“Failure is unimportant. It takes courage to make a fool of yourself”
“You need power only when you want to do something harmful–
–otherwise; love is enough to get everything done.”
“To truly laugh, you must be able to take your pain and play with it!”
“You’ll never find a rainbow if you’re looking down.”
“What do you want meaning for? Life is desire, not meaning.”
“My pain may be the reason for somebody’s laugh, but my laugh must never be the reason for somebody’s pain.”
“You’ll find that life is still worthwhile, if you just smile.”
“A day without laughter is a day wasted.”
Several days ago I happened across a fantastic article titled “The 9 Warning Signs of an Amateur Artist“, by a certain ‘Skinny Artist‘.
After reading it, the thought occurred to me that you could essentially replace the word “Artist” with that of any passion. Give it a shot! — *poof*
Despite what you may have read the article is now “The 9 Warning Signs of an Amateur Japanese Student“, or perhaps, “The 9 Warning Signs of an Amateur Writer“. The point is that the content is applicable for any field, and although some of the advice within may come off as ‘tough love’, it’s a kick that’s well worth the read. Highly recommended.
I recently finished reading Grant Morrison’s “All-Star Superman“, and needless to say, I was completely blown away. Although the content of the comic isn’t what this post is about, I’d just like to say that if you consider yourself a fan of comics, graphic novels, superheros, geek-culture, hell – even if you don’t –– you owe it to yourself to check this one out.
No, the subject of this post is actually the author’s words in an interview over at <newsarama>.
NEWSARAMA: What, above all else, would you like people to take away from All Star Superman?
GRANT MORRISON: (…) What I hope is that people take from it the unlikelihood that a piece of paper, with little ink drawings of figures, with little written words, can make you cry, can make your heart soar, can make you scared, sad, or thrilled.
That piece of paper is inert material, the corpse of some tree, pulped and poured, then given new meaning and new life when the real hours and real emotions that the writer and the artist, the colourist, the letter the editor translated onto the physical page, meet with the real hours and emotions of a reader, of all readers at once, across time, generations and distance.