Quotes About Expression

Everybody you meet is an "artist" who has made a similar creation.

language controls our thinking.

I am not a slow writer, I am not a fast writer . . . I am a half-fast writer.

So let's consider other factors or qualities that ought to—but generally don't—count for much in making a male a "real" man, factors that many men keep in the shadows: vulnerability, empathy, emotional transparency and literacy, the capacity for relational intimacy—all qualities more commonly associated with being female than male.

Mary sat, quiet and attentive and blank. It wasn't like talking to a dumb seventh-grader, it was like talking to a pancake.

I took some time to evaluate them, and concluded that fashionable dress was heavily dependent on who was wearing it. I

Suki and I danced a

Anger doesn't have to be expressed. It is enough to know that you're angry, and know why, and not lie to yourself about it.

that called itself the jazz sound, but

Susan smiled the smile she always smiled when you knew she hadn't the slightest interest in what you were saying, and she knew it, and she knew you knew it.

He do that with me, too," Susan said. "It drives me fucking crazy." "Gee," I said, "I was liking it better when we were talking about Hawk's problems." Susan smiled.

Tony's patois kept getting broader as we talked. Like Hawk, he seemed able to turn it on and off. "Sho 'nuff," he said.

Words can," Susan said. "And tone of voice. You're just so goddamned autonomous that you won't explain yourself to anybody.

Their smiles were cracking. Glass is brittle.

It's all right, he said, wondering at the same time why there were no better words, why there never are any better words to answer fear and grief and loneliness.

It's all right," he said, wondering at the same time why there were no better words, why there never are any better words to answer fear and grief and loneliness.

It is the glory and good of Art That Art remains the one way possible Of speaking truth - to mouths like mine, at least.

What does it all mean, poet? Well, Your brains beat into rhythm, you tell What we felt only; you expressed You hold things beautiful the best, And pace them in rhyme so, side by side. 'Tis something, nay 'tis much: but then, Have you yourself what's best for men? Are you—-poor, sick, old ere your time—- Nearer one whit your own sublime Than we who never have turned a rhyme? Sing, riding's a joy! For me, I ride.

There is to truer truth attainable to man than comes of music.

I heard this drop and drop like rain outside Fast-falling through the darkness while she spoke...

This: no artist lives and loves, that longs not Once, and only once, and for one only, (Ah, the prize!) to find his love a language

A blow with a word strikes deeper than a blow with a sword.

The beautiful part about writing is you don't have to get it right the first time, unlike, say, a brain surgeon.

They tell you to do your thing but they don't mean it. They don't want you to do your thing, not unless it happens to be their thing, too.