Ziggy Stardust Quotes

Good grief," said Merlin. "You look like the bastard child of Dumbledore and David Bowie. No, sorry, Dumbledore and Ziggy Stardust.

Keep your 'lectric eye on me babe Put your ray gun to my head Press your space face close to mine, love Freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah! - Moonage Daydream

I’m not crazy for feeling this way. They’re crazy for trying to stop me. And if it’s the last time I ever get to feel joy again, I won’t let them have it.

At some point you have to stop and say ‘Enough. This is me.’ and fight for it as hard as you can.

for one moment in time, two lonely astronauts floating in space, finally find each other.

The things that scare you the most are the things that bring you closer to who you’re meant to be.

He looks at me. And smiles. "Just us remember?To the moon," he whispers.

Your imagination is your safe space, an escape pod to another dimension where you're free to be.

So each thought is like an invisible string, right? Grab one like this--' He acts like he's pulling a long string from his forehead. 'Then blow it in the wind and watch it float away. Keep doing that till your mind's clear.

If you just amass the courage that is necessary, you can completely reinvent yourself. You can be your own hero.

We sway and disappear in each other's arms, and "So Far Away" starts crooning through the speakers, and for one moment in time, two lonely astronauts floating in space finally find each other.

They got it all wrong. They think they’re doing good with their fight and their ignorance and discrimination and all that. But really, they’re killing the earth with it.

Hello? Testing? My name is Jonathan Collins. I am seventeen years old. Today is... some day in July 1993. And I am okay. Scratch that, I am more than okay. I am... I am... I AM.

How was a feeling be so bad if it makes me feel so good?

Squeak sq-squeak sq-squeak: fifty tennis shoes jumping and skipping against the waxed wood floor. Dodgeball. Perfect. It smells like the armpits of Satan in here.

People use words to hate each other too much. I don't want to be one of those people. I'll just talk to myself like I have been all these years anyways. It's safer that way...

Warm chairs. I don't know, like I'm sitting on someone's leftover germs.

Til there was Rock You only had God. - Sweet Head

All the knives seem to lacerate your brain I've had my share I'll help you with the pain - Rock and Roll Suicide

He takes my hand, traces some lines on my palms..."And maybe one day we won't have to come all the way up here to be safe, you know? Maybe one day we can stay...down here...you know?

…she had a dream, and in that dream Jesus came to her and said, ‘You are from the stars and you came here to heal the world,’ so she made her mom and dad change her name to Starla. I think it’s cosmically perfect, like her, and kind of fitting because her face is covered in a galaxy of freckles.

So Einstein says, "The universe is always conspiring for your greatest good," huh? If that were true, we wouldn't be living here. Not in this broken time, not in this broken city, not on this broken planet with my broken Ziggy cross pieces. No. We'd be on our caravel ride through the stars. Together.

Your eyes are so— I don't know— they do something weird to me..." "Yeah? Yours do something weird to me, too, Jonathan...

I mumble a youknowwhatever and shuffle my Chucks on the tiles. Whoa, first time I've really noticed them. Holy scuffed to hell.

There was a picture of Don Hector on the wall and next to the television was a phonograph with a large collection of cylinders. I looked through them. They were a mixture of old favourites – Dark Side of the Moon, Rumours, Ziggy Stardust – mixed with jazz and a little Puccini.

I can feel me again. And I fix what's been broken in me all along... I don't want to imagine hiding on the moon or being on some space adventure in the stars anymore. This is the world I want to live in. Right here. With him. Because for the first time in my life, being in Web's arms, I feel free.

The things that make you different are your superpowers.

like being able to see how I got from Deep Purple to Howlin’ Wolf in twenty-five moves; I am no longer pained by the memory of listening to “Sexual Healing” all the way through a period of enforced celibacy, or embarrassed by the reminder of forming a rock club at school, so that I and my fellow fifth-formers could get together and talk about Ziggy Stardust and Tommy.

This makes no sense. None of it does. But maybe that's the point. Maybe the things that make the least amount of sense are the things you're supposed to do. I don't know. - I look at him, looking back at me. - But one thing I know: I'm not crazy for feeling this way. They're crazy for trying to stop me. And if it's the last time I ever get to feel joy again, I won't let them have it.

Web" She nods again. "And how does that make you feel?" -How does that make me feel? Like I was living in the middle of Fourth of July fireworks. Like I was exploding with so much joy there would have never been a Vietnam War because my joy would have caused world peace.- "It's wrong, and I'm sick." That's what I say. Because anything else and I'll be carted off right here, right now.

I knew it. She can telepathically hear me. Can't you, Starla? Well, here's the truth: Web is the dreamiest dreamboat I've ever met, a whambamthankyouma'am sucker punch to my heart. And when he held my hand, I thought I'd burst into stardust right there. And when he looks in my eyes, I feel...safe. How can that be? How can a feeling that's so wrong feel so right, Starla? Huh? Help me, please.

Those who accuse these women of fraud in their image craft seem not to have heard of David Bowie's successful alter ego Ziggy Stardust or even Bob Dylan, the folksy creation of a genius named Robert Allen Zimmerman. There is a tradition of male artists taking on personae that are understood to be part of their art. It is as though there is so much genius within them that it must be split between these mortal men and the characters they create. Women who venture to do the same are ridiculed as fakers and try-hards.

Carole King sings on the radio. A white cop beams a light through the window. The little boy’s father is dragged out of the car.” He yells, punching the wind with his words. “Crunching. Beating. Screaming. ‘Shut the fuck up, Injun, go back to your land!’ ‘This is my land!’ ‘Don’t you talk back to us!’” Pools of sweat drip from his forehead. “More screaming. Crunching. Beating. The little boy crawls in the back seat, curls up, cries. The cops drive away. A huge dust cloud blows all around the father and son. The little boy opens the back door. He looks down. His father lies in a river of blood. His eyes, dilated. The little boy’s superhero was dead.

Then it happens. His image appears again, skipping and scraping through the guy testifying. Web. Torn and broken. A face I'd previously only seen in the mirror. No projected back to me, because of me. And still he's smiling. Glommeting like a starfolk. Of course I've thought about every possible way to go back. To sneak away, hide, and wait. To apologize, or have him spit on my face. But I can't. I can't wonder what he's doing right now. And right now. And right now. I can't taste his cherry-candy lips, feel his heart pounding in my mouth. I can't. And I can't turn off the light switch he's flipped on inside me, no matter how hard I try. And I have tried. Tried so hard. But I can't. I know I'm not supposed to feel this way and I hate myself for it, but...I can't stop thinking about him- A jolt zings my thighs. I wince, but try not to flinch. I have to learn to live with this, because... Secret: I know now I can never be fixed.

From strange alter-egos, to the occult concept of androgyny, and of course including references to Aleister Crowley and his Thelema, David Bowie did decades ago what pop stars are doing now. “Bowie’s alter-ego named Ziggy Stardust was a representation of the “illuminated man” who has reached the highest level of initiation: androgyny. There was also a lot of one eye things going on. Drawing the Kabbalistic Tree of Life The difference between Bowie and today’s pop stars is that he was rather open regarding the occult influence in his act and music. In a 1995 interview, Bowie stated: “My overriding interest was in cabbala and Crowleyism. That whole dark and rather fearsome never-world of the wrong side of the brain.” In his 1971 song Quicksand, Bowie sang: “I’m closer to the Golden Dawn Immersed in Crowley’s uniform of imagery” (Golden Dawn is the name of a Secret Society that had Crowley as member). These are only some examples of the occult influence on Bowie’s work and an entire book could be written on the subject. Since the main antagonist of Labyrinth is a sorcerer who also happens to enjoy singing impromptu pop songs, David Bowie was a perfect fit for the role.

By the time Natalie realized what Viola was doing, it was too late. She was a senior in high school, and nothing whatsoever about music made her happy. Music was something to win, to be first and best at. She snapped at her parents and was too proud to apologize. She shrank from Uncle Kevin because it was easier than admitting the truth. She listened to all of Hunky Dory, to Ziggy Stardust and Heroes, and tried to feel lovely and strange and weightless, but she couldn’t; she played the piano, she listened to music, and nothing stirred, nothing sang inside. Natalie was earthbound and ordinary, marooned, alone.

put it through a chain of compressors or use stems to alter the balance or change the sound in any other way. The engineer and the producer have a vision, they know what they want, and it’s up to the cutter (the mastering engineer) to stay as close to what they provided as possible.

Sometimes I don’t feel as if I’m a person at all. I’m just a collection of other people’s ideas,” David Bowie told an interviewer in 1972, the same year he scored pop superstardom with his iconic Ziggy Stardust persona. Twenty years later, Bowie confessed that while filling auditoriums with impassioned fans back then, “I had enormous self-image problems and very low self-esteem,