Quotes About Expression

Bad taste is simply saying the truth before it should be said.

Look, I really don't want to wax philosophic, but I will say that if you're alive, you've got to flap your arms and legs, you got to jump around a lot, you got to make a lot of noise, because life is the very opposite of death. And therefore, as I see it, if you're quiet, you're not living. You've got to be noisy, or at least your thoughts should be noisy, colorful and lively.

My mind is a raging torrent, flooded with rivulets of thought cascading into a waterfall of creative alternatives.

Comedy is protest. It's "I beg to differ," if you're fancy, or if you're Jewish, "Hey, listen to this!

Farts are a repressed minority. The mouth gets to say all kinds of things, but the other place is supposed to keep quiet. But maybe our lower colons have something interesting to say. Maybe we should listen to them. Farts are human, more human than a lot of people I know. I think we should bring them out of the water closet and into the parlor, and that's what I did in Blazing Saddles.

The survival of my own ideas may not be as important as a condition I might create for others' ideas to be realized.

Un artista, uno scrittore, non crea le sue opere per firmarle, ma per metterle al mondo.

Lui non si vergognava di lasciarsi guardare dentro. Non aveva mai considerato disdicevole esporre al mondo le sue viscere, i suoi impulsi, le sue piaghe, le sue gioie. Vivere senza confini, senza innalzare barriere.

When you're an artist, there's always a moment in your life when you think you're not inspired and instead of doing things and instead of travel and instead of falling in love, you're just depressed, so you don't move, so you don't change. So you're not inspired.

The perfect life would be to have an amazing part every year and to spend all my free time to just write.

I miss the Stella girls telling me what I am. That I'm sweet and placid and accommodating and loyal and nonthreatening and good to have around. And Mia. I want her to say, "Frankie, you're silly, you're lazy, you're talented, you're passionate, you're restrained, you're blossoming, you're contrary." I want to be an adjective again. But I'm a noun. A nothing. A nobody. A no one.

He bursts out laughing. It's short, as if he regretted allowing me to make him laugh, but the satisfaction's already mine.

Tom always did anger well. Hid it well, but showed it even better

We don't even love each other. I do a bit, you know. You do what a bit? You know. Like you...whatever...love you a bit. I think I kind of love you too.

They were uninhibited when it came to music and sometimes the three of them had a tune inside their head that no one else could hear, and tonight it's there between them and they're fucking the space with their bodies.

She comes from the school of getting it out of your system, whereas he comes from the school of stewing over it.

You don't use words like 'kind of interested' to describe how I feel about you.

And I hear nothing because it's like the volume button has been turned down on our lives and nobody has anything to say anymore." "I want to be an adjective again. But I am a noun.

They either don't get it or don't want to. Maybe I'm just not selling it well.

Our voices sound kinder in the skin of our own language.

I spent the whole morning looking at him. He looked at Mama. Mama looked at me. Then he would look at me. I would look at Mama. She would look at him. In different circumstances, I'd be amused.

I like looking at his face when he speaks. Sometimes he spit, actually he spits all the time, but I think that's passionate. He loves words and he rolls them around in his mouth like a luscious plum, slobbering on the sides, and then he'll use his hands, touching his mouth as if he's taking the words out throwing them to us.

Just 'Your mother.'" But it doesn't work if girls say it to each other," she continues. "You have to have a penis for it to affect you in such a way.

It's shit punk.[..] That doesn't mean I think punk is shit [...] it means that when someone plays unk ina shit-like manner, it's excruciating. So either find yourself yourself a good punk band or move on, Tom. Because it kills me to say this, but you're actually a tiny bit gifted.