The planet you inhabit is a single plane of infinite dimensions, stretched like a guitar string, and standing before you like a concubine waiting for your command.

The planet you inhabit is a single plane of infinite dimensions, stretched like a guitar string, and standing before you like a concubine waiting for your command.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls
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Similar Quotes by thomas-lloyd-qualls

The planet you inhabit is a single plane of infinite dimensions, stretched like a guitar string, and standing before you like a concubine waiting for your command.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls, Waking Up at Rembrandt's
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The painter knew the mirror lied. And the canvas told the truth.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls, Waking Up at Rembrandt's
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To paint one must forget everything else. Where you live, who you know, what you eat, when to sleep. The landscape of the canvas becomes your only reality. The planet you inhabit is a single plane of infinite dimensions, stretched like a guitar string, and standing before you like a concubine waiting for your command.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls, Waking Up at Rembrandt's
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The painter folded back the heavy curtain, standing in the stream of light breaking through the damp thickness of the room. He paused, still holding the drape in his hand as he considered with suspicion that a world could exist outside the window.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls, Waking Up at Rembrandt's
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It’s hard to say where a story begins and ends. You have to draw an arbitrary line somewhere. Somewhere between perception and reality. Between what is spoken and what is heard. Between what is written and what is edited out. I know this, you can’t have an ending without a beginning. Even if they are really just random pieces of the middle that tend to stand out. Staccato notes on the page. Points on a circle.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls, Waking Up at Rembrandt's
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You might think of a thought as an invisible, innocuous little thing. Something that barely exists. But a thought is something hard to conceal. Hold a thought and it melts all over your hands. Touch something else and now you’ve left traces of it. Hide it under your shirt and it bleeds through.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls, Waking Up at Rembrandt's
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The painter knew that color was not something you controlled but something you set free. He believed that color knew its way home.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls, Waking Up at Rembrandt's
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the painter had no need for grammar.words fell from his brushes already knowing where to stand, sit, lie down.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls, Love Jaywalks: Poems From The Novel Waking Up At Rembrandts
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words are a border collie’s worst nightmare.

Thomas Lloyd Qualls, Love Jaywalks: Poems From The Novel Waking Up At Rembrandts
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