iris

The biggest spur to my interest in art came when I played van Gogh in the biographical film Lust For Life. The role affected me deeply. I was haunted by this talented genius who took his own life, thinking he was a failure. How terrible to paint pictures and feel that no one wants them. How awful it would be to write music that no one wants to hear. Books that no one wants to read. And how would you like to be an actor with no part to play, and no audience to watch you. Poor Vincent__e wrestled with his soul in the wheat field of Auvers-sur-Oise, stacks of his unsold paintings collecting dust in his brother's house. It was all too much for him, and he pulled the trigger and ended it all. My heart ached for van Gogh the afternoon that I played that scene. As I write this, I look up at a poster of his "Irises"__ poster from the Getty Museum. It's a beautiful piece of art with one white iris sticking up among a field of blue ones. They paid a fortune for it, reportedly $53 million. And poor Vincent, in his lifetime, sold only one painting for 400 francs or $80 dollars today. This is what stimulated my interest in buying works of art from living artists. I want them to know while they are alive that I enjoy their paintings hanging on my walls, or their sculptures decorating my garden

My lifesaver has always been the hazel iris of your soul. It never fails. When the world plunges me deep into the darkness, one look from you is all it takes to save me.

It's better to be the hero of your own story than to become the villain of someone else's.

In a swamp, as in meditation, you begin to glimpse how elusive, how inherently insubstantial, how fleeting our thoughts are, our identities. There is magic in this moist world, in how the mind lets go, slips into sleepy water, circles and nuzzles the banks of palmetto and wild iris, how it seeps across dreams, smears them into the upright world, rots the wood of treasure chests, welcomes the body home.

White IrisThe iris danced acrossthe ancient Grecian skiesgliding with her embossedsatiny milken sides ...

Frank stared at her. "But you throw Ding Dongs at monsters."Iris looked horrified. "Oh, they're not Ding Dongs."She rummaged under the counter and brought out a package of chocolate covered cakes that looked exactly like Ding Dongs. "These are gluten-free, no-sugar-added, vitamin-enriched, soy-free, goat-milk-and-seaweed-based cupcake simulations.""All natural!" Fleecy chimed in."I stand corrected." Frank suddenly felt as queasy as Percy.

And I don't want the world to see me, Cause I don't think that they'd understand.When everything's made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am.

I've found peace here at the co-op. You could stay with us, if you want. Become a ROFLcopter.

Hope," Frank grumbled. "I'd rather have a few good weasels.

[Iris] squeezed his hand. "Don't lose hope, Frank. Rainbows always stand for hope.