I am not an objective reporter. I prefer to go further, to the unstated things of our existence. What I can't understand and grasp seems to lead me.
It's a weird partnership. For me and Patrick, if you've met him, we're not very much alike. But we bring such different tools to the table. He doesn't think like me. I don't think like him. He thinks like an editor. He thinks like a director. He thinks completely outside of the box when it comes to writing and so because of that he leads me down roads that I would've never gone down. And he sucks at grammar. So together we're perfect.
When rappers call each other son it leads me to believe they don't take fatherhood very seriously.
Every adventure I've ever had with love and photography has ended in a similar misadventure. As is often the case, the rush of longing detaches from its object of desire, and my photographic ghosts lead me back to myself, alone.
The importance of immobility and silence to photographic authority, the nonfilmic nature of this authority, leads me to some remarks on the relationship of photography with death. Immobility and silence are not only two objective aspects of death, they are also its main symbols, they figure it.
The whole thing is this: If you don't use just basic grammar, if you don't get the language down, you're not going to have access to a tool that people use as a weapon against you. The only reason I was never taught to read and write was because it was easier for them to lead me. But the second I learned to read and write, I began to lead myself.
Sometimes melody and sometimes lyrics. It depends on the tempo and feel of the song. Slower pieces usually begin with melody and faster ones with lyrics. I write for the song and it leads me to my conclusion.
Lead me, Lord, to the Rock that is higher than I. Let me hear your word, give me grace to obey, to build steadily, stone upon stone, day by day, to do what You say. Establish my heart where floods have no power to overwhelm, for Christ's sake. Amen.
But India did not pass me by without a trace: it left tracks which lead me from one infinity to another infinity.
Conversations I have had with school principals and students lead me to the same conclusion-that...there is an evil and growing habit of profanity and the use of foul and filthy language.
Story ideas, but it's also musing on stuff that I'm thinking about. This leads me to this and this leads me to this. They're kind of random and haphazard. Often I can't find anything. Somehow, by doing that, even though I don't necessarily refer to them in a specific way, I have some sort of architecture in my head.
I haven't written a whole lot of nonfiction, but what I have written leads me to believe that it's an entirely different muscle. The ongoing paradox is that sometimes it's harder to get to the emotional truth of something when you only have the facts at your disposal.
As for not getting things right: I constantly rerun social situations/conversations I experience/have throughout my head, and I'm always writing them down in notebooks or in word documents/the Internet. I feel like these habits and a generally good memory of people/the interactions I have with them (due to studying people having always been my main interest in life) have lead me to being very accurate in things I write in stories/essays.
I find, however, it's a much more freeing way to live. It certainly beats walking around with the "Don't you know who I think I am?" voice in your head. I find that only leads me down dark monkey-mind paths and patterns of behavior that benefits no one.
In adolescence I started to find out about Robert Wilson because I saw Lou Reed's "Timerocker" at [the Brooklyn Academy of Music]. I started getting into Jim Jarmusch and knew that my uncle was a friend of his. I pieced together parts of his life in high school and college, which lead me to his story in a funny way.
I share five scriptural insights that lead me to the conclusion that those who are incapable of trusting in Christ on their own are still welcomed into heaven the same way you and I are welcomed into heaven: by the grace of God.
I think following my instinct has proven to lead me in the right direction, and it's hard to hear sometimes, because it's a noisy world and there's a lot of people talking to you.
When I am composing, the sounds are leading me to the way I want them to organize.
I often don't go to sleep and work through the night. I can't seem to do my vocal takes if there's light outside. There's a gentleness to the night that leads me in my stride.
Given that the Al Qaeda core has been significantly destroyed or disabled, and that the leadership seems to be essentially on the run or in hiding, it would lead me to think that probably it is one of the less centralized groups that might be the greatest danger.
I want my husband to lead me and our family. But in order for him to do that I must be willing to submit to his lead. This does not mean I surrender my opinions or input or wisdom...it means I surrender my grip of control and selfish ways and trust him!
I've always been fascinated by the grassroots folktale level of a culture, and as a storyteller, I have to follow what seems to be leading me on.
If it were in my power, I would be wiser; but a newly felt power carries me off in spite of myself; love leads me one way, my understanding another.
I don't want my husband to push me around in a wheelchair. I don't want someone to lead me around because I'm blind.
I have a lot of appreciation for what people do in front of the camera as well as behind the camera. I don't think I could like one without the other. Eventually, I think the road will lead me down to producing or directing, because it's more about problem solving.
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