A person who really knows how to read this picture-writing feels, through the semblance of calm, the mighty tension of the world-process, of things rising up and sinking away, appearing and vanishing; how everything that has become vibrates in the flux of Becoming and Unbecoming—evanescent, yet absolute.
They are so at one that he no longer has a meaning of his own; he is submerged in it and, vanishing within it, encounters himself and yet not himself: an evanescence in the essence of things.
It is easy to appear spectacular, but the good actor strives to be as unspectacular as possible.
What is not suggested, not said, is more important and expressive than what is said.
It is just these insignificant, involuntary move ya which are significant for the Master„ as reflections of a genuine state not brought about by the will.
The problem is, Corr, that as we work toward a purer, looser, more holy warmth of expression and creation, the critics are going to have to work a little harder to find out whether it’s water or piss in the holy grail, and even then they might end up wrong.
The crux of the curious difficulty lies in the fact that our conscious views of what life ought to be seldom correspond to what life really is.
I think sometimes of the great symphonies that we have accepted today and that were hissed at and walked out upon when first heard.
It doesn’t draw attention to itself. But it’s there just waiting for you to discover.
The demand of immediate gratification is death for any art which takes place over time. That the audience be teased, disappointed, reassured, frightened, and finally freed is the essence of dramatic/musical form. It has to talk place over time, and it must contain reversals. And the greater the art the more upsetting, provoking, ‘dramatic’ those reversals are—it is only, and necessarily, garbage that ‘makes us feel good all the time.