St. Vincent
St. Vincent
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionMusician
Date of Birth28 September 1982
CountryUnited States of America
hurt pants helping
When you publish something, it is very much as if you pulled your pants down in public. If what you have written is good, nobody can hurt you; if what you have written is bad, nobody can help you.
sad heart love-is
This have I known always: Love is no more than the wide blossom which the wind assails, than the great tide that treads the shifting shore, strewing fresh wreckage gathered in the gales; Pity me that the heart is slow to learn, that the swift mind beholds at every turn.
hate people gathering
I hate people but I love gatherings.
sorry might wells
But if I can't be sorry, why, I might as well be glad!
lovely lovely-things
Death devours all lovely things.
self race our-actions
We are all ruled in what we do by impulses; and these impulses are so organized that our actions in general serve for our self preservation and that of the race.
business years demand
What the customer demands is last year's model, cheaper. To find out what the customer needs you have to understand what the customer is doing as well as he understands it. Then you build what he needs and you educate him to the fact that he needs it.
hurt book writing
A person who publishes a book willfully appears before the populace with his pants down. If it is a good book nothing can hurt him. If it is a bad book nothing can help him.
heartbreak needs dear
After all my erstwhile dear, my no longer cherished; Need we say it was not love, just because it perished?
heart ledges littles
I know what my heart is like Since your love died: It is like a hollow ledge Holding a little pool Left there by the tide, A little tepid pool, Drying inward from the edge.
moving heart thinking
We were so wholly one I had not thought That we could die apart. I had not thought That I could move,—and you be stiff and still! That I could speak,—and you perforce be dumb! I think our heart-strings were, like warp and woof In some firm fabric, woven in and out; Your golden filaments in fair design Across my duller fibre.
book lines firsts
Oh, friend, forget not, when you fain would note In me a beauty that was never mine, How first you knew me in a book I wrote, How first you loved me for a written line....
art philosophy men
There is no God. But it does not matter. Man is enough.
needs kind born
I, being born a woman and distressed By all the needs and notions of my kind...