Is it wicked not to care when they say that you’re mistaken Thinking hopes and lots of dreams that aren’t there? Is it wicked not to care when you’ve wasted many hours. Talking endlessly to anyone that’s there? I know the truth awaits me, but still I hesitate because of fear.
Is it wicked when you smile Even though you feel like crying Even though you could be sick at any time?
But if there was a sequel Would you love me as an equal? Would you love me until I’m dead?
Kurt puts his design to use and creates the custom Fender Jaguar/Mustang guitar, titled as the ‘Jag-stang’.
Interviewer:How many models are there? And can I buy one?
Kurt:I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s gone into production yet. I don’t know if it will be available for the public. It’s up to them to decide. But what I basically, well, what I did is I took a picture of a Mustang, a Polaroid picture of a Mustang and a picture of a Jaguar and then cut them in half and glued them together and told them to build that. So that’s what it is. It’s the Jag-Stang.
People are just as wonderful as sunsets if you let them be. When I look at a sunset, I don’t find myself saying, “Soften the orange a bit on the right hand corner.” I don’t try to control a sunset. I watch with awe as it unfolds.
Deep down, all the while, she was waiting for something to happen. Like a sailor in distress, she kept casting desperate glances over the solitary waster of her life, seeking some white sail in the distant mists of the horizon. She had no idea by what wind it would reach her, toward what shore it would bear her, or what kind of craft it would be – tiny boat or towering vessel, laden with heartbreaks or filled to the gunwhales with rapture. But every morning when she awoke she hoped that today would be the day; she listened for every sound, gave sudden starts, was surprised when nothing happened; and then, sadder with each succeeding sunset, she longed for tomorrow.
Gustave Flaubert, Madame Bovary