I’ve discovered if you have a small circle of people you know you can rely on – in good times, bad times, happy times, sad times – who aren’t going to judge you and will, sometimes, just sit and listen to you without saying anything, then I think you’re very fortunate.
I think Paris smells not just sweet but melancholy and curious, sometimes sad but always enticing and seductive. She’s a city for the all senses, for artists and writers and musicians and dreamers, for fantasies, for long walks and wine and lovers and, yes, for mysteries.
I had often sought for the peace there is in Christ, but I could not seem to find the freedom I desired. A terrible sadness rested on my heart. I could not think of anything I had done to cause me to feel sad; but it seemed to me that I was not good enough to enter Heaven, that such a thing would be altogether too much for me to expect.
I like to play the grey areas in life – that’s the most uncomfortable place to be. Nobody likes to be in that in-between state where there don’t know what’s going to happen. There’s a lot of tension in that, and a lot of stuff to play with – where it’s uncomfortable and awkward and sad and scary.
I was given this beautiful coffee table book of Soviet architecture for my birthday. It has a lot of holiday camps, swimming pools, theatres, and buildings that were built for leisure activities. Incredible architecture in the most obscure places. It’s a little bit sad, because a lot of it has been left to fall apart.
As a gay man, there are certain places that I avoid. When I go to China, I lie and pretend I’m not married, which is really sad – I leave my ring at home. But I’m not willing to risk my safety in a country that could cause me no end of problems or where it’s illegal to be gay. I’m very aware of the places I can travel to safely and where I cannot.
I comment on my friends’ things; whatever they post, I post funny posts. I don’t post anything that’s too sad or mad, or at least not for too long. And I’m usually just a happy person! Silly – people would describe me as silly and crazy and fun.
Today, actors aren’t forced to ditch their regional accents like they used to. The best example’s Tom Baker, a Scouser who went to great lengths to change his accent and ended up with something alien – and fantastic. It’s sad that when the likes of him go, there won’t be those sorts of accents any more.
The sad truth is that the civil rights movement cannot be reborn until we identify the causes of black suffering, some of them self-inflicted. Why can’t black leaders organize rallies around responsible sexuality, birth within marriage, parents reading to their children and students staying in school and doing homework?
You may not enjoy loneliness, because loneliness is sad. But solitude is something else; solitude is what you look forward to when you want to be alone, when you want to be with yourself. So, solitude is something we all need from time to time.
I’ve written about this before, but the sad truth is this: There are only a handful of Trump true believers in the Senate. The rest are chugging a toxic slurry of cowardice, ambition, and opportunism that has led members of the upper house of a co-equal branch of government to relinquish their power and prerogatives.
Many scientists think that philosophy has no place, so for me it’s a sad time because the role of reflection, contemplation, meditation, self inquiry, insight, intuition, imagination, creativity, free will, is in a way not given any importance, which is the domain of philosophers.
Until the age of five, my parents spoke to me in Chinese or a combination of Chinese and English, but they didn’t force me to speak Mandarin. In retrospect, this was sad, because they believed that my chance of doing well in America hinged on my fluency in English. Later, as an adult, I wanted to learn Chinese.
The music of ABBA is not that happy. It might sound happy, in some strange way, but deep within, it’s not happy music. It has that Nordic melancholic feeling to it. What fools you is the girls’ voices. You know, I do think that is one of the secrets about ABBA. Even when we were really quite sad, we always sounded jubilant.
It’s sad when you can’t make everyone happy, though. It’s impossible but, at the same time, you still hope. You think, ‘Maybe I can do it,’ but you know you can’t. But gosh, if I had to rely on giving people what they wanted, I would have had to write 40 billion different books and even then, I wouldn’t get it right.
When I design and wonder what the point is, I think of someone having a bad time in their life. Maybe they are sad and they wake up and put on something I have made and it makes them feel just a bit better. So, in that sense, fashion is a little help in the life of a person. But only a little.
If we see a sad rain, it doesn’t mean the rain is sad, but it means we see it. That’s an easily dismissible kind of projection. But what I’m struggling to say, is that we take that rain in through our own hearts and emotions and senses and skin, and all those filters have an impact.
Being sad and being depressed are two different things. Also, people going through depression don’t look so, while someone sad will look sad. The most common reaction is, ‘How can you be depressed? You have everything going for you. You are the supposed number one heroine and have a plush home, car, movies… What else do you want?’
I know that there is a great diversity of opinion as to who, in fact, pays the duties on imports. I do not intend to discuss that point. We of the staple and exporting States have long settled the question for ourselves, almost unanimously, from sad experience.
The old, sad art colors are gone. Now I paint bright colors. I paint paintings which are happy, where children are laughing and playing with animals. I paint paradise on Earth. I still paint sadness sometimes, but there is sadness in the world, too.
‘Eyes Wide Open’ took shape from two real life events straight from my own past. One was the sad suicide of my young nephew, a troubled kid, who was found at the bottom of a landmark cliff in central California. The second was a chance encounter forty years ago with none other than, ahem, Charles Manson!
The tree I had in the garden as a child, my beech tree, I used to climb up there and spend hours. I took my homework up there, my books, I went up there if I was sad, and it just felt very good to be up there among the green leaves and the birds and the sky.
I was going to McDonald’s and Taco Bell every day. The kids behind the counter knew me – it wouldn’t even faze them. Or I’d sit up at Denny’s or Big Boy and just eat by myself. It was sad. I got so heavy that people started to not recognize me.
The true artist is not proud: he unfortunately sees that art has no limits; he feels darkly how far he is from the goal, and though he may be admired by others, he is sad not to have reached that point to which his better genius only appears as a distant, guiding sun.
To be honest, I’m a little upset these days. My family has been exposed to the media. Some people break into our house. My ex-girlfriend’s photos are circulating online. To say that these are things I need to endure for the sake of celebrity… that’s sad. I want to respectfully request that my private life remain private.
