I’ve always been told a man must develop his craft. To choose something to center his life around and then pound on it, perfecting it, but not getting there. To enjoy the ride, while learning as much as one can.
Inali
To begin to create another dimension is to delve deep into the space that exists when you close your eyes and press on them with the heels of your hand. That dark, sparkly, shifting place where we all go at times.
Virginia Boone
Nobody could deny her her craft. People may ridicule her for it, even chastise her for it, but it still remained hers. That was the best part of crafting; it could be completely solitary, and completely secretive if it needed to be. Unfortunately, society deemed her hobby to be somewhat vulgar, so she was forced into both the former and the latter part. Complete solitude. Completely secretive. Taxidermy had a bad habit of making most people uncomfortable… but not her.
ME
She put the scissors back in their appointed jar and started to tie the ribbon in a careful bow. As I watched, it dawned on me how little I knew about the woman making the snowflake ornaments at my kitchen table. And we supposedly once occupied the same house. It was strange that she had grown so distant in so little time.
Crafting something takes a certain amount of passion, otherwise one is only making or writing, or working on something. To craft is to make something as heartfelt as possible. It may take years or just hours, but it takes all of your mind. Your thoughts dwell on this item or story constantly and it pulls at you until you are completed. To craft is to spill yourself out onto something even slightly more physically substantial.
Daisylion
Jem’s craft was photography. He was good at it, really. But it was more about the feeling, about what he put into it. He put in all his emotions, his thoughts, into the image that he captured.
crafting
expressing yourself through do
expressing yourself through make
expressing yourself through you
in your head, in your hands, in your heart
misora
World of warcraft is a good game I guess. Writing about the word craft is not a good game. It’s stressful and stuff.
Al G
any craft in which an artist towards an endeavor blunted by life
is coitus, between the mind, and the craft, constant, coitus!
instead of spaying a pen for its disagreement with the lonely paper on the office-desk,
frenzy your way into a nominal map, for personal perusal!
Craft can mean fun things to do that bring peace and happiness to the soul. I tend to think of craft beer, though. What is that exactly? I don’t know. But I’m thirsty and it sounds good. Look at the craft of something. Good work
i need to craft a knife or else i’m gonna starve to dead- Being abandoned in a jungle isn’t as movies portrait it, the hero always finds food in everycorner, no. I can’t seem to find any animal around or even fruit, not even a single insect. I secured my water supplies by finding a river nearby the crash, so i’m waiting around it to see if any animal comes nearby in order to kill it and feed myself, but my god i need a knife
Craftsman creates craft, cutting, carving and coloring curves.
Waits in his weather beaten workshop, wishing the world well, while he lathes late into the night.
Wood chips under his feet crunch as they tread here and there to get the right angle on the anvil. Sparks fly. as the flames fly high into the dark night, twinkle then fizzle out, gone forever.
Fiocle
“Don’t cry, craft.” I hear as I watch another video of my best friends. I mean, they’re not really my best friends, they don’t even know who I am. But I consider them friends, because that’s what they are to me. They help me through everything without even knowing about it.
An endless spell. Scars crafted on my heart. That’s what you did to me. The bleeding won’t stop. The wound has closed up already though. Even now, why haven’t I forgotten about you?
What is it? What will it be? What skill will you dedicate your life to? How good are you at it? Do you have a natural talent for it? Are you willing to put in the 4000 hours that it’s going to take before anyone can appreciate it? Would you be willing to pursue it while your friends are off getting high-paying jobs off in the mines? Getting married? Buying houses? Are you really going to stick with your craft and hone it amidst all that longing and distraction?
We try to nurture our love as if it is a craft we are trying to perfect, and our words are our hands and we try not to damage it too badly, but it’s hard to get good at something that leaves such a lasting imprint, and it’s so fragile. It feels like we’re trying to build a castle out of cards, or painting up-close pointillism, and not noticing you’ve gone wrong until you step way, way back and by then you don’t know if it’s too late. Nobody can teach you this.
Felxi and I are building house in minecraft and felix begtsson plays world of ear craft and craft is like arts and craft and it remainds me were mom worked. I remember waiting mom out of her office with my babysitter infront of a river.
Tommaso Alocci
under thy roof
no guest shall sit
nor at thy table eat a bit
no pleasant tale shall ever
be told
nor things recounted done of old
Alice
Slow type deliberate, intentionally going slower as not to feel the rush of the timer, but lose out. Craft, making intentionally creating. Working on a masterpiece, not the thrown together crap something worthwhile, how life should be lived.
are the pictures in my head even worth anything
if i can’t spit them out into some physical form?
is the love in my head even worth anything
if i can’t touch you
or be with you
Ceramics was Jermaine’s craft. Glass blowing was Kathleen’s. Both Tom and Sam worked with gems and precious stones, molding them into intricate strings and circles of color for the people of fashion to adorn themselves. Charlie and Linda enjoyed working with oil paints, and I was an up and coming welder.
Belinda Roddie
She had found her little niche in the artistic world years ago, setting up shop in a little-visited corner of the city. Her workshop’s sign was just a piece of paper taped to the grimy window, and it needed to be replaced every time it rained, which was often.
she crafted her heart around his stories, a beautiful partnership that was meant to last them through the long days of the christmas break. he’d laugh and his eyes would light up as he told of the time he’d fallen on his face after trying to dance under the fairy lights; she’d cut apart rows of paper and bring them back together in a collage of happiness and innocence.
Kraft habe ich genug. Kraft ist nicht das Problem. Das Problem ist eher, dass ich nicht weiß, whin mit meiner Kraft. Deswegen lasse ich sie versiegen. Deswegen verschwende ich sie für Dinge, die mich gar nicht wirklich interessieren. Ich kann nicht dranbleiben. Denn wenn ich dranbleiben würde, müsste ich wissen, an was ich dranbleiben will.
She never thought she would take up the craft of knitting, but there was so much time that she had to spend waiting for one appointment or another, that she brought along needles and yarn. Since she was worried about what the appointments would reveal, the knits and purls kept her mind off her problems when she was too worried to concentrate on reading.
I’ve always been told a man must develop his craft. To choose something to center his life around and then pound on it, perfecting it, but not getting there. To enjoy the ride, while learning as much as one can.
To begin to create another dimension is to delve deep into the space that exists when you close your eyes and press on them with the heels of your hand. That dark, sparkly, shifting place where we all go at times.
Nobody could deny her her craft. People may ridicule her for it, even chastise her for it, but it still remained hers. That was the best part of crafting; it could be completely solitary, and completely secretive if it needed to be. Unfortunately, society deemed her hobby to be somewhat vulgar, so she was forced into both the former and the latter part. Complete solitude. Completely secretive. Taxidermy had a bad habit of making most people uncomfortable… but not her.
She put the scissors back in their appointed jar and started to tie the ribbon in a careful bow. As I watched, it dawned on me how little I knew about the woman making the snowflake ornaments at my kitchen table. And we supposedly once occupied the same house. It was strange that she had grown so distant in so little time.
Crafting something takes a certain amount of passion, otherwise one is only making or writing, or working on something. To craft is to make something as heartfelt as possible. It may take years or just hours, but it takes all of your mind. Your thoughts dwell on this item or story constantly and it pulls at you until you are completed. To craft is to spill yourself out onto something even slightly more physically substantial.
Jem’s craft was photography. He was good at it, really. But it was more about the feeling, about what he put into it. He put in all his emotions, his thoughts, into the image that he captured.
crafting
expressing yourself through do
expressing yourself through make
expressing yourself through you
in your head, in your hands, in your heart
World of warcraft is a good game I guess. Writing about the word craft is not a good game. It’s stressful and stuff.
any craft in which an artist towards an endeavor blunted by life
is coitus, between the mind, and the craft, constant, coitus!
instead of spaying a pen for its disagreement with the lonely paper on the office-desk,
frenzy your way into a nominal map, for personal perusal!
Oh my goodness! I’m on the clock! Craft a sparrow and set it free. I am Mother Nature for thee.
Craft can mean fun things to do that bring peace and happiness to the soul. I tend to think of craft beer, though. What is that exactly? I don’t know. But I’m thirsty and it sounds good. Look at the craft of something. Good work
i need to craft a knife or else i’m gonna starve to dead- Being abandoned in a jungle isn’t as movies portrait it, the hero always finds food in everycorner, no. I can’t seem to find any animal around or even fruit, not even a single insect. I secured my water supplies by finding a river nearby the crash, so i’m waiting around it to see if any animal comes nearby in order to kill it and feed myself, but my god i need a knife
Craftsman creates craft, cutting, carving and coloring curves.
Waits in his weather beaten workshop, wishing the world well, while he lathes late into the night.
Wood chips under his feet crunch as they tread here and there to get the right angle on the anvil. Sparks fly. as the flames fly high into the dark night, twinkle then fizzle out, gone forever.
“Don’t cry, craft.” I hear as I watch another video of my best friends. I mean, they’re not really my best friends, they don’t even know who I am. But I consider them friends, because that’s what they are to me. They help me through everything without even knowing about it.
An endless spell. Scars crafted on my heart. That’s what you did to me. The bleeding won’t stop. The wound has closed up already though. Even now, why haven’t I forgotten about you?
What is it? What will it be? What skill will you dedicate your life to? How good are you at it? Do you have a natural talent for it? Are you willing to put in the 4000 hours that it’s going to take before anyone can appreciate it? Would you be willing to pursue it while your friends are off getting high-paying jobs off in the mines? Getting married? Buying houses? Are you really going to stick with your craft and hone it amidst all that longing and distraction?
We try to nurture our love as if it is a craft we are trying to perfect, and our words are our hands and we try not to damage it too badly, but it’s hard to get good at something that leaves such a lasting imprint, and it’s so fragile. It feels like we’re trying to build a castle out of cards, or painting up-close pointillism, and not noticing you’ve gone wrong until you step way, way back and by then you don’t know if it’s too late. Nobody can teach you this.
Felxi and I are building house in minecraft and felix begtsson plays world of ear craft and craft is like arts and craft and it remainds me were mom worked. I remember waiting mom out of her office with my babysitter infront of a river.
under thy roof
no guest shall sit
nor at thy table eat a bit
no pleasant tale shall ever
be told
nor things recounted done of old
Slow type deliberate, intentionally going slower as not to feel the rush of the timer, but lose out. Craft, making intentionally creating. Working on a masterpiece, not the thrown together crap something worthwhile, how life should be lived.
1craft=Consistent Respondence At Fine Things
are the pictures in my head even worth anything
if i can’t spit them out into some physical form?
is the love in my head even worth anything
if i can’t touch you
or be with you
Ceramics was Jermaine’s craft. Glass blowing was Kathleen’s. Both Tom and Sam worked with gems and precious stones, molding them into intricate strings and circles of color for the people of fashion to adorn themselves. Charlie and Linda enjoyed working with oil paints, and I was an up and coming welder.
She had found her little niche in the artistic world years ago, setting up shop in a little-visited corner of the city. Her workshop’s sign was just a piece of paper taped to the grimy window, and it needed to be replaced every time it rained, which was often.
she crafted her heart around his stories, a beautiful partnership that was meant to last them through the long days of the christmas break. he’d laugh and his eyes would light up as he told of the time he’d fallen on his face after trying to dance under the fairy lights; she’d cut apart rows of paper and bring them back together in a collage of happiness and innocence.
Kraft habe ich genug. Kraft ist nicht das Problem. Das Problem ist eher, dass ich nicht weiß, whin mit meiner Kraft. Deswegen lasse ich sie versiegen. Deswegen verschwende ich sie für Dinge, die mich gar nicht wirklich interessieren. Ich kann nicht dranbleiben. Denn wenn ich dranbleiben würde, müsste ich wissen, an was ich dranbleiben will.
She never thought she would take up the craft of knitting, but there was so much time that she had to spend waiting for one appointment or another, that she brought along needles and yarn. Since she was worried about what the appointments would reveal, the knits and purls kept her mind off her problems when she was too worried to concentrate on reading.