Quotes About Expression

Certain brief sentences are peerless in their ability to give one the feeling that nothing remains to be said.

Art's only concern with the real is to abolish it, and to substitute for it a new reality

I had woven a tapestry of obscenity that as far as I know is still hanging in space over Lake Michigan.

Kissel worked in Idleness the way other artists worked in clay or marble.

To be a green and juicy crone comes from having lived long enough to be deeply rooted in wholehearted involvements, of living a personally meaningful life, however unique, feminist, or traditional it may appear to others. It has to do with knowing who we are inside and believing that what we are doing is a true reflection or expression of our genuine self. It is having what Margaret Mead called PMZ, or postmenopausal zest for the life you have.

Les mots visibles sont comme des points de repère dans l'étendu. La signification de chacun d'eux est à la fois ponctuelle et tourbillonante; le sens nait de leur rapprochement comme l'éclair du choc électrique des nuages.

le langage l'engage.

She'd permed her hair to within an inch of its life. When she moved her head, the mass of hair followed along behind her a split second later." Perhaps you had to live through the late 70's, early 80's to appreciate this.

The artist on art. How do you get your ideas for stories Mr. Valentine? Well, I simply exploit everything I come into contact with. One ended, of course, by losing all spontaneity. You saw people as characters, sunsets as an excuse for similes -.

He hoped she would not provide his family with any of her poems, which tended to use words like nipple.

You are the most sleepiest man I ever seed.

But words is like th spots on dice: no matter how y fumbles em, there's times when they jes wont come.

I have discovered that writing is rather like talking: it is very difficult to start, but once you have actually got going it can also be very difficult to stop. The reason I don't want to stop is that I am scared of being on my own. At least when I'm writing this journal it's like conversing with someone.

I almost wish that anyone were here, so I could just talk about anything. I know Harry used to accuse me of being anti-social (because of my not liking parties and shutting myself away painting), but it is a very dreadful and isolating experience not to have exchanged one single word with another human being for as long as I have.

Talking was such an embarrassment; she never knew what to say.

Bloody right I feel I'm entitled to express an opinion! What's going on here is a crime against humanity! What the hell do these women think they're playing at? Trying to rewrite history? Make it into her-story?

Don't listen to the words— they're only little shapes for what you're saying, they're only cups if you're thirsty, you aren't thirsty.

I have an evening dress, pink mull over silk (I'm perfectly beautiful in that), and a blue church dress, and a dinner dress of red veiling with Oriental trimming (makes me look like a Gipsy), and another of rose-coloured challis, and a grey street suit, and an every-day dress for classes. That wouldn't be an awfully big wardrobe for Julia Rutledge Pendleton, perhaps, but for Jerusha Abbott - Oh, my!

Just such a letter as you would write to your parents if they were living. 'These

Scratch an Irishman and he'll bleed a story.

Cette fois-ci j'ai choisi un axe, sans m'interdire pour autant d'emprunter quelques chemins de traverse, et cet axe je l'ai défini dès les premières lignes comme étant ma relation au langage (il se peut que ce livre ne soit qu'une version personnelle des Mots de Sartre...).

L'expérience même n'était pas nécessaire. Sartre, j'en aurais juré, ne s'était jamais risqué sur des skis nautiques et pourtant il trouvait le moyen de décrire – et sur des pages – la jouissance du skieur. Ah ! comme l'intelligence pouvait être gaie !

n'ai obéi qu'à une exigence, d'ailleurs non formulée, celle de donner à entendre ma voix, et cela, si je puis dire, à mes propres oreilles : ma voix, comme si je craignais, après tant d'années consacrées à écouter les voix des autres, de perdre la mienne

L'écrivain – et chacun pouvait l'être –, en refusant d'être artiste, réalisait ce miracle de l'art : créer une chose !