Quotes About Expression

I get madder and madder on giving back what I feel.

Water Lilies' is an extension of my life. Without the woter the lilies cannot live, as I am without art.

I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers

Elle a toujours écrit en épurant de plus en plus : chaque fois un peu moins de mots et un peu plus de silences, un peu moins de cantabile et un peu plus de moderato. Elle a toujours vécu en ajoutant sans retrancher.»

La littérature est parfaitement inutile, sa seule utilité est qu'elle aide à vivre.

It matters more what's in a woman's face than what's on it.

I feel that I'm at my best as a person and that I'm coming home when I walk on to a set, or on to a stage, so if I can perform in one way or another I think I'll be okay.

Look, all I meant is...words are words. They don't matter as much as you think the do. What's important are the emotions behind them" -Josh

But that's the thing about words. They can't ever really erase other words. They can scribble over them, but they can never make them totally go away." -Autumn

Nunca hay que escribir con la concha

Un pacto tácito de frases hechas encadenadas, palabras que iban llenando el silencio, con el propósito de ni siquiera tener que hablar del silencio.

uno debería escribir en la lengua con la que piensa, con la que sueña.

De allí somos, de donde florece o da fruto cada palabra.

La forma en que nombramos plantas, flores, frutos, aun usando un mismo idioma, devela nuestro origen tanto o más que cualquier tonada. De allí somos, de donde florece o da fruto cada palabra.

lloro porque el lenguaje —como el camino que uno no elige de antemano— es una zona de riesgo que te puede hacer pasar por donde más duele.

Para escribir un diario hay que tener una seguridad del valor que tiene contar la vida propia que yo no tengo.

Perhaps the most insidious and least understood form of segregation is that of the word.

Sometimes you read something and a thought that was floating around in your veins organizes itself into the sentence that reflects it.

I tried to fit language into the shape of usefulness. The world moves through words as if the bodies the words reflect do not exist.

Do not say I if it means so little, holds the little forming no one. You are not sick, you are injured-- you ache for the rest of your life.

Hold up, did you just hear, did you just say, did you just see, did you just do that? Then the voice in your head silently tells you to take your foot off your throat because just getting along shouldn't be an ambition.

Words work as release--well-oiled doors opening and closing between intention, gesture.

To live through the days sometimes you moan like deer. Sometimes you sigh. The world says stop that. Another sigh. Another stop that. Moaning elicits laughter, sighing upsets. Perhaps each sigh is drawn into existence to pull in, pull under, who knows; truth be told, you could no more control those sighs than that which brings the sighs about.

Perhaps Mahalia, like Paul Celan, has already lived all our lives for us. Perhaps that is the definition of genius. Hegel says, "Each man hopes and believes he is better than the world which is his, but the man who is better merely expresses this same world better than the others.