I’m not good in all emergencies. The frustration of an unopenable jar of jam can tip me over the edge, but at least I could use it adequately to cave in the heads of the undead.
Cave divers, of course, deal with an elevated level of risk, and the most that I can say here is that we tend to conduct our work at the bottom of a deep cave on an extremely conservative basis with heavy levels of backup equipment and a policy to abort if any single person doesn’t like the situation underwater at any time during the mission.
Truth is a demure lady, much too ladylike to knock you on your head and drag you to her cave. She is there, but people must want her, and seek her out.
The forms of thought, into which we throw our timid views of God, are but symbols of truths greater than our thoughts. Yet we may not set them aside as worthless, for they are the rungs on which we dwellers in the cave climb to the full view of the Truth, as he is.
Scripts didn’t exist during my time in Bollywood, or, at least, I was never given one. I don’t want to act at all and am happy in my cave.
It’s productive and fun to try interpreting cave paintings, but ultimately, they can’t teach us anything beyond what we imagine them to be.
Do cave paintings mean anything? Not really, but I, for one, am happy to have them.
There are many artists that I know exactly where they are born and what their names are and where they live, which are still very, sort of, hidden. Even Nick Cave, who has a film about himself nowadays, is still someone who I would claim to be utterly enigmatic.
And then I met Jerry and he’s such a creative fiction writer, and I don’t know if there’s ever been a team put together the way we are – where one person does the theological way out and suggestions, and the other person goes into the cave and does the fiction writing.
You don’t sit up in a cave and write the Great American Novel and know it is utterly superb, and then throw it page by page into the fire. You just don’t do that. You send it out. You have to send it out.
The teenager’s room is her cave. It is here she can meet herself, undistracted by the new hassles life is making for her. Here, she can reflect.
Honestly, the essence of publishing hasn’t changed. Since the days of the cave man carving stuff on the cave walls, people have wanted stories, and storytellers have wanted an audience. That is still the case. The changes are really a matter of format.
For years we’ve had leaders who promised to end America’s costly wars, only to cave in to the establishment view.
The flesh-eating cockroaches and venomous centipedes in the Gomantong cave in Borneo were pretty unsavoury. They turn the floor of the cave, which is itself the world’s largest pile of bird and bat poo, into a seething mass of invertebrate horror!
The Smithsonian should box and preserve Tim McGraw’s Nashville den for a future exhibit entitled ‘Early 21st Century American Man Cave.’
The lyrics are different from Nick Cave songs and lyrics. His songs are very narrative.
The frame of the cave leads to the frame of man.
Houses mean a creation, something new, a shelter freed from the idea of a cave.
Since everything in my life collapsed in ’89, I was just determined that I wouldn’t cave in. I wouldn’t just go away or become a basket case. I knew the value of me as a person.
I tried gimmicky stuff ’cause I wanted to get some attention, and remember, you know, in the rap world Seattle was a cave. There was no light.
Haunted since the day its discovery was projected all over the world in 1994, I, like many others, have always wanted to see inside the Chauvet cave, site of the world’s earliest known cave art. Quite rightly, we will never go. It is closed to the public.
Many of us didn’t believe in the image of bin Laden as a wandering Old Man of the Mountains, living on plants and insects in an inhospitable cave somewhere on the porous Pakistan-Afghan border.
In archaeology, context is the basis of many discoveries that are imputed to the deliberate workings of intelligence. If I find a rock chipped in such a way as to give it a sharp edge, and the discovery is made in a cave, I am seduced into ascribing this to tool use by distant, fetid and furry ancestors.
La Cave was a great platform for me to learn and be able to listen in on conversations and just get a lot of notes and teachings from those older guys.
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