Steven Hyde Quotes

Although I respect the Judeo-Christian ethic, as well as the Eastern philosophies, and of course the teachings of Muhammad, I find that organized religion has corrupted those beliefs to justify countless atrocities throughout the ages. Were I to go to church, I'd be a hypocrite.

Beware of artists. They mix with all classes of society and are therefore the most dangerous.

The feeling of accomplishment is more real and satisfying than finishing a good meal or looking at one’s accumulated wealth.”[28]

art is—a sacrifice of one’s time, one’s lifetime, to make others feel something.

For art to truly affect us, it needs to be, in a sense, “given.

We intuitively reject art when the cost to make it is less than the cost to buy it.

Don’t let your day job take over your life simply because it has a more immediate payoff.

In many ways, Henson was a slave to his artistic gift—but to no one else. This is the ideal state for an artist.

You see, not all of Henson’s projects made money. The Muppet Movie did, but The Muppets Take Manhattan didn’t.

The Dark Crystal, released in 1982, is an artistic masterpiece, which Henson himself described as “a rich fruitcake, full of different ingredients, and every bite you discover something new and delicious.

The coexistence of these two sharply contrasting personalities within the same individual is as apparent in literature as in life: Dorian Gray, the handsome, witty, man-about-town, keeps his portrait hidden where no one can see it, for it bears all the features of his vicious secret life; Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde are the same man, by turns respectable physician and monstrous ogre; the popular TV personality with the compassionate manner and caring smile can be a hysterical termagant at home with her family.

Though it sounds vulgar, selling something that should be a gift is precisely what prostitution is.

try to picture yourself becoming more like this—like Sisyphus pushing a rock up a hill only to see it fall back down, knowing you will do this for eternity. Learn to work without hope of reward. That is, learn to push for the sake of pushing.

What ambitious story could you turn your life into? You can’t start over. You have to use only what’s in the toolbox—and make art out of it.

Play and experimentation loosens our grip on life and allows for more chance luck to surprise us.

Don’t listen to your friends who tell you they like leaving their work at work. They don’t have the same dream you do. They want the comfortable thing. You want the great thing.

Run, Steven. Run fast and far.

The Zombie Firetruck by Stewart Stafford Sirens moan, grave duty's flash of red, A mortuary whiff of something dead, Hoses trained with brains they suck, Your friendly neighbourhood zombie firetruck! All that remained of the human fire team, From the zombie pandemic of 2017, Still in their uniforms, their only treasures, Apocalyptic times call for end-time measures. When they reached the fire, people did scoff, They lurched, staggered, body parts fell off, As they wandered around, fire hoses forlorn, These knightly living dead faced a blazing dawn. The chief, hat off to his skeleton crew, In a voice once alive, now croaky like flu: 'To the hydrant, my ghouls, let's save Gothik Town, Or they'll call Ghostbusters, we'll be the clowns!' A glowering inferno, a cremation scene, Zombie firefighters, brave and light green. Through smoke and ash, they gravely stand, Composed decomposition with skeletal hand. Axeman Bony Ed led their clattering charge, Into the smoke, his cadavers did barge, The townsfolk looked on in dead of night, And disbelief, tiredness and mild fright. There soon followed medic Cemetery Phil, Decaying Murphy, Old Salty, and Dead Drill, Slab Stevens, Madly Hyde and Molly Voodoo, Determined to shake their initial hoodoo. A mother and baby backed by burning drapes, Team Macabre charged up the fire escape, Saving both and getting everyone out, Drank Brainer Ade as they leaked like a spout. Somehow, undead teamwork saved the day, No lives were lost as the water sprayed, Doused the flames, cool flatlined heroes, Much zombie kudos, no longer scary zeroes. The crowd cheered, did they ever doubt it? High fives lost hands but new ones sprouted, Frankenstein proud in their flapping flesh, Sure to get medals at the HalloweenFest. With a final groan and a clatter of bones, The zombie firetruck headed back home. Rotten yet proud, in their reanimated way, The risen would fight fires another day. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.

[Henson:] I didn’t call him a frog. [Interviewer:] Right, he was just Kermit the thing. [Henson:] Yeah, all the characters in those days were abstract because that was part of the principle I was working under.… I still like very much the abstract characters and some of those abstract characters I still feel are slightly more pure.