Quotes About Expression

There's this feeling you get when you write a really good, true sentence or paragraph or scene, and it makes you feel invincible, as if you can do anything. It feels like a superpower, and in that moment no one can touch you. You're the best there is. That's how you make me feel, Jeremiah Crew. Like I'm the best there is.

Write (this includes any thoughts I don't want to have—write them out fast so they're out of me and on the paper).

On my bed, I sit down and flip through the cut-up books one by one, reading all the cut-up passages.

Writing is so difficult that writers, having had their hell on earth, will escape all punishment hereafter.' 

I like to think that the colors and sounds and words have nothing to do with him, that they're all me and my own brilliant, complicated, buzzing, humming, soaring roaring diving, godlike brain" -Finch

Her eyes are warm, but her mouth is sad.

The wall is a place to keep track of thoughts, as fast as they come, and remember them when they go away. Anything interesting or weird or even halfway inspired goes up there.

You have you let the tears come," she always says. "Because if you don't, they'll come out eventually – maybe not as tears, but as anger or something else.

I wanted to write something tough, hard, sad, but funny.

I have a section for New Nameless Web Magazine.

This girl," I tell Rachel. "That's not what I look like. That's not who I am." I have a feeling Rachel will get this because she pretended to be straight all through high school, even though she figured out she was a lesbian when she was in eighth grade. I say it again, "That's not me." Her eyes light up. "Great. Let's see if we can find her.

You know, that's what you've been doing in a way--coming out. Coming out of your room. Coming out of your house. Coming out of your shell.

Sometimes you got to just feel, especially when it comes to music. Notes, scales, they just get in the way.

Who cares for Algebra? Who delights in solving math? I only want to live my life Along the creative path.

Written on the wall behind them was: 'Blues for the body, food for the soul.

At times such as this, it becomes more important for art to survive.

Writing was what I did best, better than being a daughter or girlfriend or sister. Writing was me.

He throws his arms out over his head, fists clenched, and shouts: 'Open your eyes and look at me! I'm right bloody here!' He shouts all the things he hates and wants to change until his voice is hoarse. Then he nods over at me. 'Your turn.

Escrever. (...) Ao longo das linhas, aceitar todo e qualquer pensamento (não tenha medo deles, independente do que sejam).

See, I excel at other, more important things—guitar, sex, and consistently disappointing my dad, to name a few.

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it

He did look at his photos and decided he didn't like any of them: all that black and white, all that same old stuff, characters trying to be characters. He said, Are you trying to be a character?

Why do guys love to fart?" "They're expressing themselves.

Write books only if you are going to say in them the things you would never dare confide to anyone.