#drip

The world intrudes in my brain daily. Since my brain is dripping with all kinds of stuff that's out there in the world, that I can't seem to be able to shut out, it has to end up being in my work as well. ↗

— Eric Bogosian

#being #brain #daily #dripping #end

I come from Yorkshire in England where we like to eat chip sandwiches - white bread, butter, tomato ketchup and big fat french fries cooked in beef dripping. ↗

— Helen Fielding

#big #bread #butter #chip #come

The dripping... well, if it happens, it happens; it does not take anything from the work. The dripping just proves that you were not trying to control the work, but the work was developing by itself and if it drips, it's a natural part in the evolution of the work. ↗

— Keith Haring

#control #developing #does #dripping #evolution

Don’t you think it’s actually harder for you . . . to adapt, I mean? Because you’ve done all that stuff?’ ‘Are you asking me if I wish I'd never done it?’ ‘I’m just wondering if it would have been easier for you. If you’d led a smaller life. To live like this, I mean.’ ‘I will never, ever regret the things I've done. Because most days, if you’re stuck in one of these, all you have are the places n your memory that you can go to.’ He smiled. It was tight, as if it cost him. ‘So if you’re asking me would I rather be reminiscing about the view of the caste from the minimart, or that lovely row of shops down off the roundabout, then, no. My life was just fine, thanks. ↗

— Jojo Moyes

#paralysed #quadriplegic #regret #regrets #life

There's a constant drip and trickle of life that goes into one's awareness really and consciousness of things. ↗

— Mike Leigh

#consciousness #constant #drip #goes #into

But, on the other hand, the occasional and precarious dripping of coppers has by no means a genial effect. ↗

— James Payn

#effect #genial #hand #means #occasional

If we took Chaucer's writings at face value, we'd have to conclude he was a complete drip. ↗

— John Hutton

#complete #conclude #drip #face #face value

I turned in my seat. Will’s face was in shadow and I couldn’t quite make it out. ‘Just hold on. Just for a minute.’ ‘Are you all right?’ I found my gaze dropping towards his chair, afraid some part of him was pinched, or trapped, that I had got something wrong. ‘I’m fine. I just . . . ’ I could see his pale collar, his dark suit jacket a contrast against it. ‘I don’t want to go in just yet. I just want to sit and not have to think about . . . ’ He swallowed. Even in the half-dark it seemed effortful. ‘I just . . . want to be a man who has been to a concert with a girl in a red dress. Just for a few minutes more.’ I released the door handle. ‘Sure.’ I closed my eyes and lay my head against the headrest, and we sat there together for a while longer, two people lost in remembered music, half hidden in the shadow of a castle on a moonlit hill. ↗

— Jojo Moyes

#paralysed #quadriplegic #music

It was what became something of a pattern in the first couple of years of the Clinton White House and maybe even longer, where information would drip, drip, drip, drip, drip out which would keep stories alive, alive, alive. ↗

— Dee Dee Myers

#became #clinton #couple #drip #even

I still eat a burger at a counter with ketchup dripping down my face. ↗

— Scarlett Johansson

#counter #down #dripping #eat #face