Quotes About Expression

I had no name for that particular hue of orange, other than unfortunate.

Are the two of you quite done with your sweet nothings? Because I might vomit.

Her eyes felt swollen, and she knew she looked a mess, but sometimes...sometimes the emotions were just too big to hold.

Oh hell no. Guys don't talk about that crap." "You're serious." "Really." "What do you talk about?" Shane looked at her as if she were insane. "You know. Stuff. We're not girls. We don't talk about our feelings. I mean, not to other guys." Claire rolled her eyes and said, "Fine, be emotionally stunted losers; I don't care.

His divine wisdom can kiss my common arse

Must we argue word choice? Now?

Now, whom are we here to conspire against?' 'Poetry,' I said. 'Namely, Romeo's poetry.' 'Is it that bad?

He pulled out his personal journal and pen. Jess understood the impulse, all too well, to spill out the bile and hurt into ink, where no one could see it.

Parting is such sweet sorrow, according to the bards. I wouldn't know, myself. I never parted anyone." He mimed ripping someone in half, then got an odd expression on his face. "Well. Just the one time, really. Doesn't count.

You don't just have ink in your blood. It's in your bones. Your skeleton's black with it.

Oh, like you don't throw a hissy every time somebody trips your angst switch!

Dangerous, Claire thought. Really dangerous. Hannah stared at her cousin, her expression tight and controlled, and then nodded. 'OK,' she said. 'You do what you want, Lisa, but you be careful, all right?

If you write what you yourself sincerely think and feel and are interested in, the chances are very high that you will interest other people as well.

Writing is a lonely occupation at best. Of course there are stimulating and even happy associations with friends and colleagues, but during the actual work of creation the writer cuts himself off from all others and confronts his subject alone. He* moves into a realm where he has never been before — perhaps where no one has ever been. It is a lonely place, even a little frightening.

S]he leans into this guy and rocks her head like I'm making this music for her, when if I could, I would take it all away and give her as much silence as she's given me pain.

The mosh pit will reveal all the answers. The mosh pit never lies. -Norah, Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist

There. I've said everything I wanted to say without actually having to use the words please stay

I'm liking that I can throw any kind of sentence at her without worrying it's too out there.

I particularly loved the adjective bookish, which I found other people used about as often as ramrod or chum or teetotaler.

I can be a badass DJ when I want, but I am also an insufferable music snob.

There's the usual suspects in there, Green Day and The Clash and The Smiths, yeah, but there's also Ella and Frank, even Dino, some Curtis Mayfield and Minor Threat and Dusty Springfield and Belle & Sebastian, and as I flip through his musical life, getting to know his tastes, I must acknowledge that not only am I not frigid, but I also may be multi-orgasmic.

Who's Jessie? My Yugo You have a name for your Yugo? Please don't tell me you're one of those guys who also names his dick. Unfortunately, I've yet to find the perfect name for mine, so it's in this netherworld of nameless identity right now.

One of the failures of cellular communication is that tiredness often comes across as sadness.

I am listening and I am listening because what I'm playing isn't something I'm thinking about, it's something I'm feeling all over.