Quotes About Expression

The painter had achieved what we would all like to do: capture time and make it stand still

It was great fun to think of myself as a doll I could bring to life.

All these years there had been a Tupperware container of bad language in her head, and now she opened it and all those crisp, crunchy words were fresh and lovely, ready to be used.

It was interesting how you could say things when you where walking that you might not otherwise have said with the pressure of eye contact across a table.

The words "I´m sorry" felt like an insult. You said "I´m sorry" when you bumped against someone´s supermarket trolley. There need to be bigger words.

Shut up," said Madeline. "I thought we didn't say 'shut up' in our house." "Fuck off, then," said Madeline.

Two musicians could play the same notes and sound entirely different. Intonation was everything.

Their uptight concerns about what other people thought seemed like such a waste. Why had they been so careful and contained with their love?

It was unfortunate the way adults had to repress their true feelings.

Your children see!" screamed Bonnie. Her face was ugly with rage. "We see! We fucking see!

It looked like girls were controlled by their feelings but the opposite was true. Girls had excellent control of their feelings. They spun them around like batons: Now I'm crying! Now I'm laughing! Who knows what I'll do next! Not you! A boy's emotions were like baseball bats that blindsided him.

If her mother had been observing this interaction, she'd tell Clementine she was wrong, that she needed to keep talking, to say everything that was on her mind, to communicate, to leave no possibility for misinterpretation. If her father were here, he'd put his finger to his lips and say, "Shh." Clementine settled for two words. "I'm sorry," she said.

In case she can't get what's in her head and her heart on the canvas. Maybe she's afraid of being afraid. That she'll be so paralyzed by fear she won't do a thing, she'll just stand there with her paintbrush, feeling like a fraud.

It looked like girls were controlled by their feelings but the opposite was true. Girls had excellent control of their feelings. They spun them around like batons: Now I'm crying! Now I'm laughing! Who know what I'll do next! Not you! A boy's emotions were like baseball bats that blindsided them.

Bleh," she said out loud.

Janie eating. Janie sulking. Janie with her friends. Including him. That boy. His head turned away from the camera, looking at Janie, as if she'd just said something smart and funny. What did she say? Every time, she always wondered that. What did you just say, Janie? Rachel pressed her fingertip to his grinning, freckled face, and watched her mildly arthritic, age-spotted hand curl into a fist.

Listeria, wisteria. Ha. Funny words. She

It was interesting how you could say things when you were walking that you might not otherwise have said with the pressure of eye contact across a table.

I thought we didn't say 'shut up' in our house." "Fuck off, then,

She reminds herself that everyone has thoughts they wouldn't care to share with the world. Many people have quite perverse thoughts about doing things with animals or fruit, or being spanked by nurses. The difference, of course, is that their thoughts are securely locked away behind bland faces, whereas Sophie's are always in danger of being revealed to all in a sudden flood of colour.

In their wedding photos, they both have the blank-eyed, sedated look of recent trauma victims.

Not the angry, demanding cry of a child who wants attention, or the startled cry of a child who has hurt himself. This was a grown-up type of crying: involuntary, soft, sad, weeping.

She'd always known her reaction to that night had been too big, or perhaps too small. She hadn't ever cried. She hadn't told anyone. She'd swallowed it whole and pretended it meant nothing, therefore it had come to mean everything.

It seemed like everything he was feeling was right there in his eyes—a hint of nerves, a touch of laughter. No