Will Gluck
Will Gluck
Will Gluck is an American film director, film producer, screenwriter, songwriter, and composer...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionDirector
CountryUnited States of America
letting-go sublime age
I caution you as I was never cautioned: You will never let go, you will never be satiated. You will be damaged and scarred, you will continue to hunger. Your body will age, you will continue to need. You will want the earth, then more of the earth-- Sublime, indifferent, it is present, it will not respond. It is encompassing, it will not minister. Meaning, it will feed you, it will ravish you. It will not keep you alive.
pain childhood
From the beginning of time, in childhood, I thought that pain meant I was not loved. It meant I loved.
feelings mind great-things
The great thing is not having a mind. Feelings: oh, I have those; they govern me.
summer night joy
Balm of the summer night, balm of the ordinary, imperial joy and sorrow of human existence, the dreamed as well as the lived— what could be dearer than this, given the closeness of death?
mourning intense intense-love
Intense love always leads to mourning.
moving writing doe
The master said you must write what you see / But what I see does not move me / The master answered Change what you see.
brain honor
Honor the words that enter and attach to your brain.
goodbye saying-goodbye veils
To raise the veil. To see what you're saying goodbye to.
dream soul speak
The soul is silent. If it speaks at all it speaks in dreams.
sister two dancer
Of two sisters one is always the watcher, one the dancer.
self mind answers
17. The self ended and the world began. They were of equal size, commensurate, one mirrored the other. 18. The riddle was: why couldn't we live in the mind. The answer was: the barrier of the earth intervened.
loneliness heart wind
Desire, loneliness, wind in the flowering almond— surely these are the great, the inexhaustible subjects to which my predecessors apprenticed themselves. I hear them echo in my own heart, disguised as convention.
loss birth hard
Birth, not death, is the hard loss.
form
The love of form is a love of endings.