulated stuff will be presented as our greatest piece of work.
Nathaniel E. Quimada
There inside you exists a most beautiful and unique masterpiece of YOU. To bring its shine out, you must paint and decorate on your canvas, with all the colours of YOUR rainbow you keep and awaiting to be unleashed upon
Angie karan
You are the greatest poem ever written. You are the greatest song ever sung. You are the greatest portrait ever painted. You are the greatest symphony ever composed. You are the greatest act ever performed. You are the greatest masterpiece ever created.
Matshona Dhliwayo
How do we imagine a great love? Perhaps something along the lines of Gone with the Wind or Titanic is what comes to mind. But those aren’t really about love itself, but about a situation. Everything becomes more grand when it takes place in the context of a civil war, a shipwreck, or natural catastrophe. But that is like judging the painting by the frame. That the Mona Lisa should be judged a masterpiece largely because of the carvings that surround it. Love is love. In the dramatic stories, the people involved are physically willing to give up their lives for each other, but that is exactly what happens in the great but everyday love also. You give your lives to each other the whole way and every day, until death.
John Ajvide Lindqvist (Let the Old Dreams Die)
Curiously enough, one cannot read a book: one can only reread it. A good reader, a major reader, an active and creative reader is a rereader. And I shall tell you why. When we read a book for the first time the very process of laboriously moving our eyes from left to right, line after line, page after page, this complicated physical work upon the book, the very process of learning in terms of space and time what the book is about, this stands between us and artistic appreciation. When we look at a painting we do not have to move our eyes in a special way even if, as in a book, the picture contains elements of depth and development. The element of time does not really enter in a first contact with a painting. In reading a book, we must have time to acquaint ourselves with it. We have no physical organ (as we have the eye in regard to a painting) that takes in the whole picture and then can enjoy its details. But at a second, or third, or fourth reading we do, in a sense, behave towards a book as we do towards a painting. However, let us not confuse the physical eye, that monstrous masterpiece of evolution, with the mind, an even more monstrous achievement. A book, no matter what it is—a work of fiction or a work of science (the boundary line between the two is not as clear as is generally believed)—a book of fiction appeals first of all to the mind. The mind, the brain, the top of the tingling spine, is, or should be, the only instrument used upon a book.
Vladimir Nabokov (Lectures on Literature)
In a sense, your “small and simple” sacrifices are the dots of daily living that make up the masterpiece painting of your life. You may not see how the dots connect now, and you don’t need to yet. Simply have faith enough for the moment you are living in now. Trust in God, and “out of small things [will come] that which is great.
Dieter F. Uchtdorf
I will admit that we as young rebels always wanted fundamentalists to understand our take on their religion, but rarely, if ever, the other way around. The fundamentalists are the real artists. If you saw only a masterpiece of an original painting and someone threw a splash of red across it saying that their version is better, you would be offended too.
Criss Jami (Killosophy)
He hesitated. "Don't you see? You're like a favorite painting. A found masterpiece, I loved both for things remembered and those newly discovered.
Amanda Gray (Endless)
The laws of physics are the canvas God laid down on which to paint his masterpiece.
Dan Brown (Angels & Demons (Robert Langdon, #1))
Pearls. Take, like an oyster, your irritations, your pain. Use these to create your masterpiece.
Jessica de la Davies
You are the artistic painter of your success. Paint your life day-by-day, into a masterpiece of excellence over a lifetime.
Mark LaMoure (Step into Your Vision 2.0: 24 Inspirational Leaders Share Their Goal-Setting Secrets)
What is art, after all, if not simply giving out what you have inside you? Didn't it all boil down to sticking a female in front of you and painting her as you feel she is?
Émile Zola (The Masterpiece)
On the levels of politics and theology, beauty is perfectly compatible with nonsense and tyranny. Which is very fortunate; for if beauty were incompatible with non­sense and tyranny, there would be precious little art in the world. The masterpieces of painting, sculpture and architecture were produced as religious or political propaganda, for the greater glory of a god, a govern­ment or a priesthood. But most kings and priests have been despotic and all religions have been riddled with superstition. Genius has been the servant of tyranny and art has advertised the merits of the local cult. Time, as it passes, separates the good art from the bad meta­physics. Can we learn to make this separation, not after the event, but while it is actually taking place? That is the question.
Aldous Huxley (Brave New World Revisited)
We danced on broken glasses, painting a bloody masterpiece on the floor. The painful it got, the harder we danced. We didn't care about scars because it was us, dancing on broken glasses - with each other.
(Speaking of art): In leaving something unsaid the beholder is given a chance to complete the idea and thus a great masterpiece irresistably rivets your attention until you seem to become actually a part of it.
Kakuzō Okakura (The Book of Tea)
Jo told me once that she was an old woman everywhere but in her studio. “There I’m only myself,” she’d said. Standing in the middle of masterpieces that only Jo had ever seen and touched, I knew what she meant.
Laura Anderson Kurk (Perfect Glass)
Never look back. The past is done. The future is a blank canvas. Work on creating a masterpiece. Only you have the power to make your painting beautiful. Do not waste time chasing after success or comparing yourself to others. Every flower blooms at a different pace. Excel at doing what your passion is and only focus on perfecting it. Eventually people will see what you are great at doing, and if you are truly great, success will come chasing after you. Those who chase after success are flowers with bulbs that fade out early. Those who have success chasing after them, become eternal flowers. But remember, you were born an original work of art. Stay original always. Originals cost more than imitations. Just take a look at the the coolest people in history. History does not remember the forgettable. It honors the unique minority the majority cannot forget.
Suzy Kassem (Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem)
He was conscious—and the thought brought a gleam of pleasure into his brown agate eyes—that it was through certain words of his, musical words said with musical utterance, that Dorian Gray's soul had turned to this white girl and bowed in worship before her. To a large extent the lad was his own creation. He had made him premature. That was something. Ordinary people waited till life disclosed to them its secrets, but to the few, to the elect, the mysteries of life were revealed before the veil was drawn away. Sometimes this was the effect of art, and chiefly of the art of literature, which dealt immediately with the passions and the intellect. But now and then a complex personality took the place and assumed the office of art, was indeed, in its way, a real work of art, life having its elaborate masterpieces, just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting.
Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray)
Embracing our challenges and shortcomings illuminates the vivid pigments of our unique watercolor of life. With each stroke of difficulty and dribbles of weakness, we paint a beautiful masterpiece that is truly one-of-a-kind and stunning in its own way.
Tina Leigh
Life is like a painting. Imagine it, hit and try drawing with the pencil of first steps, fill in the colors of happiness, correct the mistakes with eraser of love and forgiveness; thus, one dream project is accomplished. Create such masterpieces just like that.
Vikrmn: CA Vikram Verma (Corpkshetra)
...when the Gods finished creating woman, they stood back and looked at what they'd done. They had given her a body strong enough to run a marathon, a mind fast enough to do six things at once, a heart big enough to love even while it was breaking, hands that could paint a masterpiece or feed a family or write a symphony. And they were afraid, because they saw that what they made was stronger than they were. They knew they had to create a secret weapon, one thing they could use to destroy her. So they gave her children.
Donna Ball (Vintage Ladybug Farm (Ladybug Farm #4))
In her book The Writing Life (1989), Annie Dillard tells the story of a fellow writer who was asked by a student, "Do you think I could be a writer?" "'Well,' the writer said, 'do you like sentences?'" The student is surprised by the question, but Dillard knows exactly what was meant. He was being told, she explains, that "if he likes sentences he could begin," and she remembers a similar conversation with a painter friend. "I asked him how he came to be a painter. He said, 'I like the smell of paint.'" The point, made implicitly (Dillard does not belabour it), is that you don't begin with a grand conception, either of the great American novel or masterpiece that will hang in the Louvre. You begin with a feel for the nitty-gritty material of the medium, paint in one case, sentences in the other.
Stanley Fish
As Susan Kare, designer of the original Mac interface, said, “You can’t really decide to paint a masterpiece. You just have to think hard, work hard, and try to make a painting that you care about. Then, if you’re lucky, your work will find an audience for whom it’s meaningful.
Seth Godin (The Practice: Shipping Creative Work)
There is nothing to be found in human eyes, and that is their terrifying and dolorous enigma, their abominable and delusive charm. There is nothing but that which we put there ourselves. That is why honest gazes are only to be found in portraits. The faded and weary eyes of martyrs, expressions tortured by ecstasy, imploring and suffering eyes, some resigned, others desperate... the gazes of saints, mendicants and princesses in exile, with pardoning smiles... the gazes of the possessed, the chosen and the hysterical... and sometimes of little girls, the eyes of Ophelia and Canidia, the eyes of virgins and witches... as you live in the museums, what eternal life, dolorous and intense, shines out of you! Like precious stones enshrined between the painted eyelids of masterpieces, you disturb us across time and across space, receivers of the dream which created you! You have souls, but they are those of the artists who wished you into being, and I am delivered to despair and mortification because I have drunk the draught of poison congealed in the irises of your eyes. The eyes of portraits ought to be plucked out.
Jean Lorrain (Monsieur De Phocas)
My students tag tables, walls, and chairs because their greatest fear is that no one will ever remember them. They do not believe they can give impassioned speeches, rally people in protest, paint masterpieces. They think they will die, small and forgotten, and it dictates their every action.
Thomm Quackenbush (Juvenile Justice: A Reference Handbook, 2nd Edition: A Reference Handbook)
Painter" "I said you are only keeping me here in the hospital, lying to my parents and saying I am madder than I am, because you only want to keep me here, squeezing my last dollar to the pennies-- I'm saner than anyone in the hospital. I had to say what every madman says-- a black phrase, the sleep of reason mothers monsters... When I am painting the canvas is a person; all I do, each blot and line's alive, when I am finished, it is shit on the canvas... But in his sketches more finished than his oils, sketches made after he did those masterpieces, constable can make us see the breeze...
Robert Lowell
God Is The Artist Of Your Landscape Will things always work out in the way you hope and want? Of course not! You are not the illustrator of your life painting. God has all the hues and brush strokes worked out. The painting He is creating, thanks to the struggle He has given you, is a masterpiece.
Cheryl Zelenka
Renowned curator Jacques Saunière staggered through the vaulted archway of the museum’s Grand Gallery. He lunged for the nearest painting he could see, a Caravaggio. Grabbing the gilded frame, the seventy-six-year-old man heaved the masterpiece toward himself until it tore from the wall and Saunière collapsed backward
Dan Brown (The Da Vinci Code (Robert Langdon, #2))
Some day you will be able to step back and see the entire work of art. In that moment you will understand how truly remarkable and beautiful your life was. You will realize that every brush stroke had a purpose. When you finally see the masterpiece in its entirety you will understand that there was no other way it could have ever been painted.
Alex Alexander (Flight of Icarus (Icarus Risen, #1))
I’m not in the advice business. However, people have been sending increasing amounts of books / videos / manuscripts / poems / photographs / artworks / long raving emails describing plans for certain masterpieces. Mostly this is a pleasure, but I would like to take the opportunity to offer one piece of advice to young artists and writers. Be disciplined. Be hard on yourself. Remember that you are competing with some of the greatest minds in history. If you are a painter, for example, you are entering into a race where Michelangelo and Picasso already have leads. Ask yourself if you have done everything you can, everything in your power, to compete with those guys. It’s not a matter of painting like them or of conceiving of art like them. You can do your own thing. It’s a matter of pushing yourself, the way they pushed themselves, to do in art what no one else could do. Why accept anything less of yourself? Wittgenstein: “What you have achieved cannot mean more to others than it does to you. Whatever it has cost you, that’s what they’ll pay.
The farmers, who rent out their house so they can stay afloat, and sleep all together in a studio, but spend their days off outside on a picnic blanket, living the lives they want to live. Drew and Melanie, with their two homes and their horses and their love story. And Rene, traveling across the world, painting temporary masterpieces. Even my uncle Pete has something good worked out with Melinda and his day trips and his best friend, my dad, who has a small nice house in San Francisco and a dozen neighborhood vendors who know him by name. All of these different ways of living. Even Sophie, with her baby in that apartment, with her record store job and her record collection. I imagine her twirling with her baby across her red carpet with Diana Ross crooning, the baby laughing, the two of them getting older in that apartment, eating meals on red vinyl chairs. Walt, too, as pathetic as his situation is, seems happy in his basement, providing entertainment to Fort Bragg's inner circle. All of them, in their own ways, manage to make their lives work.
Nina LaCour (The Disenchantments)
Like it!” I exclaimed. “It is lovely — wonderful! It is worthy to rank with the finest Italian masterpieces.” “Oh, no!” remonstrated Zara; “no, indeed! When the great Italian sculptors lived and worked — ah! one may say with the Scriptures, ‘There were giants in those days.’ Giants — veritable ones; and we modernists are the pigmies. We can only see Art now through the eyes of others who came before us. We cannot create anything new. We look at painting through Raphael; sculpture through Angelo; poetry through Shakespeare; philosophy through Plato. It is all done for us; we are copyists. The world is getting old — how glorious to have lived when it was young! But nowadays the very children are blase.
Marie Corelli (Delphi Collected Works of Marie Corelli (Illustrated) (Delphi Series Eight Book 22))
Nor did these society people add to Elstir's work in their mind's eye that temporal perspective which enabled them to like, or at least to look without discomfort at, Chardin's painting. And yet the older among them might have reminded themselves that in the course of their lives they had gradually seen, as the years bore them away from it, the unbridgeable gulf between what they considered a masterpiece by Ingres and what they had supposed must forever remain a "horror" (Manet's Olympia, for example) shrink until the two canvases seemed like twins. But we never learn, because we lack the wisdom to work backwards from the particular to the general, and imagine ourselves always to be faced with an experience which has no precedents in the past.
Marcel Proust (The Guermantes Way)
In order to understand how engineers endeavor to insure against such structural, mechanical, and systems failures, and thereby also to understand how mistakes can be made and accidents with far-reaching consequences can occur, it is necessary to understand, at least partly, the nature of engineering design. It is the process of design, in which diverse parts of the 'given-world' of the scientist and the 'made-world' of the engineer are reformed and assembled into something the likes of which Nature had not dreamed, that divorces engineering from science and marries it to art. While the practice of engineering may involve as much technical experience as the poet brings to the blank page, the painter to the empty canvas, or the composer to the silent keyboard, the understanding and appreciation of the process and products of engineering are no less accessible than a poem, a painting, or a piece of music. Indeed, just as we all have experienced the rudiments of artistic creativity in the childhood masterpieces our parents were so proud of, so we have all experienced the essence of structual engineering in our learning to balance first our bodies and later our blocks in ever more ambitious positions. We have learned to endure the most boring of cocktail parties without the social accident of either our bodies or our glasses succumbing to the force of gravity, having long ago learned to crawl, sit up, and toddle among our tottering towers of blocks. If we could remember those early efforts of ours to raise ourselves up among the towers of legs of our parents and their friends, then we can begin to appreciate the task and the achievements of engineers, whether they be called builders in Babylon or scientists in Los Alamos. For all of their efforts are to one end: to make something stand that has not stood before, to reassemble Nature into something new, and above all to obviate failure in the effort.
Henry Petroski
Seeing how prominently Edmond had displayed the masterpiece, Langdon wondered if perhaps the painting itself might hold some clue as to what Edmond had discovered. At first glance, the painting’s subject seemed far too primitive to hint at an advanced scientific discovery. Its broad uneven brushstrokes depicted a Tahitian jungle inhabited by an assortment of native Tahitians and animals.
Dan Brown (Origin (Robert Langdon, #5))
Stay away. Do not paint me in shades of love and claim me your masterpiece. I am not one to be hung on a wall, chained and imprisoned by affection and adoration. You believe me a rose but you are mistaken.   I am the wind and I will steal away your beauty as the wind often does of dandelions. And when I am done you will feel as a weed.   With a final kiss I will travel on. My love, I do not want to strip you bare.  
Andrea Michelle (Imprinted)
When I woke up in the morning the Sun was already up but hiding behind the clouds. The trees were swaying in the breeze. The clouds were floating as small boats in the sky. A strange fragrance caught me by surprise. I felt a rapturous frenzy inhaling it. The breeze drifted from the South and made me nostalgic. And life went on charting its own course. Life will paint you a masterpiece if you have the patience to see it!
Avijeet Das
Never look back. The past is done. The future is a blank canvas. Work on creating a masterpiece. Only you have the power to make your painting beautiful. Do not waste time chasing after success or comparing yourself to others. Every flower blooms at a different pace. Excel at doing what your passion is and only focus on perfecting it. Eventually people will see what you are great at doing, and if you are truly great, success will come chasing after you.
Suzy Kassem (Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem)
One of Leonardo da Vinci's most famous creations is his painting of The Last Supper. It is said that while Leonardo da Vinci was working on the painting he got into an argument with a fellow painter. Leonardo da Vinci was so mad at this colleague that in anger and out of spite he painted that man's face as the face of Judas in his painting of the upper room Supper. But then, having completed that, Leonardo da Vinci turned to paint the face of Christ and he could not do it. It wouldn't come. He couldn't visualize it. He couldn't paint the face of Christ. He put down his paintbrush and went to find the man from whom he was estranged. He forgave him; they reconciled with one another; they both apologized. They both forgave. That very evening Leonardo da Vinci had a dream and in that dream he saw the face of Christ. He rose quickly from his bed and finished the painting and it became one of his greatest masterpieces.
Fred Andrea
The wealthiest place in the world is not the gold mines of South America or the oil fields of Iraq or Iran. They are not the diamond mines of South Africa or the banks of the world. The wealthiest place on the planet is just down the road. It is the cemetery. There lie buried companies that were never started, inventions that were never made, bestselling books that were never written, and masterpieces that were never painted. In the cemetery is buried the greatest treasure of untapped potential.
Myles Munroe
The tea-master, Kobori-Enshiu, himself a daimyo, has left to us these memorable words: "Approach a great painting as thou wouldst approach a great prince." In order to understand a masterpiece, you must lay yourself low before it and await with bated breath its least utterance. An eminent Sung critic once made a charming confession. Said he: "In my young days I praised the master whose pictures I liked, but as my judgement matured I praised myself for liking what the masters had chosen to have me like.
Kakuzō Okakura (The Book of Tea)
This was it. This would be my final mission. An overwhelming sadness swept over me at the realization. There would be no more racing across campus to replace the missing arm of the Caesar Augustus statue with one made of pink duct tape. My mind would no longer be used as a photographic tool to unveil a terrorist’s plan. No more last-minute science experiments to help rescue a father and daughter from a terrorist organization. I wouldn’t get to rescue myself with the aid of a Millard-enhanced device. No more disguises involving wigs and glasses to save a Van Gogh painting. The Mariinsky Theatre, the Superman building, the Louvre—my stories would disappear, along with my memories. Light had vanished around me as the ocean swallowed me. I’d been unable to save a helpless girl from her evil kidnapper. In the darkness I heard Daly’s voice, clear and strong, almost like he was there. Don’t give up. Fight. Push yourself. Alexandra Stewart can make a masterpiece out of any canvas. He was right—I couldn’t give up. (page 206)
Robin M. King (Memory of Monet (Remembrandt, #3))
It is the certainty of never that hurts most. The knowledge that I will never eat star-shaped peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with her in the pediatric ward again. Never dance around her living room, headbanging our wigs to the beat. Never watch her paint a new masterpiece. I understand why people believe in the afterlife, why they soothe themselves with the faith that those who are no longer with us still exist elsewhere, eternally, in a celestial realm free of pain. As for me, all I know is that here on this earth, I cannot find my friend.
Suleika Jaouad (Between Two Kingdoms: A Memoir of a Life Interrupted)
You are a masterpiece. A painting. A poem. A song. A statue. A work of art. Think of yourself that way. Embrace yourself that way. Honor yourself that way. In doing so you are honoring Him who made you. But you don't feel like a masterpiece/ Thats ok because I'm not talking about your emotions. I'm talking about you. Those feelings are real, but in a sense, they are irrelevant because they don't change the facts. You are a masterpiece whether you feel like one or not. You may feel like a failure, but God says you are his workmanship, created n Christ Jesus for good works. Thats the reality you need to focus on when your feelings tell you something else. God will raise your feelings up to your destiny, don't lower your destiny down to your feelings.
Tony Evens
Incidentally, I use the word reader very loosely. Curiously enough, one cannot read a book: one can only reread it. A good reader, a major reader, an active and creative reader is a rereader. And I shall tell you why. When we read a book for the very first time the very process of laboriously moving our eyes from left to right, line after line, page after page, this complicated physical work upon the book, the very process of learning in terms of space and time what the book is about, this stands between us and artistic appreciation. When we look at a painting we do not have to move our eyes in a special way even if, as in a book, the picture contains elements of depth and development. The element of time does not really enter in a first contact with a painting. In reading a book, we must have time to acquaint ourselves with it. We have no physical organ (as we have the eye in regard to a painting) that takes in the whole picture and then can enjoy its details. But at a second, or third, or fourth reading we do, in a sense, behave towards a book as we do towards a painting. However, let us not confuse the physical eye, that monstrous masterpiece of evolution, with the mind, an even more monstrous achievement. A book, no matter what it is-a work of fiction or a work of science (the boundary between the two is not as clear as is generally believed)-a book of fiction appeals first of all to the mind. The mind, the brain, the top of the tingling spine, is, or should be, the only instrument used upon a book.
Vladimir Nabokov
For instance, in one play the palace of Lord Hosokawa, in which was preserved the celebrated painting of Dharuma by Sesson, suddenly takes fire through the negligence of the samurai in charge. Resolved at all hazards to rescue the precious painting, he rushes into the burning building and seizes the kakemono, only to find all means of exit cut off by the flames. Thinking only of the picture, he slashes open his body with his sword, wraps his torn sleeve about the Sesson and plunges it into the gaping wound. The fire is at last extinguished. Among the smoking embers is found a half- consumed corpse, within which reposes the treasure uninjured by the fire. Horrible as such tales are, they illustrate the great value that we set upon a masterpiece, as well as the devotion of a trusted samurai.
Kakuzō Okakura (The Book of Tea)
June Afternoon" Didn't I tell you everything is possible in this deja vu? Try the river boat, the carousel, feed the pigeons, Bar-B-Q. Look at all the people, happy faces all around. Smiling, throwing kisses, busy making lazy sounds It's a bright June afternoon, it never gets dark. Wah-wah! Here comes the sun. Get your green, green tambourine, let's play in the park. Wah-wah! Here comes the sun Some folks are on blankets, slowly daydreaming and reaching for their food. Let's go buy an ice-cream and a magazine with an attitude and put on a cassette, we can pretend that you're a star cos life's so very simple just like la-la-la It's a bright June afternoon... There's a painter painting his masterpiece. There are some squirrels jumping in the trees, There's a wide-eyed boy with a red balloon. All my life I've longed for this afternoon.
Every country has its grand canvas, Sasha—the so-called masterpiece that hangs in a hallowed hall and sums up the national identity for generations to come. For the French it is Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People; for the Dutch, Rembrandt’s Night Watch; for the Americans, Washington Crossing the Delaware; and for we Russians? It is a pair of twins: Nikolai Ge’s Peter the Great Interrogating Alexei and Ilya Repin’s Ivan the Terrible and His Son. For decades, these two paintings have been revered by our public, praised by our critics, and sketched by our diligent students of the arts. And yet, what do they depict? In one, our most enlightened Tsar studies his oldest son with suspicion, on the verge of condemning him to death; while in the other, unflinching Ivan cradles the body of his eldest, having already exacted the supreme measure with a swing of the scepter to the head.
Amor Towles (A Gentleman in Moscow)
The Louvre’s much restored three wings or pavilions, the Sully, Denon, and Richelieu, were once the galleries where courtiers enjoyed royal hospitality and entertainments (and The Princesse de Clèves her secret surges of immoral passion). On a quiet un-crowded evening visit to the Louvre, it’s easy to imagine the masked and dancing couples in these pavilions, the rustle of silk, the whisperings of lovers, the royal entourage. The Louvre’s art collection was the result of François I’s enterprising enthusiasm for Italian art. He imported masterpieces by Uccello, Titian, Giorgione, and, most notably, Leonardo da Vinci himself, whose Mona Lisa—La Joconde in French—was and remains the most valued painting in the royal collection. Montaigne does not mention the paintings or the Italian sculptor Benvenuto Cellini whom François also imported to help transform gloomy Paris into a city of bright and saucy opulence.
Susan Cahill (The Streets of Paris: A Guide to the City of Light Following in the Footsteps of Famous Parisians Throughout History)
The enemy of my soul didn't want me painting that day. To create meant that I would look a little bit like my Creator. To overcome the terrifying angst of the blank canvas meant I would forever have more compassion for other artists. You better believe as I placed the first blue and gray strokes onto the white emptiness before me, the "not good enough" statement was pulsing through my head in almost deafening tones... This parlaying lie is one of his favorite tactics to keep you disillusioned by disappointments. Walls go up, emotions run high, we get guarded, defensive, demotivated, and paralyzed by the endless ways we feel doomed to fail. This is when we quit. This is when we settle for the ease of facebook.... This is when we get a job to simply make money instead of pursuing our calling to make a difference. This is when we put the paintbrush down and don't even try. So there I was. Standing before my painted blue boat, making a choice of which voice to listen to. I'm convinced God was smiling. Pleased. Asking me to find delight in what is right. Wanting me to have compassion for myself by focusing on that part of my painting that expressed something beautiful. To just be eager to give that beauty to whoever dared to look at my boat. To create to love others. Not to beg them for validation. But the enemy was perverting all that. Perfection mocked my boat. The bow was too high, the details too elementary, the reflection on the water too abrupt, and the back of the boat too off-center. Disappointment demanded I hyper-focused on what didn't look quite right. It was my choice which narrative to hold on to: "Not good enough" or "Find delight in what is right." Each perspective swirled, begging me to declare it as truth. I was struggling to make peace with my painting creation, because I was struggling to make make peace with myself as God's creation. Anytime we feel not good enough we deny the powerful truth that we are a glorious work of God in progress. We are imperfect because we are unfinished. So, as unfinished creations, of course everything we attempt will have imperfections. Everything we accomplish will have imperfections. And that's when it hit me: I expect a perfection in me and in others that not even God Himself expects. If God is patient with the process, why can't I be? How many times have I let imperfections cause me to be too hard on myself and too harsh with others? I force myself to send a picture of my boat to at least 20 friends. I was determined to not not be held back by the enemy's accusations that my artwork wasn't good enough to be considered "real art". This wasn't for validation but rather confirmation that I could see the imperfections in my painting but not deem it worthless. I could see the imperfections in me and not deem myself worthless. It was an act of self-compassion. I now knew to stand before each painting with nothing but love, amazement, and delight. I refused to demand anything more from the artist. I just wanted to show up for every single piece she was so brave to put on display.. Might I just be courageous enough to stand before her work and require myself to find everything about it I love? Release my clenched fist and pouty disappointments, and trade my "live up" mentality for a "show up" one? It is so much more freeing to simply show up and be a finder of the good. Break from the secret disappointments. Let my brain venture down the tiny little opening of love.. And I realized what makes paintings so delightful. It's there imperfections. That's what makes it art. It's been touched by a human. It's been created by someone whose hands sweat and who can't possibly transfer divine perfection from what her eyes see to what her fingertips can create. It will be flawed.
Lysa TerKeurst (It's Not Supposed to Be This Way: Finding Unexpected Strength When Disappointments Leave You Shattered)
Horse Frightened by a Lion depicts a majestic stallion in a very different situation. Stubbs painted this magnetic masterpiece to illustrate the nature of the sublime, which was one of his era's most popular philosophical concepts,and its relation to a timelessly riveting feeling: fear. The magnificent horse galloping through a vast wilderness encounters the bottom-up stimulus of a crouching predator and responds with a dramatic display of what psychologists mildly call "negative emotion." The equine superstar's arched neck, dilated eyes, and flared nostrils are in fact the very picture of overwhelming dread. The painting's subject matter reflects he philosopher Edmund Burke's widely circulated Philosophical Enquiry into the Origins of Our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful, which asserts that because "terror" is unparalleled in commanding "astonishment," or total, single-pointed,--indeed, rapt--attention, it is "the ruling principle of the sublime.
Winifred Gallagher is because man's condition is ambiguous that he seeks, through failure and outrageousness, to save his existence. Thus, to say that action has to be lived in its truth, that is, in the consciousness of the antinomies which it involves, does not mean that one has to renounce it. In Plutarch Lied Pierrefeu rightly says that in war there is no victory which can not be regarded as unsuccessful, for the objective which one aims at is the total annihilation of the enemy and this result is never attained; yet there are wars which are won and wars which are lost. So is it with any activity; failure and success are two aspects of reality which at the start are not perceptible. That is what makes criticism so easy and art so difficult: the critic is always in a good position to show the limits that every artist gives himself in choosing himself; painting is not given completely either in Giotto or Titian or Cezanne; it is sought through the centuries and is never finished; a painting in which all pictorial problems are resolved is really inconceivable; painting itself is this movement toward its own reality; it is not the vain displacement of a millstone turning in the void; it concretizes itself on each canvas as an absolute existence. Art and science do not establish themselves despite failure but through it; which does not prevent there being truths and errors, masterpieces and lemons, depending upon whether the discovery or the painting has or has not known how to win the adherence of human consciousnesses; this amounts to saying that failure, always ineluctable, is in certain cases spared and in others not.
Simone de Beauvoir (The Ethics of Ambiguity)
We were in Julie’s room one night, my eldest daughter and I, maybe a decade ago now. I wanted to show her how the canvas painting she had carefully labored over for her little sister's Christmas gift was framed and hung on the wall. I said, gazing at her masterpiece with no small amount of motherly pride, “Now it looks like a real work of art”. Bella looked at me quizzically, wondering yet again how her mother could possibly understand so little about the world. “Mama, every time you make something, or draw something, or paint something, it is already real art. There is no such thing as art that is not real” And so I said that she was right, and didn’t it look nice, and once again, daughter became guru and mother became willing student. Which is, I sometimes think, the way it was meant to be. ~~~~~ art is always real. all of it. even the stuff you don’t understand. even the stuff you don’t like. even the stuff that you made that you would be embarrassed to show your best friend that photo that you took when you first got your DSLR, when you captured her spirit perfectly but the focus landed on her shoulder? still art. the painting you did last year the first time you picked up a brush, the one your mentor critiqued to death? it’s art. the story you are holding in your heart and so desperately want to tell the world? definitely art. the scarf you knit for your son with the funky messed up rows? art. art. art. the poem scrawled on your dry cleaning receipt at the red light. the dress you want to sew. the song you want to sing. the clay you’ve not yet molded. everything you have made or will one day make or imagine making in your wildest dreams. it’s all real, every last bit. because there is no such thing as art that is not real.
Jeanette LeBlanc
Brunelleschi’s successor as a theorist of linear perspective was another of the towering Renaissance polymaths, Leon Battista Alberti (1404 –1472), who refined many of Brunelleschi’s experiments and extended his discoveries about perspective. An artist, architect, engineer, and writer, Alberti was like Leonardo in many ways: both were illegitimate sons of prosperous fathers, athletic and good-looking, never-married, and fascinated by everything from math to art. One difference is that Alberti’s illegitimacy did not prevent him from being given a classical education. His father helped him get a dispensation from the Church laws barring illegitimate children from taking holy orders or holding ecclesiastical offices, and he studied law at Bologna, was ordained as a priest, and became a writer for the pope. During his early thirties, Alberti wrote his masterpiece analyzing painting and perspective, On Painting, the Italian edition of which was dedicated to Brunelleschi. Alberti had an engineer’s instinct for collaboration and, like Leonardo, was “a lover of friendship” and “open-hearted,” according to the scholar Anthony Grafton. He also honed the skills of courtiership. Interested in every art and technology, he would grill people from all walks of life, from cobblers to university scholars, to learn their secrets. In other words, he was much like Leonardo, except in one respect: Leonardo was not strongly motivated by the goal of furthering human knowledge by openly disseminating and publishing his findings; Alberti, on the other hand, was dedicated to sharing his work, gathering a community of intellectual colleagues who could build on each other’s discoveries, and promoting open discussion and publication as a way to advance the accumulation of learning. A maestro of collaborative practices, he believed, according to Grafton, in “discourse in the public sphere.” When Leonardo was a teenager in Florence, Alberti was in his sixties and spending much of his time in Rome, so it is unlikely they spent time together. Alberti was a major influence nonetheless.
Walter Isaacson (Leonardo da Vinci)
Fine art galleries are the excellent setups for exhibiting art, generally aesthetic art such as paints, sculptures, and digital photography. Basically, art galleries showcase a range of art designs featuring contemporary and traditional fine art, glass fine art, art prints, and animation fine art. Fine art galleries are dedicated to the advertising of arising artists. These galleries supply a system for them to present their jobs together with the works of across the country and internationally popular artists. The UNITED STATE has a wealth of famous art galleries. Lots of villages in the U.S. show off an art gallery. The High Museum of Fine art, Alleged Gallery, Henry Art Gallery, National Gallery of Art Gallery, Washington Gallery of Modern Art, Agora Gallery, Rosalux Gallery, National Portrait Gallery, The Alaska House Gallery, and Anchorage Gallery of History and Art are some of the renowned fine art galleries in the United States. Today, there are on the internet fine art galleries showing initial artwork. Several famous fine art galleries show regional pieces of art such as African fine art, American art, Indian fine art, and European art, in addition to individual fine art, modern-day and modern fine art, and digital photography. These galleries collect, show, and keep the masterpieces for the coming generations. Many famous art galleries try to entertain and educate their local, nationwide, and international audiences. Some renowned fine art galleries focus on specific areas such as pictures. A great variety of well-known fine art galleries are had and run by government. The majority of famous fine art galleries supply an opportunity for site visitors to buy outstanding art work. Additionally, they organize many art-related tasks such as songs shows and verse readings for kids and grownups. Art galleries organize seminars and workshops conducted by prominent artists. Committed to quality in both art and solution, most well-known fine art galleries provide you a rich, exceptional experience. If you wish to read additional information, please visit this site
Famous Art Galleries
These Claudines, then…they want to know because they believe they already do know, the way one who loves fruit knows, when offered a mango from the moon, what to expect; and they expect the loyal tender teasing affection of the schoolgirl crush to continue: the close and confiding companionship, the pleasure of the undemanding caress, the cuddle which consummates only closeness; yet in addition they want motherly putting right, fatherly forgiveness and almost papal indulgence; they expect that the sights and sounds, the glorious affairs of the world which their husbands will now bring before them gleaming like bolts of silk, will belong to the same happy activities as catching toads, peeling back tree bark, or powdering the cheeks with dandelions and oranging the nose; that music will ravish the ear the way the trill of the blackbird does; that literature will hold the mind in sweet suspense the way fairy tales once did; that paintings will crowd the eye with the delights of a colorful garden, and the city streets will be filled with the same cool dew-moist country morning air they fed on as children. But they shall not receive what they expect; the tongue will be about other business; one will hear in masterpieces only pride and bitter contention; buildings will have grandeur but no flowerpots or chickens; and these Claudines will exchange the flushed cheek for the swollen vein, and instead of companionship, they will get sex and absurd games composed of pinch, leer, and giggle—that’s what will happen to “let’s pretend.” 'The great male will disappear into the jungle like the back of an elusive ape, and Claudine shall see little of his strength again, his intelligence or industry, his heroics on the Bourse like Horatio at the bridge (didn’t Colette see Henri de Jouvenel, editor and diplomat and duelist and hero of the war, away to work each day, and didn’t he often bring his mistress home with him, as Willy had when he was husband number one?); the great affairs of the world will turn into tawdry liaisons, important meetings into assignations, deals into vulgar dealings, and the en famille hero will be weary and whining and weak, reminding her of all those dumb boys she knew as a child, selfish, full of fat and vanity like patrons waiting to be served and humored, admired and not observed. 'Is the occasional orgasm sufficient compensation? Is it the prize of pure surrender, what’s gained from all that giving up? There’ll be silk stockings and velvet sofas maybe, the customary caviar, tasting at first of frog water but later of money and the secretions of sex, then divine champagne, the supreme soda, and rubber-tired rides through the Bois de Boulogne; perhaps there’ll be rich ugly friends, ritzy at homes, a few young men with whom one may flirt, a homosexual confidant with long fingers, soft skin, and a beautiful cravat, perfumes and powders of an unimaginable subtlety with which to dust and wet the body, many deep baths, bonbons filled with sweet liqueurs, a procession of mildly salacious and sentimental books by Paul de Kock and company—good heavens, what’s the problem?—new uses for the limbs, a tantalizing glimpse of the abyss, the latest sins, envy certainly, a little spite, jealousy like a vaginal itch, and perfect boredom. 'And the mirror, like justice, is your aid but never your friend.' -- From "Three Photos of Colette," The World Within the Word, reprinted from NYRB April 1977
William H. Gass (The World Within the Word)
Ask for the grace to let God continue to sculpt or paint me in different images. Those images (good & bad) make up a collection that becomes a masterpiece. When I am finished and framed, I will be hung on heaven’s walls.
Melissa Regas (Sketches of a Disabled Princess)
Once an artist painted on a huge canvas - the skies; The sun, the landscapes and everything that was nice. To complete the masterpiece into the frame He came- And that is how, You, I and all life on earth became. The same God that performed this miraculous feat, One can reach by closing eyes and feeling his heart beat.
Sushrut A. Badhe
It’s not enough to be the best. You also have to be seen by the most. A masterpiece painting hanging in the storage unit of the artist who painted it is not art—it’s irrelevant. It’s also a tragedy.
Jarod Kintz (A Zebra is the Piano of the Animal Kingdom)
Every great idea has a spark of inspiration. Divine…if the shoe fits. Every great spark of inspiration comes from a remarkably intense passion, love, or desire. It can be out of love for God, a family member, a lover, child, friend, or just out of a desire to be compassionate and help others. It can be an intense passion for music, art, physical comforts, or beauty. It can be from the desire to prove those who hurt, wrong, or doubt them wrong because they themselves are not yet capable of asking questions and chasing dreams which seem so far away. The paradox of any genius or creative virtuoso is that they see one plus one does not equal two and they do not consult the mathematicians to hear what they have to say about this. When the idea or project they desire to create is fueled from a combination of these previously mentioned factors and then ignited by a pure intention of their heart and soul it is more than the sum of its’ parts. It is no longer a song composed of a melody and words or a picture brushed with paint upon an easel. It is a masterpiece with an explanation which can only be hinted or pointed at. Just like the moon can only reflect the light passed on to it by the sun. Personally, a master watch maker is a person I look up to. They lovingly and thoughtfully put immense energy and concentration on putting seemingly small pieces into place that once put into place learn to work on their own in perfect synchronization and harmony. However, this working together of gears and pieces does not happen by itself; It happens because the master had a vision of what he wanted and put in the time, energy, love, and effort to make it happen. The designer didn’t have it materialize right in front of their face instantly. Rather, they had faith it would come together a piece at a time. It’s my mission to find as many of these Masters who don’t run away from their ability to love, be loved, and create. The more we present beauty to those around us, the quicker others will find light within themselves. The more assistance we give to those we know struggling with poverty both inside and externally, the quicker we change this world into what it’s meant to be.
Brad TruuHeart Schonor
That we do not simply shrug and move on when we learn of a lost masterpiece is a testament to the love felt for art, the sense that it is greater than ourselves, whether we are driven to protect its cultural importance or its beauty. People have died trying to defend or recover art . . . There is madness to this, perhaps, but one that may have been present for as long as art has played a role in human lives - since our ancestors braving the dark of the deepest caves to paint images on cold stone walls.
Noah Charney (The Museum of Lost Art)
She told herself that to have something of worth in a world full of chaos was the very definition of beauty. It felt like a spiritual liberation that couldn't be silenced. These prisoners, the ones who painted or wrote poetry or played in the orchestra -- they refused to let that spirit die. And this, she decided, is why the heart creates.
Kristy Cambron (The Butterfly and the Violin (Hidden Masterpiece, #1))
Ordinary people waited till life disclosed to them its secrets, but to the few, to the elect, the mysteries of life were revealed before the veil was drawn away. Sometimes this was the effect of art, and chiefly of the art of literature, which dealt immediately with the passions and the intellect. But now and then a complex personality took the place and assumed the office of art; was indeed, in its way, a real work of art, Life having its elaborate masterpieces, just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting.
Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray)
What is art, after all, if not simply giving out what you have inside you? Didn't it all boil down to sticking a female in front of you and painting her as you feel she is? - page35
Émile Zola (The Masterpiece)
I knew more things in the first ten years of my life than I believe I have known at any time since. I knew everything there was to know about our house for a start. I knew what was written on the undersides of tables and what the view was like from the tops of bookcases and wardrobes. I knew what was to be found at the back of every closet, which beds had the most dust balls beneath them, which ceilings the most interesting stains, where exactly the patterns in wallpaper repeated. I knew how to cross every room in the house without touching the floor, where my father kept his spare change and how much you could safely take without his noticing (one-seventh of the quarters, one-fifth of the nickels and dimes, as many of the pennies as you could carry). I knew how to relax in an armchair in more than one hundred positions and on the floor in approximately seventy- five more. I knew what the world looked like when viewed through a Jell-O lens. I knew how things tasted—damp washcloths, pencil ferrules, coins and buttons, almost anything made of plastic that was smaller than, say, a clock radio, mucus of every variety of course—in a way that I have more or less forgotten now. I knew and could take you at once to any illustration of naked women anywhere in our house, from a Rubens painting of fleshy chubbos in Masterpieces of World Painting to a cartoon by Peter Arno in the latest issue of The New Yorker to my father’s small private library of girlie magazines in a secret place known only to him, me, and 111 of my closest friends in his bedroom.
Bill Bryson (The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid)
Some people believe that it was while studying the niceties of British and American spelling that the Norwegian artist Edvard Munch painted his masterpiece, ‘The Scream’.
Gyles Brandreth (Have You Eaten Grandma?)
sit well with Michelangelo. The project seemed like a series of insurmountable challenges: •​It would be the largest fresco on earth—there would be more than twelve thousand square feet to cover. •​He had never frescoed before. •​His competition would be staring him in the face every day—the Moses and Jesus wall panels, world-class masterpieces created by the top fresco artists in the world—including his own first maestro, Ghirlandaio. When and if he ever finished the ceiling, his beginner’s work would be compared with these. •​The chapel was in constant use, more than twenty times per month. The scaffolding could not be of the traditional kind, which would require too much wood and thus block up the chapel and render it unusable for years. •​The pope’s rigid and unimaginative concept for the ceiling stood against everything Michelangelo believed in, both as a spiritual seeker and as an artist. •​The pope’s advisers would be trying to catch him at any changes or “heresies” that he might insert in the work. •​The pope and Bramante had given him a large number of Roman assistants to help with the plaster and paint—but Michelangelo knew very well that their other job would be to spy on his work.
Benjamin Blech (The Sistine Secrets: Michelangelo's Forbidden Messages in the Heart of the Vatican)
Even some of his commissions that were completed, or almost so—Ginevra de’ Benci and the Mona Lisa, for example—were never delivered to clients. Leonardo clung to his favorite works, carried them with him when he moved, and returned to them when he had new ideas. He certainly did that with the Saint Jerome, and he may have planned to do the same with the Adoration of the Magi, which he entrusted to Ginevra’s brother for safekeeping but never sold or gave away. He did not like to let go. That is why he would die with some of his masterpieces still near his bedside. As frustrating as it is to us today, there was a poignant and inspiring aspect to Leonardo’s unwillingness to declare a painting done and relinquish it: he knew that there was always more he might learn, new techniques he might master, and further inspirations that might strike him. And he was right.
Walter Isaacson (Leonardo Da Vinci)
Extremely sexy You are juicy, sweet as the most juicy sweet fruit, extremely sexy girl. Touching on your burning fire with passion of skin, such sugar sweet, colorful, sensual and picturesque. I have amazing feelings, considering your divinely beautiful skin color. Juicy, sweet, dark skin. Exquisitely beautiful golden glitter dark skin of sweet appearance. Maximum juicy skin color. Increased level of sexuality. Turbo is sexy, hipper juicy, too hot. Over the burning hot well well, just shhhh, well just an Auch., I Squeeze my lips, and tongue protrudes with admiration and horny. It sounds so tender and beautiful. Sensually tender chocolate skin, sweet temptation of sincere love sweet juicy candy in the universe. From you the libido rises sharply and there is a powerful energy of excitement and love and take-off of light feelings and some emotions of admiration. Your skin is like a jewel, shimmers with bright seductive shades of temptation - this is a masterpiece of painting, sculptural perfection of body shapes. You have a particularly unique rare skin color - the color of the strongest temptation. Every movement and gesture of your body seduces and hypnotically falls in love so erotically and beautifully, especially your eyes the color of black agate. You are my only cure for all ailments. All you want is my heart and soul, you are my highest dream in the universe. Aggressively craving sex only with you, to be an eternal part of you and the continuation of your soul and heart. My love for you is a very beautiful erotic of love feelings. I feel only you alone, while everything else seems dead and alien. Your skin color is a gentle fire of love and sex. You ignite me with your powerful energy of love and my love grows and thrives becomes deeper and soars upward like a bird my soul dreams of you since childhood my sweetest dreams are your thoughts. My brain breaks from love for you, you are so beautiful, hypper is sweet and sweet that I am afraid to get diabetes by kissing you. You are the most ingenious thought of the millennium and the very eternity created by the universe, there are no geniuses of the gene chain simply, you cannot imagine something more beautiful than you are human and the divine mind is simply not capable. Sex with you is the highest level of spiritual enjoyment in the universe. Your kisses lead you to a world far above heaven. You are stunningly gorgeous, I will love and want you forever and forever and dream of you every second imagining that you are near. After all, you are sweeter than honey and chocolate and nicer than a billion puppies and kittens. Your beauty is prosaic poetry long in eternity. I am drawn to you every second for days, I count the minutes when I can finally see you being in constant thoughts about you, in my thoughts I see nothing but you. And often I see you in my romantic dreams. Your obsession is only increasing every day. You're too juicy. I would kiss your body for a day, and thank God every day for giving you. I'm Following you, I'm ready to go forever. The sun and moon illuminate you so beautifully like an angel from higher heavens. So prosaically exposing your beauty and love affair with you - this is the true beauty and the highest value of eternity.
Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Meow bimbo I give you the crown of Miss eternity, on it is written Miss past, present and future. Molecular genetic perfection, the highest masterpiece of the universe, enchanting entailing up to the bed, the highest beauty before marriage. You manipulate my penis like a lever to control the speed of love and arousal, you turn on the speed of light, and now you are above the speed of light, time stands still, and we have an eternity of pleasure that lasts with you like one happy moment. Cute, white kitty, I adore your sexy appearance in one word: meow, that is, wow, wow, auch, juicy bimbo babe, so hot, I am just in touch with delight, I am just knocked out of your beauty. Your charm and charisma as arousing spirits. You fall in love with yourself until the orgasm, and so on and on. I can not stop dreaming about you, it seems to me that I can never stop it, you are the goddess of my regular erotic dreams and super sexual fantasies, the queen of my subconscious, the sovereign of my consciousness, the queen of the unconscious, the mistress of my heart. Sometimes I die from an overdose of love and one and only your phrase: I love you, as a powerful deflebillator takes me back from the emptiness of loneliness. Wow) wow) easy girl, your appearance looks a little too much cool and sexy. Looking at you for a couple of minutes it seems that terabytes of porn and erotica and romantic films looked for a whole year, such an effect of love and excitement and horny in just a couple of minutes, that's how beautiful and exciting you are, hot the hottest blush on your skin, pale nipples like a pink marshmallow, yours moon skin color fascinates with its beauty - it is over powerful sexual magnetism. What you see in reality looking at you will not even dream about the best dream, in no dimension there is no such a beautiful girl like you, nothing can surpass your beauty. You are afraid of all competitors around the world, even aliens will envy and even goddesses. When I saw you for the first time, I realized that I always wanted someone like you. Only when you are not next to me, in my memories, I will feel you forever and the most depressing and sad melodies will voice it. Your blue eyes are like the many thousands of sun shine on the surface of the ocean in the light. It glows with a magic radiance of happiness, white skin, as if it still glows with a shine of superiority. Goddess, smeared with body oil, slippery, hot, sweet skin, your body glows with amazing beauty of temptation. This is an art museum, everywhere your picturesque portraits and drawings and painting and sculpture, as well as films and music dedicated to you, everywhere you are in my inner world, all I see in this museum is you, this is truly supreme art, my soul is ready to sing opera arias about love for you, in order to become your boyfriend, you need to take a ticket behind me, a huge queue, and even the scoreboard has alert coupons, your relevance does not know the end or the edge, that's how beautiful you are.
Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Words have no owners. Silently they float disguised as thoughts waiting for a home, then if they find a receptive mind they grow, becoming a painting of so many colours that once put together correctly they become a masterpiece that brings joy to all. © 2019 Daniel Kemp All rights reserved
Daniel Kemp
Even the Sistine Chapel. Alone under Michelangelo’s ceiling, I was able to wallow in my disbelief. I read in my guidebook that Michelangelo was miserable while painting his masterpiece. His back and neck ached. Paint fell constantly into his hair and eyes. He couldn’t wait to be finished, he told friends. If even Michelangelo didn’t like his work, I thought, what hope is there for the rest of us?
Phil Knight (Shoe Dog)
Sweet candy You are my life meaning, only you are forever beautiful in my eyes, you are like the utopian harmony of the universe, being your husband is like going to heaven. When nature created you, she was idealized, poetic, exaggeratedly embellished even the smallest details of your beautiful body. Your skin is a masterpiece of painting, the voice is a masterpiece of music, the shape of a body is a masterpiece of sculpture, the eyes and character are the masterpiece of a romantic movie. Oh baby, you're just a piquant sweetheart, you too much juicy and hot, savory relish, aesthetic nude, nu erotica, pin up, you have the perfect body, brought to absolute perfection. You are my powerful pull, the limit of my dreams, my most sexy, desirable dream. I would insatiably lick, kiss and caress like ice cream all day long, my skin glows like a juicy cream, give a body massage with my kisses and thank fate for every second I spent with you. I feel for you a powerful attraction and attraction for 1000% of you I can think and dream day and night to fly. When I see you nothing but true love I do not feel, you can look at you forever, you are my heaven on earth, my whole mind is focused only on you. Your sweet body shapes, powerful lures, my sweet sweetie. Each microparticle, atom, molecule of your body, a brilliant masterpiece of the universe, time, nature, is brilliantly beautiful, as detailed as possible, everything decorates you literally everything. The highest form of beauty in its true form. A majestic ideal, a completed masterpiece. You have a special energy of charisma and charm. The skin is like thousands of rose petals, kisses burn the soul with the heat of lust, you are the warm light of tenderness illuminating my soul, so the rich shades of your juicy skin shimmer so picturesquely.
Musin Almat Zhumabekovich
Enjoy what you have, cherish the good times and savour everything life presents you. We can’t change the past… However, the future is a blank canvas, waiting for the paint, go create a masterpiece.
The Hypnotherapy Guy
Humans can't be boiled down to a label or a one-word answer, so good or evil are not enough. We have likes and dislikes, hobbies and passions, love and hatred, some of which are good, others are evil, and still others are somewhere in between. The world isn't black and white, it's glorious bursting color, and we all have a palette with which to paint a masterpiece.
Trevor Parece (Matter Control (The Mind Over Matter Series #1))
Painting a masterpiece was also destroying a canvas, sculpting was wrecking a good rock, drawing dulling a good pencil forever.
Michael Christie (If I Fall, If I Die)
Poetry is painting with words where you create a masterpiece by spilling your feelings and emotions onto the blank paper.
Avijeet Das
as those old engravings of the ‘Cenacolo,’ or that painting by Gentile Bellini, in which one sees, in a state in which they no longer exist, the masterpiece of Leonardo and the portico of Saint Mark’s. We
Marcel Proust (In Search of Lost Time [volumes 1 to 7])
Edward Radcliffe was engaged to be married to Miss Frances Brown, the daughter of a Sheffield factory owner; however, when she was killed tragically during a robbery, at the tender age of twenty, he withdrew from public life. Rumors abound that Radcliffe was working on a masterpiece at the time; but, if so, neither the painting, nor any bona fide preliminary work, has ever seen the light of day. Radcliffe drowned off the coast of southern Portugal in 1881, but his body was returned to England for burial. Although his artistic output was not as prodigious as it might have been, Radcliffe remains an important figure in mid-nineteenth-century art for his role as a founding member of the Magenta Brotherhood.
Kate Morton (The Clockmaker's Daughter)
I’ve become like one of those people I hate, the sort who go to the museum and, instead of looking at the magnificent Brueghel, take a picture of it, reducing it from art to proof. It’s not “Look what Brueghel did, painted this masterpiece” but “Look what I did, went to Rotterdam and stood in front of a Brueghel painting!
David Sedaris (Let's Explore Diabetes With Owls)
Your life is an empty page waiting to be written, an untouched canvas, so go paint your masterpiece, with a palette of kindness
Spencer Sekyer (Saving Manno: What a Baby Chimp Taught Me About Making the World a Better Place)
5 learning and creative things that kids can do in TAS Art Classes NYC Summer art classes give a young mind a new creative perspective. Art classes are usually organized in small batches where individual attention is given to all learners to understand their interests, innovations and offer a personalized experience. It is a crucial phase in a child’s life where they learn different skills, socialize and groom their overall personalities. TAS Art classes NYC offers art, painting, drawing, cartoon making and sculpting courses in New York to enhance the creative skills of the kids, Importance of art classes NYC Art courses is a good recreation to make new friends with similar interests. Extra co-curricular activities give the scope to go out for physical activities rather than wasting time watching television or playing video games. The culture is very different from the school learning environment and offers a safe and fun way towards extracurricular development. The student builds confidence and prepares themselves to face life challenges. Explore your child’s hobbies at Art Classes NYC There are many creative things students can do at TAS Art classes NYC like: 1. Art and craft Art and craft allow learner’s hand on materials like paper, popsicles, wool, cardboard, clay etc. which helps to upgrade their creative skills and visualization. Students have fun in fall art classes as their imagination runs wild to produce interesting designs, homemade cards, and paintings. 2. Sculptures Sculpting is an interesting drawing class for beginners. Different materials like POP and polymer clay is used to sculpt carve and create beautiful shapes. Sculpting classes are as fun as they are messy and is very good exercise to shape the creative thoughts of young minds. 3. Oil painting Oil painting classes involve several DIY kits for students of different age groups. They can have fun with different colors like acrylic, oil paints, watercolors etc. while learning how to paint in their oil painting lessons. It is more about having fun and also learning about the different masterpieces from famous artists. 4. Cartoons Cartoon making is very interesting as your imagination comes to life. A student might visualize a true friend in some imagination cartoon, and by drawing it helps the parents and teachers to better understand the mindset and understanding of the student. Cartoons can be colorful, funky and fun to play with. 5. Drawing A student can start very young age to sit and sketch. With proper drawing courses, the student can achieve skills of talented painter and will be able to exhibit his work locally. Art & Crafts classes NYC offers a lot of scopes to participate, learn, develop and grow. Art classes for teens give them a platform to present their skills and make them more refined and sharp with proper training. Art classes for adults are more therapeutical but definitely, it also involves great learning and experience. Benefits of Art Classes NYC Art Workshops promote various social, moral, creative and academic skills for students. If you want your child to do well in life both personally and professionally, drawing lessons can be a great way to learn, create something new and have fun at the same time. Our Art classes help to reduce stress and enhance competence. Students learn patience, self-discipline, goal setting, and decision making and working in a team. Definitely, the classes act as a protective measure against unhealthy lifestyle and activities and help to develop creative thinking skills, expand the social circle, meet new people, and keep one’s mind healthy and happy.
Theory of Art & Sciences
Our gardens are decorated with statues and our galleries with paintings. What do you think these artistic masterpieces on show for public admiration represent? The defenders of our country? Or those even greater men who have enriched it with their virtues? No. They are images of all the errors of the heart and mind, carefully derived from ancient mythology, and presented to our children's curiosity at a young age, no doubt so that they may have right before their eyes models of bad actions even before they know how to read.
Jean Jacque Rousseau
There was once an artistically talented teenager who felt unrequited love for a girl in his art class. It so happened that his beloved’s artwork was particularly bad, so bad, in fact, that it was often quietly mocked. One day the boy overheard two classmates laughing about how bad her artwork was. But just then she entered the room, and they quickly changed the subject. After a couple of minutes, the two classmates started playing a cruel game where they praised her for her artistic abilities. She protested, but the classmates kept insisting that she had real talent and should think about exhibiting something in the end-of-year art show. A week later she pulled the lovelorn boy to one side and asked for some advice about a painting. He jumped at the chance to talk with her, and while the work was terrible, he praised it profusely. To his horror, the praise he lavished on it convinced her to enter the painting in the school art exhibition. Because of his love, he didn’t want her to be humiliated, so the day before the show he went into the room holding all the submissions and stole her painting along with a couple of others. Once the theft was discovered, the art teacher quickly worked out who was guilty and pulled the boy out of class. Before suspending him, the teacher asked why he’d stolen the paintings. “That’s easy,” replied the boy. “I wanted to win the prize and so stole the best work.” News quickly spread around the school that the girl had created a masterpiece that might have won the prize if allowed to compete.
Peter Rollins (The Divine Magician: The Disappearance of Religion and the Discovery of Faith)
You are an artist and your masterpiece is your life. Your world is the canvas. Your desires and ideas are the sketches. Your thoughts, words, and attitudes are the paint. Your body is the brush. Your actions are the strokes. Your beliefs are the skills you use to apply the paint. Your faith and gratitude determine how extraordinary your work of art is.
Jen Sincero (You Are a Badass Every Day: How to Keep Your Motivation Strong, Your Vibe High, and Your Quest for Transformation Unstoppable)
Sometimes the breaking of things is cruel, and sometimes it is necessary, and sometimes it is just an accident." "My mother was a painting in the storm, convinced down to the last fibers of canvas and the last drop of paint on the brush that the rain was an important part of the making of a masterpiece.
Elizabeth Musser
That was something. Ordinary people waited till life disclosed to them its secrets, but to the few, to the elect, the mysteries of life were revealed before the veil was drawn away. Sometimes this was the effect of art, and chiefly of the art of literature, which dealt immediately with the passions and the intellect. But now and then a complex personality took the place and assumed the office of art, was indeed, in its way, a real work of art, life having its elaborate masterpieces, just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting.
Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray)
Try to grasp the essence of what the great artists, the serious masters, say in their masterpieces, and you will again find God in them. One man has written or said it in a book, another in a painting. Just read the Bible and the Gospel, that will start you thinking, thinking about many things, thinking about everything, well then, think about many things, think about everything, that will lift your thoughts above the humdrum despite yourself. We know how to read, so let us read!
Vincent van Gogh
We took turns trying on a grand peacock feather masterpiece, which Kathe posed with rather dramatically, and a gold filigree sun mask that spread rays far enough that I feared I’d spear innocent bystanders every time I turned my head. A silk-lined mask of cunningly detailed papier-mâché caught my eye, with deep, rich shades of lagoon green and ocean blue around the eyes. It swept to one side in a shape like a wave, with delicately curled spray tipped in gold. The jewel-hued paint had depth and complexity to it, like the sea itself, and as I held it in my hands I picked out shapes of clouds and ships and faces, holding each briefly in my mind like a dream before it merged back into abstract washes of swirling color. From a distance, the mask would not impress as the others might, but up close, it was gorgeous. “Try it on,” Kathe suggested, and I held it up to my face. It fit comfortably enough, flexing to accommodate my features rather than forcing them into its own shape. “What do you think?” I asked. “It’s beautiful.” Kathe laid a gentle hand along my chin, tilting my face toward the light; the warmth of his touch spread through my whole body. “But does it pass the most important test?” “Only one way to tell,” I whispered, sliding my hand around the back of his neck and up into that down-soft hair as I pulled him toward me. Our lips met, slow and soft and teasing, the barest brush like falling snow. A sliver of air slipped between us, enough to take a sharp breath as lightning seemed to slide down my throat and into my belly. I’d closed my eyes, but I felt his mouth shape a smile. “Better try another angle to be sure,” I murmured. I tipped my head slightly and tried for another quick, light kiss. But somehow it turned warm and melting, and lingered longer than I’d intended. And then there was a rustle of feathers, and his arms went around me, and my own hands slid up beneath his cloak to feel the wiry muscles of his back through the soft leather of his tunic. “I think this one is good,” Kathe said when we came up for air, a husky catch in his voice.
Melissa Caruso (The Unbound Empire (Swords and Fire #3))
Let's explore the art of kissing Each masterpiece perfect and new I adore the art of kissing When my lips are painting you
Jonathan Kump (In Love With Being In Love)
I'd insist that we all out same canvases and paint together. You might not want to, but I'd assure you that we needn't be so worried about painting masterpieces. People are the masterpieces, and you are creative because you are God's best creation and HI fingerprints and brush strokes dance all inside of you. Then I'd hold up my written rules for paintbrush holders. Everyone must try. Give yourself permission to not be perfect. Refuse to be intimidated by the process. The most beauty will emerge from the paintbrushes held by those who are most free from fear. Smile. I already love what will soon come to life on your canvas. Then we'd paint. And you'd discover you actually like it. Your piece would turn out amazing, and together we'd think through the perfect place for you to hang it up in your house... We are slowly coming out of hiding. It feels good to be vulnerable with artwork and with each other.
Lysa TerKeurst (It's Not Supposed to Be This Way: Finding Unexpected Strength When Disappointments Leave You Shattered)
the walls were decorated with more of the beautiful watercolor paintings I’d seen outside. Aside from staggeringly lovely masterpieces from an unknown genius,
Rachel Aaron (Part-Time Gods (DFZ, #2))
There are no perfect circumstances, just circumstances that can become 'perfect' because you choose to act upon a platform. Trusting that the first brush stroke is one closer to the finished painting. You can alter as you work. But you must take that first step, regardless of how good the shoes are - that first step forward is one closer to the finish line that you’re dreaming up. OR: There is a set of circumstances viewed by the perfectionist as imperfect, leading to hindrance. The shoes aren’t right for the race so they hesitate. Know this, you are the alchemist. You have the capacity to turn any situation into your personal victory, into gold, if you choose. What do you want to sculpt? It’s clay, it’s not meant to be perfect but your touch can turn it into a masterpiece.
Nicole Bonomi
contact with other Christians she’d often heard them mention grace. She was beginning to understand what the word meant now. Because of Jesus’ love-gift at Golgotha, God painted over her sins and shortcomings, all her hang-ups and selfishness with His abundant grace. Whenever God looked at her now, He saw a masterpiece. Annie liked that image--God as a master artist. A grace painter.
Mark Romang (The Grace Painter)
By comparison with such lives, our days were inconsequential indeed, and yet even though our canvas was small, still we could paint a masterpiece—as long as we were content for it to be a miniature.
Alexander McCall Smith (A Conspiracy of Friends (Corduroy Mansions, #3))
Mac picked up a small saw and began cutting. The pathologist made a whimpering sound, like an artist who’d just seen someone take a can of spray paint to his masterpiece. “Yep,” Mac said, holding up something small and bloody in his hands. “A transmitter.
Bob Mayer (Time Patrol (Area 51: The Nightstalkers, #4))
I’ve always thought of God as the only first-rate artist. There’s so much that’s miraculous about us—the way three tiny bones in our ears can process sound waves, for instance; and around us his perfect hand has painted the greatest masterpiece, the ecology of nature with its balance and precision, the way it can juxtapose competing forces into something harmonious. Stop and look sometime at the beauty of a weeping willow—I can go on and on
James Calvin Schaap (Finding Christmas: Stories of Startling Joy and Perfect Peace)
life having its elaborate masterpieces, just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting.
Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray)
Painting. Art. This was her specialty, what she loved and understood and what could so easily entrap her in a world of expression. Without hesitation she commenced her exploration of color, leaving behind every thought and emotion unconnected to the work in front of her. Reds, oranges, blues, purples, greens - a rainbow of hues came together in swirls and precision, creating a masterpiece fit to represent an art event.
Connie L. Smith (Essenced (The Division Chronicles #1))
INSIDE OF MY KISS   Drawing my fingers and hands down from the lower portion of her neck passed her stomach I kiss her once more. Gradually guiding her hands down my chest with our fingers partly intertwined I drag them all the way down in an oily residue that slides like warm agave. I watch as her eyes soften, her mouth becoming the place for my lips to escape to. Little spatters of paint graze our legs and feet as she desperately tries to find refuge inside of my kiss, our bodies soon becoming one. Naked and partially covered in paint we move across the floor over a large piece of canvas that captures every stir and motion. As paint and sweat smear across this surface giving memory to our intense romance an organic and spontaneous masterpiece is made. Again I surrender myself inside of her breathtaking kiss that warms me. Smudged into this colorful muck our love is made once again and to a tune that never grows tired. Here in this place where time stands still there is nothing that can take the place of this bond and this passion that continues to become more with each kiss. Taken by the instinctive beauty of solicitude we now lead each other in poetic faith. Inside the splendor of each breath and each kiss do we make all that there is to make, our love only intensifying within each passing moment.
Luccini Shurod
Some of us live in the future, Connected to hurts from our past, If tomorrow is colored by bitter regret, Then today has been painted black Some of us live in the present Connected to gifts from our past, If tomorrow is colored by purposeful thought, the today's masterpiece has been cast.
J.A. Conner
Her flat looked like a mess –a coloring mess. Once you enter it, you can feel like a person had eaten all the colors and paints and brushes in the whole world and threw up there. But somehow when you enter it, you wouldn’t feel the urge to throw up, actually, the colors mixed with furniture too well, the masterpieces were drawn perfectly that you feel like you are standing in an art museum.
Basma Salem (The Art Of Black)
Make it large', life is a canvas. You can paint it to be 'a dot' or masterpiece it to be 'the universe
Ajit Panicker
God has given you free will to make your life your own, but when you’re on a good path, you’ll know it in your soul. When I became an adult, I filled my life with a lot of love and laughter--I married a wonderful man, had beautiful kids, spent time with friends and family, and got a good job that paid the bills. These are all the things you think, and are told, will fulfill you. And don’t get me wrong, they mean a lot. But it wasn’t until I accepted my gift that my soul felt complete. I was finally on the right path. God had given me the canvas, but it was up to me to paint a beautiful picture, and there was something missing in the landscape until I did the work that satisfied my soul. It’s like I’d painted the trees, hills, and sky, but left out the focal point. God’s given you a canvas too, and like me, you need to find what makes your picture a masterpiece.
Theresa Caputo (There's More to Life Than This: Healing Messages, Remarkable Stories, and Insight About the Other Side from the Long Island Medium)
The laws of physics are the canvas God laid down on which to paint his masterpiece.” Vittoria
Dan Brown (Angels & Demons (Robert Langdon, #1))
You'll find more emotions of words in those crumpled & rolled papers thrown in the dustbin than the edited script you jolted down last night in your folder. More splashes of paints lay scattered around your drawing paint-plate, the brushes equally messed up with their romance with the colours before the actual finishing of a fine portrait. Your draft box breathes more words than the real, grammatically -groomed post on your blog. The room smells more of the combined samples of vividly used tropical, musky, floral essences mixed in different ratios to get the exotic cologne at the end. Gist is spending that extra cent to obtain a perfect blend. That extra counts to the journey of a masterpiece which later finds itself an identity of an extra-ordinary creation. You're that 'extra' to me who glorifies my existence and makes me feel like a clone-sister of masterpiece or rather a mistress-piece!!! ❤ - Shonali Dey (Shon Alley)
Shonali Dey
I read in my guidebook that Michelangelo was miserable while painting his masterpiece. His back and neck ached. Paint fell constantly into his hair and eyes. He couldn’t wait to be finished, he told friends. If even Michelangelo didn’t like his work, I thought, what hope is there for the rest of us? I
Phil Knight (Shoe Dog)
both hands against the door. “Feet wider apart. That’s right. Like in the American movies.” Satisfied, Qazi patted the man down. “What, no gun? A GRU man without a gun …” Qazi carefully felt the man’s crotch and the arms above the wrists. “First humor and now this! The GRU will become a laughingstock. But of course there is a microphone.” Qazi lifted all the pens from the Russian’s shirt pocket and examined them, one by one. “It had better be here, Chekhov, or you will have to part with your buttons and your shoes.” It was in the third pen. “Now turn around and sit against the door.” The Russian’s face was covered with perspiration, his fleshy lips twisted in a sneer. “The shoes.” Qazi examined them carefully and tossed them back. “Now the coat.” This he scrutinized minutely. From the uppermost of the large three buttons on the front of the coat a very fine wire was just visible buried amid the thread that held the button on. Qazi sawed the button free with a small pocketknife, then dropped the pen and button down a commode. He tossed the coat back to Chekhov. “And the belt.” After a quick glance, Qazi handed it back. “Hurry, we have much to say to each other.” He unscrewed the silencer and replaced the pistol in his ankle holster. He opened the door as the Russian scrambled awkwardly to his feet. An hour later the two men were seated in the Sistine Chapel against the back wall, facing the altar and Michelangelo’s masterpiece The Last Judgment behind it. On the right the high windows admitted a subdued light. Qazi kept his eyes on the tourists examining the paintings on the ceiling and walls. “Is it in Rome, as General Simonov promised?” “Yes. But you must tell us why you want it.” “Is it genuine, or is it a masterpiece from an Aquarium print shop?” The Aquarium was the nickname for GRU headquarters in Moscow. The Russian’s lips curled, revealing yellow, impacted teeth. This was his smile. “We obtained it from Warrant Officer Walker.” “Ah, those Americans! One wonders just how long they knew about Walker’s activities.” The Russian raised his shoulders and lowered them. “Why do you want the document?” “El Hakim has not authorized me to reveal his reasons. Not that we don’t trust you. We value the goodwill of the Soviet Union most highly. And we intend to continue to cultivate that goodwill. But to reveal what you do not need to know is to take the risk that the Americans will learn of our plans through their activities against you.” “If you are implying they have penetrated—” “Chekhov, I am not implying anything. I am merely weighing risks. And I am being very forthright with you. No subterfuge. No evasion. Just the plain truth. Surely a professional like you can appreciate that?” “This document is very valuable.
Stephen Coonts (Final Flight (Jake Grafton #3))
The past is done. The future is a blank canvas. Work on creating a masterpiece. Only you who have the power to make your painting beautiful.
Suzy Kassem
They saw Schilling take it all in. But he had more to say and exploded. “Listen, to the money talk! I just want you to know that I wasn’t in it to prove I could paint. Sure I wanted the cash. But you know what it was really all about. I was sticking it to the collectors who are so puffed up they would die to get a masterpiece on the cheap. They’re begging to be deceived. They deserve what they get because they’re the biggest fakes of all. I may not be a culture hero. But they’re nothing more than pretentious snobs with terrible taste just begging to be cheated. I loved putting it to them.
T.L. Ashton (The Madonna Model)
A voice: "All right, the lighter. Burn, Gioconda, burn..." A silhouette advances, a flash... They lit the lighter and set Gioconda on fire. The flames painted Gioconda red. She laughed with a smile that came from her heart. Gioconda burned laughing... Art, Shmart, Masterpiece, Shmasterpiece, And so On, And So Forth, Immortality, Eternity- H-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-E-Y... "HERE ENDS MY TALE'S CONTENDING, THE REST IS LIES UNENDING..." THE END
Nâzım Hikmet Ran
Look at your life like a blank canvas and you're the artist, now go ahead and paint your masterpiece." Ray Mancini.
Ray Mancini
From time to time when she’d come into contact with other Christians she’d often heard them mention grace. She was beginning to understand what the word meant now. Because of Jesus’ love-gift at Golgotha, God painted over her sins and shortcomings, all her hang-ups and selfishness with His abundant grace. Whenever God looked at her now, He saw a masterpiece. Annie liked that image--God as a master artist. A grace painter.
Mark Romang (The Grace Painter)
IThe epiphany in this thought is that we simply cannot and do not create in isolation. As I paint my blank canvas others leave their mark on my masterpiece. Many have added colors and textures I knew not existed, greatly improving my creation..and yet...and yet... There are those who have punctured the fine leather and scraped at the rainbows of my mind ... creating stormy patches where there were once colors beaming from the page.
Bella Vespira
The epiphany in this thought is that we simply cannot and do not create in isolation. As I paint my blank canvas others leave their mark on my masterpiece. Many have added colors and textures I knew not existed, greatly improving my creation..and yet...and yet... There are those who have punctured the fine leather and scraped at the rainbows of my mind ... creating stormy patches where there were once colors beaming from the page.
Bella Vespira
The leaves of his albums were masterpieces. The colors! And the way in which they ranged across the page, each one a dab from the palette of a Turner. “They began, of course, with the black issues of 1840. But soon the black warms to brown, the brown to red, the red to orange, the orange to bright carmine; on to indigo, and Venetian red—a bright blossoming of color, as if to paint the bursting into bloom of the Empire itself. There’s glory for you!
Alan Bradley (The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie (Flavia de Luce, #1))
A wealthy man and his son loved to collect works of art. They had in their collection works ranging from Picasso to Raphael and Rembrandt. When the Vietnam War broke out, the son was drafted and sent to fight in ’Nam. He was very courageous and died in battle. The father was notified and grieved deeply for his only son. About a month later, a young lad appeared at the door to his house and said, “Sir, you don’t know me, but I am the soldier for whom your son gave his life that fateful day. He was carrying me to safety when a bullet struck him in the heart. He died instantly. He used to often talk about you and your love for art. Here’s something for you,” he added, holding out a package. “It is something that I drew. I know I am not much of an artist, but I wanted you to have this from me as a small measure of memory and thanks.” It was a portrait of his son, painted by the young man. It captured the personality of his son. The father’s eyes welled up with tears as he thanked the young man for the painting. He offered to pay for the picture, but the man replied, “Oh! No, sir. I could never repay what your son did for me. It is my gift to you.” The father hung the portrait over his mantel and showed it proudly to all his visitors along with all of the great works of art he possessed. Some time later, the old man died. As decreed in his will, his paintings were all to be auctioned. Many influential and rich people gathered together, excited over the prospect of owning one of the masterpieces. On a platform nearby also sat the painting of his son. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. “Let’s start the bidding with the picture of his son. Who will bid for this picture?” There was silence. A voice shouted from the back, “Let’s skip this one. We want the famous masters.” But the auctioneer persisted. “Ten dollars, twenty dollars, what do I hear?” Another voice came back angrily, “We didn’t come here for this. Let’s have the Picassos, the Matisses, the van Goghs.” Still the auctioneer persisted. “The son. Anyone for the son? Who’ll take the son?” Finally a quavering voice came from the back. It was the longtime gardener of the house. “I’ll take the son for ten dollars. I am sorry, but that’s all I have.” “Ten dollars once, ten dollars twice, anybody for twenty dollars? Sold for ten dollars.” “Now let’s get on with the auction,” said a wealthy art aficionado sitting in the front row. The auctioneer laid down his gavel and spoke. “I am sorry, but the auction is over.” “But what about the other paintings? The masters?” “The auction is over,” said the auctioneer. “I was asked to conduct the auction with a stipulation, a secret stipulation that said that only the painting of the son would be auctioned. Whoever bought that painting would inherit the entire estate, paintings and all. The one who took the son gets everything.
Ramesh Richard (Preparing Evangelistic Sermons: A Seven-Step Method for Preaching Salvation)
His bath chamber across the main room was all that remained, so I backtracked and entered it. The extravagance to which I was accustomed within the Hytanican palace did not range so far as to include the depth and size of his bath, nor the unusual mosaic tiles set into the floor. But what struck me the most were the shelves filled with ointments and bandages, and the long table against the wall that was similar to what one would find in a physician’s examination room. He had in many ways grown up a prince, but this chamber was more telling of his past than all the finery in his wardrobe. When I returned to the parlor, I felt strangely cold. Narian had once more taken up his place on the sofa, and I went to sit at his feet, wanting to be closer to the fire. He swung around and put one leg on each side of me, then started to massage my back. After a few minutes, he slipped down behind me to wrap his arms around my waist, and I leaned against him. He was warm and safe and all that I wanted. At times I felt that there was no world outside of him, and it was the best feeling I ever had. This was one of those times. “Were you ever happy here?” I softly inquired. “Yes,” he answered after a moment of thought. “I was--here in the temple.” Though I had not handled seeing Miranna’s room very well, I again had a surge of curiosity about the Overlord’s Hall, which Narian had subtly referenced. But I did not ask him to take me there--seeing it would not help me, and it would not help him. He needed to forget that place. “Then tell me something about your childhood. Something pleasant.” I closed my eyes, feeling the vibration of his chest as he began to speak. “I remember when that mural on my wall was painted. I was perhaps six or seven. The High Priestess commissioned an artist, and gave her freedom to paint something colorful and unique, something that would amuse me. I was permitted to watch, but at that age…” “Watching wasn’t enough,” I guessed, and he laughed. “The artist was on a ladder, and she had her palette with her, but she’d left the majority of her paints on the floor. I was into them before she could say a word, and I spread paint everywhere. In my hair, on my clothes, the floors, the wall where she was trying to create her masterpiece, everywhere.” He was reminiscing now instead of just telling me a story, seeing it unfold in his mind. “I’d forgotten, honestly forgotten, that I’d been told not to touch the paints. Nan was furious--we were supposed to go to a banquet that night and I’d--” “Nan?” I asked, and he tensed for a moment. “That’s what I used to call the High Priestess, when I was young.” Smiling at the idea, I nestled against him and said, “Go on.” He continued the story, and I listened contentedly, eventually falling asleep in his embrace.
Cayla Kluver (Sacrifice (Legacy, #3))
MT: Mimetic desire can only produce evil? RG: No, it can become bad if it stirs up rivalries but it isn't bad in itself, in fact it's very good, and, fortunately, people can no more give it up than they can give up food or sleep. It is to imitation that we owe not only our traditions, without which we would be helpless, but also, paradoxically, all the innovations about which so much is made today. Modern technology and science show this admirably. Study the history of the world economy and you'll see that since the nineteenth century all the countries that, at a given moment, seemed destined never to play anything but a subordinate role, for lack of “creativity,” because of their imitative or, as Montaigne would have said, their “apish” nature, always turned out later on to be more creative than their models. It began with Germany, which, in the nineteenth century, was thought to be at most capable of imitating the English, and this at the precise moment it surpassed them. It continued with the Americans in whom, for a long time, the Europeans saw mediocre gadget-makers who weren't theoretical or cerebral enough to take on a world leadership role. And it happened once more with the Japanese who, after World War II, were still seen as pathetic imitators of Western superiority. It's starting up again, it seems, with Korea, and soon, perhaps, it'll be the Chinese. All of these consecutive mistakes about the creative potential of imitation cannot be due to chance. To make an effective imitator, you have to openly admire the model you're imitating, you have to acknowledge your imitation. You have to explicitly recognize the superiority of those who succeed better than you and set about learning from them. If a businessman sees his competitor making money while he's losing money, he doesn't have time to reinvent his whole production process. He imitates his more fortunate rivals. In business, imitation remains possible today because mimetic vanity is less involved than in the arts, in literature, and in philosophy. In the most spiritual domains, the modern world rejects imitation in favor of originality at all costs. You should never say what others are saying, never paint what others are painting, never think what others are thinking, and so on. Since this is absolutely impossible, there soon emerges a negative imitation that sterilizes everything. Mimetic rivalry cannot flare up without becoming destructive in a great many ways. We can see it today in the so-called soft sciences (which fully deserve the name). More and more often they're obliged to turn their coats inside out and, with great fanfare, announce some new “epistemological rupture” that is supposed to revolutionize the field from top to bottom. This rage for originality has produced a few rare masterpieces and quite a few rather bizarre things in the style of Jacques Lacan's Écrits. Just a few years ago the mimetic escalation had become so insane that it drove everyone to make himself more incomprehensible than his peers. In American universities the imitation of those models has since produced some pretty comical results. But today that lemon has been squeezed completely dry. The principle of originality at all costs leads to paralysis. The more we celebrate “creative and enriching” innovations, the fewer of them there are. So-called postmodernism is even more sterile than modernism, and, as its name suggests, also totally dependent on it. For two thousand years the arts have been imitative, and it's only in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries that people started refusing to be mimetic. Why? Because we're more mimetic than ever. Rivalry plays a role such that we strive vainly to exorcise imitation. MT
René Girard (When These Things Begin: Conversations with Michel Treguer (Studies in Violence, Mimesis, & Culture))
Your dreams are ink; reality is the canvas; Paint masterpieces.
Matshona Dhliwayo
Some people write books, others paint masterpieces
Masterpieces from Brooklyn Museum
The universe is a masterpiece painted by love's masterstrokes.
Matshona Dhliwayo
Sending Mr. Macon a nod, Everett turned on his heel and strode down the hallway. Passing the curved staircase that was the centerpiece of the house, he was almost to the library when he noticed something that slowed his pace to a mere crawl. A priceless painting of a young lady—painted by none other than Bouguereau—seemed to have acquired a mustache placed inexpertly above the young lady’s lip. Leaning closer to the painting, he released a sigh when it quickly became evident that someone had, indeed, added his or her own touch to the masterpiece. Deciding that now was not the moment to spend dwelling on this particular situation, he tore his gaze from what was now a less-than-priceless painting and headed into the library.
Jen Turano (In Good Company (A Class of Their Own Book #2))
You are the artist of your life. Paint your masterpiece!
Pablo De Leon (LIMITLESS)
Becoming a better grownup is not about achieving more. Part of being a better grownup is letting people know they are enough—including yourself. It's realizing that every single day is another layer of fresh color on the masterpiece of a life you're painting. It's handing out trophies to let people know they've wowed you by simply being the best at who they are. Maybe it's even creating a trophy for yourself, holding it, and owning it.
Brad Montague (Becoming Better Grownups: Rediscovering What Matters and Remembering How to Fly)
God intends, in the end, to give us a new life, in comparison with which the present one is a mere thing of shadows. He intends to give us new life within his ultimate new creation. But the new creation has already begun with the resurrection of Jesus, and God wants us to wake up now, in the present time, to the new reality. We are to come through death and out the other side into a new sort of life; to become daytime people, even though the rest of the world isn’t yet awake. We are to live in the present darkness by the light of Christ, so that when the sun comes up at last we will be ready for it. Or, to change the image, we are already to be penciling the sketches for the masterpiece that God will one day call us to help him paint. That’s what it means to respond to the call of the Christian gospel.
N.T. Wright (Simply Christian: Why Christianity Makes Sense)
There’s an enigma among painters. Let’s say an artist studies and practices for twenty-five years of her life. Then she spends two hours painting a masterpiece. So did it take her two hours to create it? Or twenty-five years?
Skye Warren (The Evolution of Man (The Trust Fund Duet, #2))
Happiness was not the only virtue. After all, loneliness wrote great symphonies and could paint masterpieces. It was the imperfections and miseries that necessitated the magic.
Sarah C. Patten (The Measure of Gold)
Salvador Dali’s devastating Basket of Bread, the masterpiece that he painted just before being expelled from Madrid’s Academia
James Patterson (Tick Tock (Michael Bennett, #4))
How will I forget the memory that happened on the 29th of September 2017? Bunso woke up early that day and asked me if we could paint. Of course, I said yes! I guided his hand in doing soft strokes in creating his requested "fireworks". Then I had to turn off the stove because I was cooking breakfast. When I came back, he was giggling and showed me what he did. He wrote the words 'I LOVE YOU' all by himself and he told me that he wanted to decorate his masterpiece with hearts and stars. I could not control my tears. Tears of joy perhaps because for the very first time, he tried his best to show his love and affection for me through art which he could not express through words. A moment like that has shown me how much God loves me. I may be experiencing struggles, doing more sacrifice, and adjusting to the needs of Bunso like other moms who have kids with special needs. At the end of the day, I know that there is a reason why God has given me Bunso. Perhaps He knows that I can love him unconditionally. Yes, I can and I do truly. I am so glad that he loves me too beyond words can express.
Sharon Joyce S. Valdez (I Love You Because I Love You)