Quotes About Expression

Poetry is a way of coming to know the realness of things; fiction is a way of coming to know the world of relationships; nonfiction is a way of coming to know the world of the mind.

Some writers write to escape reality. Others write to understand it. But the best writers write in order to take possession of reality, and so transform it.

The Local Paper here asked that me books be banned........THE HIGHEST PRAISE for an Irish writer.

I think more people should shoot newspaper editors...it might improve the press

Don't be sorry for that. Be sorry that you made so happy. That's what hurts, woman. That you made me so happy.

but a kiss is not a declaration of love, xxx , no matter how much you enjoy it - Joanna Rouzrokh

They're just cattle," Bacon said if anyone complained; but cattle did not sing laments.

If we're all aggressive, obedient solders [sic], who's going to write the poems and play the blues and go on anti-war protest marches?

mustache, a face which

Exhaló un suspiro tan profundo y triste».

But the rest are even scared to open up and laugh. You know, that's the first thing that got me about this place, that there wasn't anybody laughing. I haven't heard a real laugh since I came through that door, do you know that? Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing.

He who walks out of step hears another drum.

More was revealed in a human face than a human being can bear face to face.

I'd see him do things that didn't fit with his face or hands, things like painting a picture at OT with real paints on a blank paper with no lines or numbers anywhere on it to tell him where to paint, or like writing letters to somebody in a beautiful flowing hand. How could a man who looked like him paint pictures or write letters to people, or be upset and worried like I saw him once when he got a letter back?

I can see the…seams where they're put together. And, almost, see the apparatus inside them take the words I just said and try to fit the words in here and there, this place and that, and when they find the words don't have any place ready-made where they'll fit, the machinery disposes of the words like they weren't even spoken.

turns me on so loud it's like no sound, everybody yelling at me hands over their ears from behind a glass wall, faces working around in talk circles but no sound from the mouths. my sound soaks up all other sound.

The more he tries to stop it, the faster it goes. When he lets his hands and face move like they want to and doesn't try to hold them back, they flow and gesture in a way that's real pretty to watch, but when he worries about them and tries to hold back he becomes a wild, jerky puppet doing a high-strung dance. Everything is moving faster and faster, and his voice is speeding up to match.

Ha az emberrel kibasznak, akkor igenis joga van ordítani. És mivelünk kibasztak!

he commences to laugh. Nobody can tell exactly why he laughs; there's nothing funny going on. But it's not the way that Public Relation laughs, it's free and loud and it comes out of his wide grinning mouth and spreads in rings bigger and bigger till it's lapping against the walls all over the ward. Not like that fat Public Relation laugh. This sounds real. I realize all of a sudden it's the first laugh I've heard in years.

And crying doesn't always mean need

It's like each face was a sign like one of those "I'm Blind" signs the dago accordion players in Portland hung around their necks, only these signs say "I'm tired" or "I'm scared" or "I'm dying of a bum liver" or "I'm all bound up with machinery and people pushing me alla time." I can read all the signs, it don't make any difference how little the print gets.

And sometimes, as you sing, you cannot help feeling that the unheard echoes and tunes forgotten are echoes of other voices and tunes of other singers...in that kind of world.

I didn't say it didn't make sense, Chief – I just said it was talking crazy.

Si-aproape ca zaresc masinaria din ei preluand cuvintele pe care tocmai le-am rostit si-incercand sa le potriveasca ici sau colo, intr-un loc sau altul, si cand constata ca acele cuvinte n-au un loc dinainte stabilit unde sa se aseze, masinaria din ei se leapada de cuvinte de parca nici n-ar fi fost rostite.