A typewriter is a means of transcribing thought, not expressing it.
quote by Marshall McLuhan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
No art can be noble which is incapable of expressing thought, and no art is capable of expressing thought which does not change.
quote by John Ruskin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I had a TV set and a typewriter and that made me think a computer should be laid out like a typewriter with a video screen.
quote by Steve Wozniak
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prescribed Thought A Prescribed Mode Of Action
There is no such a thing
There is no such a thing as a most natural way
There is no such a thing as a most natural way of expressing a thought
There is no such a thing as a most natural way of expressing a thought a mode of action
There is no such a thing as a most natural way of expressing a thought a mode of action a form of logic
After so much thought
After so much thought about loneliness
It becomes apparent
Logic can no longer be relied upon
Logic can no longer be relied upon as a base for studying the structure of language
The structure of my poetry
The structure of my soul
The structure of my God
I dare think
I dare to know
I dare to think
I will not be hardwired from the thinking of my birth rising from some dogmatic slumber.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Meaning Of War
Meaning of war
War means bombing
War means explosions
War means fire
War means destruction
War means hating
War means mutilation
War means killing
War means tears
War means guns
War means loss
War means not of who is right
War means not of who is wrong
War means only of whom is left
poem by Oscar Montano
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Brie Carter
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War Means
War Means death
War Means destruction
War Means fire
War Means bombing
War Means sorrow
War Means turmoil
War Means tears
War Means guns
War Means blood
War Means confusion
War Means explosions
War Means mutilation
War Means sickness
War Means killing
War Means occupation
War Means loss
And lots more
But after one side
Or the other side
Has finally had enough
And lays down their arms
To surrender and give up
War Means Peace
poem by Mrunal Nandankar
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There, in the chords and melodies, is everything I want to say. The words just jolly it along. It's always been my way of expressing what for me is inexpressible by any other means.
quote by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I figured somebody wrote a story who had a typewriter and I thought that movies were made by the cowboys and that they just said, 'Okay, you fall off the horse this time.'
quote by John Sayles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I have no desire to prove anything by dancing. I have never used it as an outlet or a means of expressing myself. I just dance. I just put my feet in the air and move them around.
quote by Fred Astaire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is also this benefit in brag, that the speaker is unconsciously expressing his own ideal. Humor him by all means, draw it all out, and hold him to it.
quote by Miguel de Cervantes
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The modern artist... is working and expressing an inner world - in other words - expressing the energy, the motion, and other inner forces.
quote by Jackson Pollock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Expressing the thoughts of my comrades, I suggested, among other means, the organization of an international information service on inventories, on production, and on the needs of the various countries for raw materials.
quote by Leon Jouhaux
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was already devouring literature and I was the ripe old age of 15 when I decided to be an actor. I just thought plays were the most fantastic way of expressing life. I thought I'd discovered Shakespeare - 'hey, there's a new guy in town, don't know if anyone's read him.' I was just excited about the whole thing, from day one.
quote by Chiwetel Ejiofor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death means Love means
Death means freedom
Love means pain
Which would you choose?
Death means rest peacefully
Love means restless motion
Which would be comfortable?
Death means life
love means death to the heart
Which one would you want?
Death means everlasting happiness
Love means confusion
Which would be more rich?
Death means rejoice with loved ones
Love means losing someone
Which would be better?
Death means peaceful dreams for forever
Love means fear of nightmares
Which would you perfer?
poem by Desserray Whitcomb
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I never was very capable of expressing my feelings or emotions in words. I don't know whether this is the cause why I did it in music and also why I did it in painting. Or vice versa: That I had this way as an outlet. I could renounce expressing something in words.
quote by Arnold Schoenberg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cutting Their Own Throats
They are cutting their own throats.
'Aren't you being a bit dramatic?
Just because people happen to say,
A few things you dislike.
And their opinions seem to swing,
From the left to the right...
Does not mean that is what they are doing!
Or they want to seperate politically,
And do their own thing.
Which is basically the same thing,
The others are doing...
But more fanatically.
Besides...
People are expressing their disappointment.
Even if half of what has happened,
They have done to themselves.
They have literally created their own problems.'
Come here...
Take a look.
'Oh my!
I thought you meant that metaphorically? '
Meta 'who-ically'?
I don't know what 'that' means!
All I know is what I see.
And...
They are cutting their own throats.
I would not believe it myself,
If I had not witnessed it.
'Yeah...
They are!
For real...
They are!
Wow.
Geeessshhh!
Talk about taking something to the extreme.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Down All The Days
Christy brown a clown around town
Now hes a man of renown from dingle to down
I type with me toes
Suck stout through me nose
And where its gonna end
God only knows
Down all the days
The tap-tap-tapping
Of the typewriter pays
The gentle rattling
Of the drays
Down all the days
I have often had to depend upon
The kindness of strangers
But Ive never been asked
And I never replied
If I supported glasgow rangers
Down all the days
The tap-tap-tapping
Of the typewriter pays
The gentle rattling
Of the drays
Down all the days
song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Share Our Love
Pre>makes me feel good,
Now I can see
It takes more than one to give
The life we need.
(parts a and b run concurrently)
(a) I cant think why (b) cant think |
| why I never thought |
| I never thought of this before of this before, now I know |
| what it means to me |
| now I know what it means to share to share, share all my love with you, |
| to share, share all my love with you. |
| to share my love. |
| |
| |
| now I know why cant think |
| why I never thought |
| Ive found the answer for myself of this before, now I know |
| what it means to me |
| what a day it would be to share to share, share all my love with you, |
| to share, share all my love with you. |
| to share your love |
/pre>
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memorial Day
I know there will be many,
Expressing their thanks and gratitude...
On this, a holiday
To those they once knew,
Who were in their lives...
Doing the best they could do,
To show and proved to others...
How much they loved them too.
I just know...
Those preparing their Memorial Day,
Planning family bar-be-cues...
And spicing their favorite drinks,
With assorted purchased booze...
Relaxing in the Sun and enjoying fun.
'Someone'...
Will be expressing their blessings.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tess's Typewriter.
That year they gave Tess
her first typewriter. She'd
not need to borrow her
brother's battered old piece
or write down her fragile
poems in her spiderlike
scrawl as her father called it.
The promise came while
she was getting her mind
together in that mental
asylum, after the mucky
love affair that went no
place and left her hanging
there, like one crucified
for all to see and most
to softly mutter and stare.
Get yourself mended girl,
Father said, and we'll buy
you your own typewriter,
so you can stab away on
the keys to your heart's
content and bring out
those poems of yours.
He never read her poems,
never read much apart
from the back page sport
or gawked at page 3 girls
with a tut tutting tongue.
That year she gazed out
of the wide barred window
of the asylum at the snow
on fields, at the seagulls
gathering and feeding behind
the faraway tractor as it
ploughed, at the grey
depressing sky, wondering
what it'd be like to not be,
wondering what the woman
with a cast in her eye, was
doing to herself in the toilets,
one night when she'd gone
in to pee unable to sleep.
The typewriter idea
and promise kind of got her
through the dark hours and
the ECT, and the following day
headaches and numbness.
After slitting her wrists (mildly,
a cry for help) she said on the
phone to her father, Come get
me out of this place, help me
get back together. Ok, he said,
Miss Humpty Dumpty, and he
put down the phone, and she
stood in the hall of the asylum
with the receiver in her hand,
the image of the typewriter
before her eyes, those poems
banging on the inside of her
head, new ones wanting to
get out, old ones left for dead.
poem by Terry Collett
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