Words are but pictures of our thoughts.
Going back into the history of a word, very often into Latin, we come back pretty commonly to pictures or models of how things happen or are done.
My mind sort of works like a search engine. You ask me something, and I start seeing pictures.
Mary, my little girl, was confirmed in a Buddhist temple. She saw the Life write up on Buddhism, with pictures of the ceremony, and she said she wanted to be confirmed there because she only liked Jesus as a kid. She was a little disappointed in him when he grew up.
Everybody wants blockbusters. I like to see a few pictures now and then that have to do with people and have relationships, and that’s what I want to do films about. I don’t want to see these sci-fi movies, and I don’t want to do one of those. I don’t understand it.
Child! Do not throw this book about; refrain from the unholy pleasure of cutting all the pictures out.
Romance and novel paint beauty in colors more charming than nature, and describe a happiness that humans never taste. How deceptive and destructive are those pictures of consummate bliss!
I hope for quick, fluent copy and memorable pictures. The words would not ‘describe’ the pictures; the pictures would not ‘illustrate’ the words. Together, they would carry a stamp and tell a story.
Often as a poet I find that I am somewhat outside an experience I want to hold onto, consciously taking mental notes or writing them down in my journal – for fear that I will forget. It’s not unlike being on a trip and taking pictures, your face behind a camera the whole time – the entire experience mediated by a lens.
Those who decide to use leisure as a means of mental development, who love good music, good books, good pictures, good plays, good company, good conversation – what are they? They are the happiest people in the world.