Quotes About Expression

It is a sure sign of troubled minds, the habit of quotation. "Whom

He writes a good letter, to the point, neither abrupt nor circumlocutory, nor larded with flattery, nor cursory in expressions of regard.

He would like her to shorten her account, but he understands her need to tell it over, moment by moment, to say it out loud. It is like a package of words she is making, to hand to him: this is yours now.

You start out, you start talking, you don't even know what you're going to say. You don't even know your way to the end of the sentence. You don't know anything. Then suddenly you do know you have to walk blind and you walk slap into the truth.

Metaphors are good,' he said. 'I like metaphors. Metaphors don't kill people.

When it was time to write, and he took his pen in his hand, he never thought of consequences; he thought of style. I wonder why I ever bothered with sex, he thought; there's nothing in this breathing world so gratifying as an artfully placed semicolon.

With the words arrives the truth of them.

A man's power is in the half-light, in the half-seen movements of his hand and the unguessed-at expression of his face. It is the absence of facts that frightens people: the gap you open, into which they pour their fears, fantasies, desires.

how to retell exactly what had been said and done, without putting your own interpretation on it, and submit it to another judgement? It wasn't possible.

There are codes so subtle that they change their whole meaning in half a line, or in a syllable, or in a pause. . .

Very helpful, I must say. Look at them in the eye and shout, and they understand every word..." (Mr. Warbeck in Sienna, talking about local Italians.)

Words were her plague and words were her redemption.

Writing. Love is writing.

Freedom means the right of people to assemble, organize, and debate openly.

I'm one of those people who thinks that changing one's hair is the only part of the body that you can change at will.

Writing fiction is a solitary occupation but not really a lonely one. The writer's head is mobbed with characters, images and language.

The dull-hued turkey apes the gait Of lordly peacock, richly plumed; And thus the poetaster shows When he would fain his verse recite.

Man may be considered as a superior species of animal who produces philosophies and poems in about the same way a silkworm produces their cocoons and bees their hives.

Life is brief, art is long.

The chief virtue that language can have is clearness, and nothing detracts from it so much as the use of unfamiliar words.

You don´t need a reason to cry. All you need to feel the warmth that dwells in your chest.

Why is it?.. I'm so sad and so lonely. But the tears just won't come.

Yare Yare Daze.

The Killer instinct is not perceived by words, but by look.