Quotes About Expression

There is no human soul, and I am absolutely for sure seriously not going to fucking cry.

The sixth rule of Fight Club: No shirt, no shoes.

What they don't teach you in art school is never, ever to tell people you wanted to be an artist. Just so you know, for the rest of your life, people will torture you by saying how you used to love to draw when you were young. You used to love to paint. A couple drinks. A couple aspirin. Repeat.

Fuck me. I'm so tired of being me. Me beautiful. Me ugly. Blonde. Brunette. A million fucking fashion makeovers that only leave me trapped being me.

So this is why I write. Because most times, your life isn't funny the first time through. Most times, you can hardly stand it.

Days she's wasted locked up here in this room, and nothing she's done is half as good as the sketch of a chair she did while shitting her pants.

It's not that I want to get mar­ried. I ad­mire guys who can com­mit to a tat­too.

Ideally, you should be combining gesture, action, and expression with your dialogue.

Your every emotion goes right over the top with a big audience. It's either laughter or tears, with no in-between. Those tigers in zoos, they must have a big opera all the time.

You have to talk, otherwise your head turns into a cemetery.

do not write to be liked. Write to be remembered.

Slang is the writer's palette of colors.

Little voice gives us the facts. Big voice gives us the meaning—or at least a character's subjective interpretation of the events.

People don't practice their smiles nearly enough, so when they most need to look happy they're not fooling anyone.

The first week I was here, a girl got canned for humming an Erasure song while she was churning butter. It's like, yeah, Erasure is historic, but not historic enough.

Your handwriting. The way you walk. Which china pattern you choose. It's all giving you away. Everything is a self-potrait. Everything is a diary.

Give me a voice. Flash. Give me a face.

Art never comes from happiness

The best fiction rises – yes, like a phoenix – out of the ashes of people's sad, true disasters. We write in order to repeat the past.

It's amazing what a woman will read into it if you by accident say, I love you. Ten times out of ten, a guy means I love this.

With a gun barrel pressed between you're teeth, you speak only in vowels.

As if she ought to know better than to scream and bleed in public.

Solitude is a natural place for a writer to be.

The mentalis, the corrugator, all those little muscles of the face, those are the first things you learn in art school anatomy. After that, you can tell a fake smile because the risorius and platysma muscles pull the lower lip down and out, squaring it and exposing the lower teeth. Just for the record, knowing when people are only pretending to like you isn't such a great skill to have.