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Quote by Ilana Masad

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Ilana Masad

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“Paparazzi Pepperoni by Stewart Stafford Gladiatrix in an algorithmic arena; Jane of all trades, influencer of none, Duckface pose in a selfie pout, A zillion zombies waiting online. Her fall from filtered grace was swift: A subscribed intimate pact by proxy, Fame, meat for a pixelated lupine mob, Her downfall contracted in a dopamine hit. Fire overnight, smouldering ruins by day, Her virtual world crumbled around her, Stepped off the ledge into digital oblivion, Her fallen camera will fit another’s hand. Posthumous branding in overdrive, Her agent commodified the loss, Only fans devoured the real her, A paywall phantom on cyber-loop. © 2025, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

“There is a place at the centre of the World, between the zones of earth, sea, and sky, at the boundary of the three worlds. From here, whatever exists is seen, however far away, and every voice reaches listening ears. Rumour lives there, choosing a house for herself on a high mountain summit, adding innumerable entrances, a thousand openings, and no doors to bar the threshold. It is open night and day: and is all of sounding bronze. All rustles with noise, echoes voices, and repeats what is heard. There is no peace within: no silence anywhere. Yet there is no clamour, only the subdued murmur of voices, like the waves of the sea, if you hear them far off, or like the sound of distant thunder when Jupiter makes the dark clouds rumble. Crowds fill the hallways: a fickle populace comes and goes, and, mingling truth randomly with fiction, a thousand rumours wander, and confused words circulate. Of these, some fill idle ears with chatter, others carry tales, and the author adds something new to what is heard. Here is Credulity: here is rash Error, empty Delight, and alarming Fear, sudden Sedition, and Murmurings of doubtful origin. Rumour herself sees everything that happens in the heavens, throughout the ocean, and on land, and inquires about everything on earth.”

“You see when you are selling under ten books and stories a year and you have zero likes on most of your quotes, that is the special time where you have a very close relationship with your art. I mean you still have total trust in your art and your art still has total trust in you. And so does the universe, or God. That is the reward. The relationship or connection with your art is untainted, pure, beautiful. I mean who is the most famous painter in the world? You see, distractions like fame destroy all that. It is just a shame that he did not live long enough to celebrate his success as a creator, though I am sure he did in his own way. This is related to your ego or label that you later accept when you are known by the masses, because when you are unknown, unread, unseen, un-smelled, unfelt, unheard, you are not yet labelled. Bukowski talked about that, how young authors were destroyed when they became famous early, their art being corrupted by their ego, and how others turned to political commentary. Bukowski was grateful that he never made it when he was young. So, he could carry on creating undisturbed, as it were, by society. Of course they came for him eventually, but as he famously said, they came for me too late. The remarkable thing about Van Gogh and Bukowski was how they both kept creating great art until their deaths. The fact that you are reading this quote and I am still unknown, and more importantly unlabelled is a blessing to you and me.”

“Essentially we are all verbs but because of the ego (or how society labels us) most people view themselves as nouns. When we apply this limitation to the creative arts, or more specifically writing, we can observe that writers will create their best art when they consider themselves simply as verbs, as in, "writers write." But if writers experience fame and fortune at a young age they will often fall victim to their ego, as in they have now been elevated by the masses to a noun. "I am now a writer, as accepted by the objective test of society because I have made a sufficient amount of money at it." The noun therefore has definitions or boundaries and therefore limitations, thus it is highly likely that the future art created will not be as free or powerful in the minds of the readers or observers. This irony applies not only to art but to most aspects connected to an individual in their lives.”