It Was The Basilica Of Gossip, The

Fishing Largely Consists Of Not Catching Fish; Failure Is As Much A Part Of The Sport As Knee Injuries Are Of Football.

For The Machine Meant The Conquest Of Horizontal Space. It Also Meant A Sense Of That Space Which Few People Had Experienced Before – The Succession And Superimposition Of Views, The Unfolding Of Landscape In Flickering Surfaces As One Was Carried Swiftly Past It, And An Exaggerated Feeling Of Relative Motion (the Poplars Nearby Seeming To Move Faster Than The Church Spire Across The Field) Due To Parallax. The View From The Train Was Not The View From The Horse. It Compressed More Motifs Into The Same Time. Conversely, It Left Less Time In Which To Dwell On Any One Thing.

Drawing Never Dies, It Holds On By The Skin Of Its Teeth, Because The Hunger It Satisfies – The Desire For An Active, Investigative, Manually Vivid Relation With The Things We See And Yearn To Know About – Is Apparently Immortal.

Why Wait For A Call When You Have A Command?

Nothing They Design Ever Gets In The Way Of A Work Of Art