Results 21 to 40 of 254 for stemmed:money
[...] “What’s Miss Bowman sending us money for?” I asked Jane. [...] Money was involved with both people, since my Miss Bowman had lent me the money to go through art school in New York City. [...]
(I should add that when I realized what the check for the $1,000 meant, I had strange initial feelings of guilt and of rebellion, of being now in a pretty vulnerable position in some strange way, even though the money would help with hospital charges. [...]
(The large numeral TWO is stamped in red on the money order, as the upper limit of its worth. [...] “It’s a duplicate [mentioned in test] of a money order,” Jane wrote later. [...] The money order has no border. Multiplicity of design, a very general appellation, could refer to the many numbers on the money order I suppose. [...]
(See page 277 for a tracing of the money order used in tonight’s 9th envelope test. [...] They sent the samples but returned the 25¢ money order. [...] I also enclosed the money order itself between two pieces of thin Bristol, to make it difficult for Jane to unwittingly pick up anything by feeling the shape of the object within the envelopes.
[...] Pendulum tells me the side bothers because I’m not working on Mass Reality, which will get us money, whereas Through My Eyes is a less-certain project, would take longer, and the time I spend on it is time lost on Mass Reality. [...]
(“The pendulum says I don’t think I’ll get money for Through My Eyes, that it’s a waste of time, that I don’t want to work on it. [...]
[...] As the evening progressed we became involved in some pretty heated and involved discussions about Three Mile Island, man’s greed for money, his basic good intent, and related issues. [...]
(“Tonight the pendulum says just what it did yesterday—that I feel poorly because I estimated a high income when we don’t have it in sight; that I think I should be working on Mass Reality instead of Through My Eyes because the former will bring in sure money; that I think I don’t contribute enough financially; that I feel lousy because I want something definite to work on —that at this time I’m not contributing enough. [...]
[...] To her it is a weapon that you have to force money from others, and a weapon you will not use. The word weapon is important here, for she believes that money must be forced from some unfriendly source.
[...] You were trying to punish yourself for not making more money as an artist, since you still felt her old demands.
The tremor represented guilt here, but also a threat, for you thought: before I will do this full time for money, my hand would fail. [...]
Comes to me today that years ago I got scared when I thought anyhow that Rob’s parents “shit on us” when we were broke; before I hadn’t worried about money—just writing . [...] I know I determined to get money and through my work—so we could work—(while seeing to it that I could drop jobs); and started the anxieties and body habits which then... [...]
[...] Ruburt should not forget the idea of some money from his painting, or you from writing. [...] Otherwise you are saying that money and abundance come in this corner of my yard. [...]
[...] Do not insist for example that money come to you only through painting or writing, or that this power show itself only in health; and remember always you own relationship with others, so that the energy that flows through you and is used by you to your benefit, is also free to flow through you to others.
Using such abilities to obtain money only can be highly disadvantageous however in the long run, particularly if there is no thought given to the help of others. [...]
[...] When work in terms of making money was applied to writing, then divisions occurred in his attitude as to what might be salable and bring money, and therefore fall into the work category—and what might not be salable but highly creative regardless.
Now: when Ruburt worked out for money his ideas and beliefs concerning work were divorced from his ideas about creativity.
[...] Working alone had a magic, yet while money came from someplace else—working out—the weight of financial desire did not rest upon creativity.
[...] Creative work was his joy, but that creativity also had more and more connotations that applied to work and money.
When he felt you both needed money, the work aspects were magnified. [...] Work must bring money in that context.
[...] Later when money became involved, then for a while fun writing had to come after working hours.
[...] Yet creativity kept escaping the work definition—in my books, Seven and Sumari; and he even felt guilty about Sumari poetry in work hours, for it might not fulfill work’s requirements, produce money and so forth.
[...] In one way he will not be making as much money as he could if he insisted upon changes in the contract. [...] The book will be an important one, and in the overall the money difference will not be great enough to tip the scales. [...]
The relationship with Frederick Fell will be a good one, although the present contract reflects the publisher’s caution, as well as the money already received reflects an impulsive belief in Ruburt on the publisher’s part.
[...] See an envelope marked with painting money and see it stuffed full of painting money that you have received from your paintings. [...]
[...] (Pause.) Do not say “so-and-so will buy such-and-such a painting, he has the money,” if there is any touch of accusation in the statement “He has money.” [...]
[...] He sent out the thoughts with full confidence, but in almost a playful manner, thinking merely of extra money.
First of all, because you are the eldest, and because of your father’s position, because you were making good money as a young man, Loren braced himself against your situation at that time. You were the one starting out making money. [...]
[...] To some extent, in certain terms, you have upset both of your brothers, and your younger brother’s comments concerning money were directly related to two events in your life.
(While taking a drive to the drugstore on Sunday, my brother Dick told me he felt he “didn’t have much” as far as money was concerned. [...]
[...] For Ruburt to make money, to become known, puts this same kind of burden upon them, you see, of understanding.
(“Connection with a note, and money.” As stated I ordered the plates by mail, enclosing a money order in payment, on December 3,1965. [...] To help the bureau check I enclosed the number from the money order stub, mentioned the amount of the money order, etc.
Connection with a note, and money. [...]
[...] I had ordered my 1966 license plates by mail, on December (twelve) 3rd (three), and had the money order stub with me in case it was necessary to show a record of payment.
[...] After all, we do have money; money also is due from her father’s estate, royalties, Rich Bed eventually, and the sale of paperback rights by Prentice-Hall; ESP class also helps—Jane said she enjoys the class. [...]
(Therefore I will make a harder effort to do both my art and to make it available to others and to get money with it, to broaden its communicative necessities—this I am perfectly willing to do once I understand its necessity. [...]
In his own way your father was saying “Since you do not trust my creativity I will deny you its benefits, even if I deny myself its benefits”—this to your mother; and you picked up a taboo: you could make money on art as long as you felt it was not really (underlined) creative—that is, commercial. [...]
Now Ruburt did follow through here with your car, and he simply saw you paying the last of the money, without any idea of where the money was coming from, but believing it would be there while not draining your own account.
[...] Note that the money affair by-passed entirely the question of insurance money. I hadn’t been thinking of the insurance money at all.
(Long pause.) You had your own experiences last evening: your foreknowledge of your friend’s phone call, and the unorthodox (long pause) knowledge about the money — and those two events happened because you did indeed want another small assurance of the mind’s capabilities despite the official concepts of the mind, by which you are so often surrounded.
The immediate money resulting with the contracts served as financial reinforcement at a time when you and Ruburt needed it. [...] So does Jane, I think.) Ruburt was worried about money in the bank then—not six months or a year hence with royalties. [...]
[...] But many put off spending more money, say, for a hardcover book, because this would involve a commitment involving the ideas themselves.
Many also will not spend money for a hardcover unless they have first found the book valuable enough through reading the paperbacks.