Quotes About Expression

Apparently it takes, like, forty-seven muscles to frown. Flippin' the bird' s a hell of a lot easier.

Even trained for years as they all had been in precision of language, what words could you use which would give another the experience of sunshine?

He knew that there was no quick comfort for emotions like those. They were deeper and they did not need to be told. They were felt.

You can say a lot in a little time, if you stick to words of one syllable.

When you can't do something truly useful, you tend to vent the pent up energy in something useless but available, like snappy dressing.

I need words that mean more than they mean, words not just with height and width, but depth and weight and, and other dimensions that I cannot even name.

For the girl without words, there is laughter for what is light, gesture for want, and tears for all that is dark. There is not much more. Names are nothing but extravagance.

Je suis un artiste, et mon Å"uvre, c'est Moi.

En mon coeur idiot, l'idiotie chante à gorge déployée.

A smile appeared upon her face as if she'd taken it directly from her handbag and pinned it there.

The marriage tie becomes possessed of a history and takes to itself traditions. This history and these traditions form a great fund, to which changing conditions and growing imagination constantly add. And the traditions, more especially, bear heavily upon the individual, overmastering his natural expression of the love instinct and forcing him to an artificial expression of that love instinct. He loves, not as his savage forbears loved, but as his group loves.

Show me a man with a tattoo and I'll show you a man with an interesting past.

Love is the sum of all the arts, as it is the reason for their existence.

Avoid the unhappy ending, the harsh, the brutal, the tragic, the horrible -- if you care to see in print things you write. (In this connection don't do as I do, but do as I say.)

Then one can't make a living out of poetry? Certainly not. What fool expects to? Out of rhyming, yes.

I'd rather sing one wild song and burst my heart with it, than live a thousand years watching my digestion and being afraid of the wet.

Too much is written by the men who can't write about the men who do write.

O how wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul. The intellect of man sits enshrined visibly upon his forehead and in his eye; and the heart of man is written upon his countenance. But the soul reveals itself in the voice only, as God revealed himself to the prophet in the still small voice, and in a voice from the Burning Bush. The soul of man is audible, not visible. A sound alone betrays the flowing of the eternal fountain invisible to man.

Music is the universal language of mankind -- poetry their universal pastime and delight.

A young critic is like a boy with a gun; he fires at every living thing he sees. He thinks only of his own skill, not of the pain he is giving.

It frequently happens that where the second line is sublime, the third, in which he [Lucan] meant to rise still higher, is perfect bombast.

Some people talk to themselves, and some people write, and somehow society has decided that one gets committed and one gets a paycheck.

Nise: Bien lo merece Eliodoro, griego poeta divino. Celia: ¿Poeta? Pues parecióme prosa. Nise: También hay poesía en prosa.

You like the way I dress The way I wear my hair Show me off to all your friends Baby, I don't care Just as long as you tell them who I am Tell them I'm the one that made you give a damn