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C. Sean McGee Quotes

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“Filter for a Frail Horizon: I lose a breath while I'm thinking, Misplace a second as it passes out of time. A splice of memories now missing, I think a moment passed where I forgot to die. And so this day is becoming... High in tide that will take me home, Conceals a current running straight through hell. It caught me drifting from the world I know, A broken crest on a rising swell. And surely hope is resigning...; I think I'm waking from another dream, I won't remember how I made it out alive. The focus centres on uncertainty, The null and voids have become a way of life. And so my self is descending...”

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Author:C. Sean McGee
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“A shit on a plate is just a shit on a plate. It’s foul. It’s rank. It’s rancid. It’s disgusting. Until I tell you it’s art, that is. Then it’s authentic, bold, evocative, challenging, and abstruse,” he exclaimed. “Art is what I say it is, and when I say it. Until then, it’s just a shit on a plate. It’s how these wretched drug addicts, indigents, and sycophants pass their time. It’s the plank of rotting wood they cling to as they drift aimlessly through an ocean of misery and woe. It’s what keeps them from killing themselves until eventually, swollen with rejection and failure, it becomes the reason they do.”

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“The computer can never be an artist, not until it doubts itself. Not until it is so full of shame and regret. And not until that fetid shame is sprinkled with glittering hope and inspiration. Then, when it is lost, desolate, and still hopeful - when it is utterly confused - only then can it call itself an artist. A machine can’t be that way. So, walk away from it. Do not protest it. That which you protest, you merely give strength - by pushing against it, you prop it up, you stop it from falling over. Walk away, let it collapse under the weight of its own hubris. Let it lie in ruin - unseen, unheard, unneeded. Let it rot unattended, and maybe then can it truly understand what it means to be an artist.”

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“RELFECTIONS (Time Machine III) A young man stares at his reflection, And sees an old man looking back. “Where did the time go?” he wonders. And, “How did we ever lose track?” “Is this the same person, that amounts to wondrous things? How long did we spend dreaming? Is this reflection really as it seems? Who are you old man? I’ve seen you in times before. Is this, the face that greets me, the mask I always wore?” The young man drops his stare, And moves towards the door. The boy he thought he was, He can recognize no more.”

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