Quotes About Expression

but a library is a gorgeous language that you will never speak fluently.

Don't." His voice was harsh. "Don't do that." She exhaled. "You're lovely. Lovelier than before.

His lips parted, but long years of experience with Ramses, and to some extent, Emerson, had taught me how to turn a conversation into a monologue.

His masculinity was only too apparent

no eyes but mine will read these words. Why, then, the gentle Reader will ask, do I infer his or her existence by addressing her, or him? The answer should be obvious. Art cannot exist in a vacuum. The creative spirit must possess an audience. It is impossible for a writer to do herself justice if she is only talking to herself.

Nefret was still pouting when Emerson helped her into the carriage. Emerson did not observe the pout. He would not have observed it (men being what they are) even if something had not distracted him.

He got to his feet--always a fascinating process to watch, because of the length of his arms and legs--and glowered down at me.

Suddenly, without preliminary fluttering or blinking, the closed eyes opened. They were a true, clear green, an unusual color for human eyes. They looked translucent, like seawater, and they focused on Jean with an expression of concentrated malevolence made all the more alarming by contrast with the placidity of the face in which they were set. The woman's compressed lips parted. "Here, too, O Lord?" a plaintive voice inquired.

Bah,' said Emerson. 'It relieved my feelings, but it had not the

Poetry,' I continued, 'is too sensational for young minds.

The invention of languages is the foundation.The "stories" were made rather to provide a world for the languages than the reverse. To me a name comes first and the story follows' (Letters, 165, p. 219).

You will have only one story," she had said. "You'll write your one story many ways. Don't ever worry about story. You have only one.

the expression on her face, which was swept by the excitement of what she saw ... was as luminous and tremulous under it as water in sunlight when it is ruffled by a gust of wind.

Penso che risulterebbe stancante essere legati per l'eternità al culmine dei momenti più ispirati dei massimi scrittori. Altitudini come quelle sarebbero inadatte a insetti come me. Su questi libri elevati me ne starei aggrappata alla bell'e meglio, con la testa e le ali penzolanti. E forse che anche l'anima non ha voglia, di tanto in tanto, di mettersi in vestaglia?

Aveva scoperto che lasciare non dette le cose che si ritenevano più preziose procurava un terribile senso di solitudine.

He seemed a jovial, simple man, and had the eyes of a nice dog.

She had a sad face, yet she was evidently efficient. The combination used to make Mrs. Wilkins wonder, for she had been told by Mellersh, on days when she had only been able to get plaice, that if one were efficient one wouldn't be depressed, and that if one does one's job well one becomes automatically bright and brisk. About

Si, d'aventure, il prenait à mes meubles la fantaisie de se faire épousseter le jour où j'aurais quelque chose de plus intéressant à faire, je revendique hautement le droit de les précipiter tous dans le feu de joie le plus proche, de m'établir près du brasier et d'y réchauffer gaiement mes pieds glacés après avoir vendu tous mes chiffons au premier chineur venu.

even now, after years of study in the art of holding my tongue, some stray fragment of what I feel does occasionally come out, and then I am at once pulled up and brought to my senses by the well-known cold stare of utter incomprehension, or the look of indulgent superiority that awaits any exposure of a feeling not in the least understood.

She was just staring; and her face, as usual, was the face of a patient and disappointed Madonna.

A photograph is a most important document, and there is nothing more damning to go down to posterity than a silly, foolish smile caught and fixed forever.

Meanwhile, bank regulators looked off somewhere in the middle distance, wearing the same expression as a dog owner who's pretending that his pooch isn't pooping on your lawn.

One of the terrible fallacies of contemporary psychotherapy is that if people would just say how they felt, a lot of problems could be solved.

if only my whole life could be words and music, if only everything else could slip away.