But self-discipline is different. It’s the skill of seeing through the hollow shouting of your own impulses...
— Bhante Henepola Gunaratana, Mindfulness in Plain English (Simon and Schuster, Sep 6, 2011)
Our job, as souls on this mortal journey, is to shift the seat of our identity from the lower realm to the upper, from the ego to the Self.
Art (or, more exactly, the struggle to produce art) teaches us that.
We see movies in which people are represented as being in love who never talk with one another, who fall into bed without ever discussing their bodies, their sexual needs, their likes and dislikes. Indeed, the message received from the mass media is that knowledge makes love less compelling; that it is ignorance that gives love its erotic and transgressive edge. These messages are often brought to us by profiteering producers who have no clue about the art of loving, who substitute their mystified visions because they do not really know how to genuinely portray loving interaction…
— “all about love: New Visions” by bell hooks
At times I fake my enthusiasm. At others, I fear I am incapable of communicating the depth of it.
∆ Maggie Nelson, Bluets
"Contemporary artists borrow images from the past so as to say things impossible to express in a modernist visual language. Sometimes an artist with an eye on the bandwagon and the market will borrow the form but drain the content from his or her source in a mood of scholarly tourism – handouts on the Golden Boughery. Some artists fortify their forms or emotional instincts with anthropological information, or superficially graft such information onto currently fashionable styles. Others work from inside, arriving at primal images from their own needs, overlaying personal on historical and perhaps even biological memory."