Ownership Loss Quotes

Once you put songs out, they're not yours anymore. They're everyone else's.

The good old days, when each idea had an owner, are gone forever.

You have total control of it, and when you're an actor, you're subject to production design and costumes and directors and studio choices and producer choices, but when you're writing it, you're creating your own little world in your head, peopled with your little characters. No one is in there monkeying with it, at least not at first - though they will. With this and the other projects I'm working on, it'll have to be given away, and it'll have to be someone else's property.

I hardly ever listen to any of our old stuff now. Once the songs have been recorded and put on to vinyl they become someone else's entertainment, not mine.

With the cloud, you don't own anything. You already signed it away.

Selling one's book to Hollywood is rather like selling someone your house. After it's sold, it isn't yours anymore. They can paint it a different color, tear it down and build something new, or do anything they want.

Before our albums are released I feel like we still own it, that we have control over our music. But once it's out there in the world it's no longer ours.

After a song comes out, it doesn't remain yours.

At no time are we ever in such complete possession of a journey, down to its last nook and cranny, as when we are busy with preparations for it. After that, there remains only the journey itself, which is nothing but the process through which we lose our ownership of it.

Once a song's out there, it's no longer mine. And that's the whole purpose of music: to belong to people.

The Atlas belongs to the Lenbachhaus in Munich - it's long since ceased to belong to me. Occasionally I run across it somewhere, and I think it's interesting because it looks different each time.

The decision to go into debt alters the course and condition of your life. You no longer own it. You are owned.

The worker puts his life into the object; but now it no longer belongs to him, it belongs to the object.

She looks at the swings, and I can see she’s imagining what they’d look like if the kids weren’t there. The guilt of this holds her down momentarily. It appears to be there constantly. Never far away, despite her love for them. I realize that nothing belongs to her anymore and she belongs to everything.

I no longer own or control the businesses which I have spent my life building up.