René Descartes (1596–1650)
Descartes was a late riser. The French philosopher liked to sleep until mid-morning, then linger in bed, thinking and writing, until 11:00 or so.
His comfortable bachelor’s life ended abruptly in late 1649, Descartes accepted a position in the court of Queen Christina of Sweden.
Descartes accepted a position in the court of Queen Christina of Sweden,Arriving in Sweden, in time for one of the coldest winters in memory, Descartes was notified that his lessons to Queen Christina would take place in the mornings—beginning at 5:00 A.M. He had no choice but to obey. But the early hours and bitter cold were too much for him. After only a month on the new schedule, Descartes fell ill, apparently of pneumonia; ten days later he was dead.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“Dubito, ergo cogito, ergo sum.
(English: "I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am")”
― Rene Descartes
#dailyrituals #inktober #reneDescartes @masoncurrey #wouldratherdiethangetupearly
para el dia 9 de Marchusic he decidido aprovechar para el fin dibujar a carla x tennison en su versión animals... se lo están preguntando si me gusta este ship ❤️.
I think I should say that I do not speak English, and I use a translator...o（ｉДｉ）o ••• I've been gone a long time. And I'm with my original character! This is Vivien Shaw, nicknamed "the prophet." He can predict the future, travel through time, and many other things, he-he! (*´▽｀)ﾉﾉ Well, what else can I say about him... Yes, perhaps there is nothing? Ah, good night to me!.. (*´﹀`*)
P. G. Wodehouse (1881–1975)
Once, when he was beginning a Wooster-Jeeves novel, he experimented with using a Dictaphone. After he had dictated the equivalent of a page, he played it back to check it over. What he heard sounded so terribly unfunny that he immediately turned off the machine and went back to his pad and pencil.
After this, according to the biographer Robert McCrum, “he might snooze a bit in his armchair, have a bath, and do some more work, before the evening cocktail (sherry for her, a lethal martini for him) at six, which they took in the sun parlour, overlooking the garden.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“He had just about enough intelligence to open his mouth when he wanted to eat, but certainly no more.”
― P.G. Wodehouse
#dailyrituals #inktober #PGWodehouse @masoncurrey
the wounded soldier is no longer just a man begging for mercy - he is infected with something dangerous, which makes him aggressive and possibly uncontrollable. His outstretched hand may now mean not a plea, but an attempt to grab the protagonist, which increases the sense of threat.
The soldier's eyes, wide open and seemingly filled with fear or madness, now look like a sign of loss of humanity. The blood stains on his clothes are no longer just traces of battle, but perhaps the result of his own aggression.
The chains in the background can be interpreted as a symbol of restriction or control over the infected - perhaps he was captured or locked up, but was able to break free.
William Styron (1925–2006)
“Let’s face it, writing is hell,” Styron told The Paris Review in 1954.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“We’re all in this game together.”
― William Styron
#dailyrituals #inktober #WilliamStyron @masoncurrey
Cover for my fanfic i writing for "Batman: Zero Year" comic.
After Zero: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63498001
"I bloom, a flower fair and bright, A needed thing, for two, a light. In hearts' soft garden, breezes play, I grow in strength with each new day."
The Riddler nodded patiently, his eyes half-lidded in boredom. Amber devoted almost all her energy to keep reciting this stupid rhyme that she had composed and practiced until she turned pale from exhaustion. The remaining part of her energy was spent on NOT clutching her jacket.
"But then, a worm, with wicked bite. Gnawed at my grain and dimmed my light. A spreading blight, a change so foul. Cursed my existence, took its toll. My two companions, caught in strife. Began to gnaw and hurt their life. Absorbing poison, bit by bit. They both grew sick, they couldn't quit."
"…"
“Who am I?"
The Riddler lazily raised his eyes to the sky and just as slowly raised his hands.
"Love!"
His voice was full of theatrical reverence. He didn’t even pretended that the riddle made him ponder over it.
"To be more precise — twisted love. Am I right?"
Louise Bourgeois (1911–2010)
“My life has been regulated by insomnia,” Bourgeois told an interviewer in 1993. “It’s something that I have never been able to understand, but I accept it.” Bourgeois learned to use these sleepless hours productively, propped up in bed with her “drawing diary,” listening to music or the hum of traffic on the streets.
“Each day is new, so each drawing—with words written on the back—lets me know how I’m doing,” she said. “I now have 110 drawing-diary pages, but I’ll probably destroy some.
- From Daily Rituals: How Artists Work by Mason Currey
“I am not what I am, I am what I do with my hands...”
― Louise Bourgeois
“Every day you have to abandon your past or accept it, and then, if you cannot accept it, you become a sculptor.”
― Louise Bourgeois
#dailyrituals #inktober #LouiseBourgeois @masoncurrey
