Quotes About Expression

Teach me to speak the language of men.

Magnifique! ejaculated the Countess de Coude, beneath her breath.

Sometimes, when the music calls, you just gotta dance.

been extolling for the last twenty minutes, then fixed me with a polite stare. "Is something wrong?" I opened my mouth

None but a poet can write a tragedy. For tragedy is nothing less than pain transmuted into exaltation by the alchemy of poetry.

Very few great artists feel the giant agony of the world.

Poetry is the deification of reality.

Poetry and art are the breath of life to her.

She threw back her head with a laugh that made her chins ripple like little waves.

You are an artist and I happen to be the bit of colour you are using today. It's a part of your cleverness to be able to produce premeditated effects extemporaneously.

You are an artist and I happen to be the bit of color you are using today.

Another unsettling element in modern art is that common symptom of immaturity, the dread of doing what has been done before.

There are only four great arts: music, painting, sculpture, and ornamental pastry - architecture being the least banal derivative of the latter.

In reality they all lived in a kind of hieroglyphic world, where the real thing was never said or done or even thought, but only represented by a set of arbitrary signs;

She would not have put herself out so much to say so little.

Original! We're all as like each other as those dolls cut out of the same folded paper. We're like patterns stenciled on a wall. Can't you and I strike out for ourselves, May?

You mustn't tell your dreams. Miss Testvalley says nothing bores people so much as being told other people's dreams. Nan said nothing, but an iron gate seemed to clang shut in her - the gate that was so often slammed by careless hands. As if anyone could be bored by such dreams as hers!

She felt the pitiful inadequacy of this, and understood, with a sense of despair, that in her inability to express herself she must give him an impression of coldness and reluctance; but she could not help it.

bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate...happens to me on a daily basis!

The words came out slowly, haltingly, as if they had cost him a struggle. Nan had noticed before now that anger was too big a garment for him; it always hung on him in uneasy folds.

He turned to me, full of a terrifying benevolence.

he plunged out into the winter night bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate

The allegation that English girls had no conversation must be true; but theirs was a SPEAKING silence. Their eyes and smiles were eloquent! She hoped it would teach their own girls that they need not chatter like magpies.

La lectura debería ser un acto de creación, como el escribir.