Quotes About Expression

The art world is controlled by a handful of people in New York. Most of them are idiots who think a screened-in piece of ham swarming with flies constitutes expression. There are many fraudulent aspects to American life, but the art world is probably the most egregious.

We don't care what people say, rock and roll is here to stay.

Maggie's face darkened, as

This dissent isn't going to suppress itself.

One, for instance, boasted a lovingly detailed watercolour of a dead robin, while on another a row of comical frogs paraded beneath umbrellas and, on another still, insects danced in a circle, wielding musical instruments and seemingly drunk.

Artists. If the Emperor has his way, you'll be the first ones targeted for eradication.

if he can write a book at all, a writer cannot do it by peeping over his shoulder at somebody else, any more than a woman can have a baby by watching some other woman have one. It is a genital process, and all of its stages are intra-abdominal;

They spoke quickly, as though they were saying things that scalded their mouths, and had to be cooled with spit.

The Star-Spangled Banner,'" she scoffed. "I never did like that old lying, lollygagging, hypocritical, warring-ass drinking song. With the bombs bursting in air and so forth.

but all your 'sorrys' are gone when a person dies... That's why you have to say all your 'sorrys' and 'I love yous' while a person is living, because tomorrow isn't promised.

Giving words to ideas was too dangerous in their world. When Poppa did give words to something, though, it was for a reason. It had weight.

She wore a flowered blue dress of the type whores naturally favored, and that thing was so tight that when she moved, the daisies got all mixed up with the azaleas. She walked like a warm room full of smoke.

The bands were horrible outfits that sounded like owls hooting. Moshe watched in puzzlement as these Americans danced with clumsy satisfaction at the moans and groans of these boneless, noise-producing junk mongers, their boring humpty-dumpty sounds landing on the dance floor with all the power of empty peanut shells tossed in the air.

It occurred to me then that you is everything you are in this life at every moment. And that includes loving somebody. If you can't be your own self, how can you love somebody? How can you be free?

See, dance changes people. Dancing makes you free. It makes people happy.

I was in a quandary, and my tears busted forth again, which worked out perfect, for it moved them all to my favor, and I seen right off that crying and squalling was part of the game of being a girl.

Freedom to be oneself is all very well; the greater freedom is not to be oneself.

Our little party Got under way as best it could. The twigs Unclenched, the greedy rosebuds caked with smut. The ill-knit creatures, now in hues Of sunstroke, mulberry, white of clown, Yellow of bile, bruise-blacks-and-blues, Stumped outward, waving matchstick arms, Colliding, poking, hurt, in tears

I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions

I love the swing and swirl of words as they tangle with human emotions.

You can only be you, and it is not until you reclaim your unique self that you can be truly great.

There is a man, playing a violin, and the strings are the nerves in his own arm...

I know why Jesus wept, motherfucker.

There was something wonderful, though, in doing useless work. You could turn it into a sort of art.