Will Gregory
Will Gregory
William Owen "Will" Gregory17 September 1959) is an English musician and record producer. He is best known as the lead keyboardist, producer, and composer of the electronic music duo Goldfrapp...
memories real heart
What had survived - maybe all that had survived of Trism - was Liir's sense of him. A catalog of impressions that arose from time to time, unbidden and often upsetting. From the sandy smell of his sandy hair to the locked grip of his muscles as they had wrestled in sensuous aggression - unwelcome nostalgia. Trism lived in Liir's heart like a full suit of clothes in a wardrobe, dress habillards maybe, hollow and real at once. The involuntary memory of the best of Trism's glinting virtues sometimes kicked up unquietable spasms of longing.
children adults restraint
Children are wickeder than adults, they have no sense of restraint.
growing-up adventure mean
Maybe that's what growing up means, in the end - you go far enough in the direction of - somewhere - and you realise that you've neutered the capacity of the term home to mean anything. [...] We don't get an endless number of orbits away from the place where meaning first arises, that treasure-house of first experiences. What we learn, instead, is that our adventures secure us in our isolation. Experience revokes our licence to return to simpler times. Sooner or later, there's no place remotely like home.
needs wonderland wonder
No wonder Wonderland isn't funny to read anymore: We live there full time. We need a break from it.
rain wish said
Don't wish,"said Rain, "don't start. Wishing only...
funny uplifting baby
We only have babies when we're young enough not to know how grim life turns out.
sweet foundation coincidence
The sweet accident of coincidence is the best foundation on which to build.
dark light blind
Light will blind us in time, but what we learn in the dark can see us through.
dark half lost
To read, even in the half-dark, is also to call the lost forward.
eye home filled-up
But his face had that hollow look, as if there was something gone... you know that look. The inward focus. Distantly attentive to the home you're missing, or the someone you're missing. That look that a bird has when it turns it dry reptilian eye on you. That look that doesn't see you because the mind is filled up with someone it would rather see.
air crucible victim
When the times are a crucible, when the air is full of crisis, those who are the most themselves are the victims.
people mines
There were people everywhere but no one was mine, and I was no one's.
games live-your-life secret
The further on we go, the more meaning there is, but the less articulable. You live your life and the older you get- the more specifically you harvest- the more precious becomes every ounce and spasm. Your life and times don’t drain of meaning because they become more contradictory, ornamented by paradox, inexplicable. The less explicable, the more meaning. The less like a mathematics equation (a sum game); the more like music (significant secret).
grief sadness
No one is exempt from grief.