Having a great golf swing helps under pressure, but golf is a game about scoring. It's like an artist who can get a two-inch brush at Wal-Mart for 20 cents or a fine camel-hair brush from an art store for 20 dollars. The brush doesn't matter - how the finished painting looks is what matters.
You must first realize the thing completely in your mind. Then grasp the brush, fix your attention so that you see clearly what you wish to paint; start quickly, move the brush, follow straight what you see before you, as the buzzard swoops down when the hare jumps out. If you hesitate one moment, it is gone.
I sit for two or three hours and then in 15 minutes I can do a painting, but that's part of it. You have to get ready and decide to jump up and do it; you build yourself up psychologically, and so painting has no time for brush. Brush is boring, you give it and all of a sudden it's dry, you have to go. Before you cut the thought, you know?
Her life her life had taken on the shape of a terrible mistake. She hadn't been given the proper tools to make a real life with, she decided, that was it. She'd been given a can of gravy and a hair-brush and told, "There you go." She'd stood there for years, blinking and befuddled, brushing the can with the brush.
I love liquid eyeliner - it's just easier. It doesn't melt, fade, skip, or smudge. It's tougher to use because it's not as forgiving. The brush for my em michelle phan Scribble Calligraphy Liquid Liner was inspired by a calligraphy brush, so you can get a very thick or thin line, depending on how you flick it. I use it in Tattoo Black.
I regard photography and film simply as new technical means which painters must absolutely make use of, just as from time out of mind they have made use of brush, charcoal and color. It is certain, however, that photography and film must become as evocative for the sensibility as pencil, charcoal and brush. (1927)
In Japan, a number of time-honored everyday activities (such as making tea, arranging flowers, and writing) have traditionally been deeply examined by their proponents. Students study how to make tea, perform martial arts, or write with a brush in the most skillful way possible to express themselves with maximum efficiency and minimum strain. Through this efficient, adroit, and creative performance, they arrive at art. But if they continue to delve even more deeply into their art, they discover principles that are truly universal, principles relating to life itself. Then, the art of brush writing becomes shodo-the 'Way of the brush'-while the art of arranging flowers is elevated to the status of kado-the 'Way of flowers.' Through these Ways or Do forms, the Japanese have sought to realize the Way of living itself. They have approached the universal through the particular.
You sneaked into my cabin?' Annabeth rolled her eyes. 'Percy, you'll be seventeen in two months. You can't seriously be worried about getting in trouble with Coach Hedge.' 'Uh, have you seen his baseball bat?' 'Besides, Seaweed Brain, I just thought we could take a walk. We haven't had any time to be together alone. I want to show you something-my favorite place aboard the ship.' Percy's pulse was still in overdrive, but it wasn't from fear of getting in trouble. 'Can I, you know, brush my teeth first?' 'You'd better, ' Annabeth said. 'Because I'm not kissing you until you do. And brush your hair while you're at it.
The most work he did on [the urinals] was to run a brush once or twice apiece, singing some song as loud as he could in time to the swishing brush; then he'd splash in some Clorox and he'd be through. ... And when the Big Nurse...came in to check McMurphy's cleaning assignment personally, she brought a little compact mirror and she held it under the rim of the bowls. She walked along shaking her head and saying, "Why, this is an outrage... an outrage..." at every bowl. McMurphy sidled right along beside her, winking down his nose and saying in answer, "No; that's a toilet bowl...a TOILET bowl.
The most work he did on [the urinals] was to run a brush once or twice apiece, singing some song as loud as he could in time to the swishing brush; then he'd splash in some Clorox and he'd be through... And when the Big Nurse... came in to check McMurphy's cleaning assignment personally, she brought a little compact mirror and she held it under the rim of the bowls. She walked along shaking her head and saying, "Why, this is an outrage... an outrage... " at every bowl. McMurphy sidled right along beside her, winking down his nose and saying in answer, "No; that's a toilet bowl... a TOILET bowl.
Our lips now conjoin like the glittery coils of a wet snake dancing in the amazon. Kissing Nadia sends me into a savoring affair for that which is most delectable, always tasting the delicate layers that exist in her myriad of emotion. Always, Nadia's opulent lips gratify and subdue by easing my sensitivity as she drags her fingers down my stomach like a tree scattering its roots. I now brush my lips over Nadia's, dipping into her mouth like a brush that falls into a bucket of paint, osculating under this euphoric form of affection.
Then I say, "Let's go and brush our teeth." So Lola says, "But Charlie, I can't brush my teeth because somebody is using my tooth." "But who would use your toothbrush?" I ask. Lola says "I think that lion. I saw a lion with my toothbrush and now he's brushing his teeth with it." "But it isn't this your toothbrush Lola?" "Oh, " says Lola, "he must be using yours.
Shimamoto was in charge of the records. She'd take one from its jacket, place it carefully on the turntable without touching the grooves with her fingers, and, after making sure to brush the cartridge free of any dust with a tiny brush, lower the needle ever so gently onto the record. When the record was finished, she'd spray it and wipe it with a felt cloth. Finally she'd return the record to its jacket and its proper place on the shelf. Her father had taught her this procedure, and she followed his instructions with a terribly serious look on her face, her eyes narrowed, her breath held in check. Meanwhile, I was on the sofa, watching her every move. Only when the record was safely back on the shelf did she turn to me and give a little smile. And every time, this thought hit me: It wasn't a record she was handling. It was a fragile soul inside a glass bottle.