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"For that reason you can't write with music playing, and anyone who says he can is either writing badly, or not listening to the music, or lying. You need to hear what you're writing, and for that you need silence."
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"Treating your audience like thieves is absurd. Anyone who chooses to listen to our music becomes a collaborator."
"There are so few directors who are musical who appreciate music."
"I can see me continuing to make the best music I can, and let the chips fall where they may."
"88% of what we call good songs aren't really good. They merely remind us of a good time we once had."
"I just really longed to do music that reflected me as an adult and music that I thought was for other adults."
"Anything I do has to be directly related to my music. If it isn't, I don't really see a point to it."
"So all of the music had reference, or is inspired by something of the dharma that I've come in contact with."
Explore more quotes by Philip Pullman
"What I do say is that I can write verse, and that the writing of verse in strict form is the best possible training for writing good prose."
"Tirelessly they flew on and on, and tirelessly she kept pace. She felt a fierce joy possessing her, that she could command these immortal presences. And she rejoiced in her blood and flesh, in the rough pine bark she felt next to her skin, in the beat of her heart and the life of all her senses, and in the hunger she was feeling now, and in the presence of her sweet-voiced bluethroat dA mon, and in the earth below her and the lives of every creature, plant and animal both; and she delighted in being of the same substance as them, and in knowing that when she died her flesh would nourish other lives as they had nourished her."
"I had passed through the entire British education system studying literature, culminating in three years of reading English at Oxford, and they'd never told me about something as basic as the importance of point of view in fiction!"
"When you're young you do think that things last forever unfortunately they don't Lyra."
"And Will knew what it was to see his dA mon. As she flew down to the sand, he felt his heart tighten and release in a way he never forgot. Sixty years and more would go by, and as an old man he would still feel some sensations as bright and fresh as ever: Lyra's fingers putting the fruit between his lips under the gold-and-silver trees; her warm mouth pressing against his; his dA mon being torn from his unsuspecting breast as they entered the world of the dead; and the sweet rightfulness of her coming back to him at the edge of the moonlight dunes."
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