Best 254 quotes in «muse quotes» category

Why does my muse only speak when she is uhnhappy? She does not, I only listen when I am unhappy.

With no companion but the constant Muse, Who sought me when I needed her ah, when Did I not need her, solitary else?

Whether the darken'd room to muse invite, Or whiten'd wall provoke the skew'r to write; In durance, exile, Bedlam, or the Mint, Like Lee or Budgel I will rhyme and print.

With her first Oscar nomination for her portrayal of Lisbeth Salander in The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Rooney Mara gave fashion fans a new Gothic-chic muse.

A book is a living breathing piece of art and you are just the person it chose to channel its story. Be humble.

A hand moved gracefully over the canvas, releasing the first colorful dot onto a sea of white. Her mind traveled to a different realm, and she joined in spirit with every human being whomever dared to take that first stroke, and she knew the risks; she was willing to pay the price, because wasn’t that what the heart longed for? Whether it be by writing, painting, or music—one only needs to find the strength of courage to walk along the creative path, to search for one’s higher self, and maybe, for just a moment, to gaze into the eyes of God." ― AnneMarie Dapp, Autumn Lady

You're best when you're not in charge. The ego locks the muse.

Akil, humans have these wonderful little things we like to cling onto, called souls. The jury’s still out as to whether demons have them, I sincerely doubt you do." ~ Muse.

Always a frail mind,to Live,I must act this inevitable play of life:'The LIving Death',the deranging and perplexing scenes are in it! Ah!let me not exit the World's STAGE, in silence, leaving the Nature's serene music, my Muse and the Beauty of MANY Imaginary dreams.

And I feel a victory each time when she wins in life.

And tonight the stars again ask me your name? And I just smile, playing the guessing game!

And you will suck the life out of me Bury it I won't let you bury it I won't let you smother it I won't let you murder it And our time is running out And our time is running out You can't push it underground You can't stop it screaming out How did it come to this?

All I need to do is place my pen against paper and your love writes for me.

Arts without a spiritual relative is like frying buns with water.

...at morning, I'm unruffled - I'll sit with my tea and Muse Cat beside me and listen to the soft chime of the grandfather clock...

A true leader leads for the sake of love and his knowledge of the path, a bad leader redirects his followers to the path of destruction.

Creativity is when a stupid clever soul gets up from bed and do amazing things that makes the world think he is wise.

Your muse is amused and willed to further renewal during the process of mindless grabbing of reference material or errant imaginings.

A smile, like the poet's muse, Inspires passion in the lover's heart

Become my muse. And let me paint you with my words...

Being human was a lot more difficult than it looked. Demon was easy. Demon was simple. Human was…terrifying." Muse

Dear Muse, I was just now standing in balcony and watching the rain drops fall and suddenly I felt this beautiful feeling that you have made my life truly special. How many people can say that they received love from a beautiful and inspiring girl? A girl who writes magically well. A girl who is the utmost cute and charming. A girl who is the fragrance of a million jasmines. A girl who is the tenderness of the rose petals. A girl who is beautiful like a full moon night! Yours sincerely,

Dans une vie de bohème on peut faire de poème. Comment serait la vie sans la douce poésie?

Deal resistance a death blow and make sweet love to your art all night long. Put on your fishnet thigh highs and your patent leather stilettos and your special occasion lingerie. Seduce the hell out of your own creative soul. It’s time for an epic lap dance. Dance for your paint and canvas, for fingers tripping across keyboard, for the open arms of motherhood, for the layers of flavor in the meals you create. Wind your hips down for the click of the shutter, for the 3 a.m. bathroom poem, for the late night lesson planning

Dear Muse, I was just now standing in the balcony and watching the rain drops fall from the sky and suddenly I felt this beautiful feeling. The magical feeling that you are in my life. You came into my life and you have made my life truly special. How many people can say that they receive unconditional love from a beautiful and inspiring girl? A girl who writes amazingly well. A girl who who is achingly pretty and totally kind. When you are near her, she touches the innermost corners of your heart. Before she arrives she brings with her the fragrance of a million jasmines. A girl who is the tenderness of the rose petals. A girl who is the magic of a full moon night! Yours sincerely,

Dedicato alla mia prima musa, ma anche alle altre, poiché grazie alla loro leggiadra trivialità mi hanno stimolato ad approfondire le diverse tematiche legate alla banalità della nostra superficialità.

Don't keep your Muse locked up in the closet. Set them free to dance across the page and what they create will be a masterpiece.

Early in her career, Muse engaged her skills for technical purposes, such as document translation and schematic visualizations for government entities. She continued to write and paint poetically, in secret, using her pen name, Muse. An inner compass is evident in her work. Pieces reflect both past and present dilemmas; while showcasing her victories in overcoming these obstacles ~ all from her faith based perspective. Light touches of modernism play hand in hand with old world strokes, offering highly visceral readings.

Enraptured by the words that I craft in my sentences, she loses herself unknowingly and surrenders herself to my poetry!

Did you know that Bharatiyar used the pen name “Shelley-dasan”? He admired the poems of Shelley so deeply that he wrote under the name “Shelley’s servant”. Wasn’t that a wonderful gesture of humility by someone who was such a great poet himself? And later, Bharatiyar had his own dasan, the poet Subburathinam, who took the pen name Bharathidasan. Subburathinam’s poetry inspired yet another poet who wrote as Surada, short for Subburathina-dasan. And to think this long chain of inspiration spans centuries, going back to the poets who inspired Wordsworth, who inspired Shelley, who inspired our own Bharati.

Fighting demons is what I do; real, and those in my head.

Get off that damn chair and pull yourself together. You're supposed to be an ageless creature of chaos and all I'm getting right now is sulking city boy.

Great ideas emerges from useless fragments of thoughts.

He always thought a muse should be sex on legs.

He became a dark paramour, her muse, and she knew that muses had a tendency to kill those they inspired. She could feel him seeping into her, like the chill. She knew she would never be rid of him now. She was his forever, and she didn't even know what he was thinking of.

Half demon, half human, wholly f*cked." ~ Muse

Her smile alone could light up the darkest of souls The scent of a harvest of roses Skin as soft as silk clothes Energy explosive

Forcing the muse to let thoughts flow; equals to pushing a child, into labor.

He'd failed them, the swimming goldfish of his life's tiny existence whom he held so dear in his heart; he'd turned his muses into mistakes and no one knew the difference but him.

Here you are. Still standing. Fierce with the reality of love and loss. Wearing the truth of our hearts on your tattered sleeves. And yes, this one very nearly took you out. And yes, there were days when the darkness was heavy and the climb out of that rabbit hole required you to mine your depths for strength you didn’t even know you had. But here you are. Broken open by hope. Cracked wide by loss. Full of longing and grief and the burn of that phoenix fire. Warrior painted with ashes. Embers from the blaze still clinging to your newborn skin, leaving you forever marked with scars of rebirth. And just look at you. Heart broken but still beating. Arms empty but still open. Face raised to the sky and giving thanks for the light, even when it hurts your eyes. My god, you are beautiful.

Home is not just where we come from, It is where we choose to belong.

He was no god, just an artist; and when an artist is a man, he needs a woman to create like a god.

He stood in my quaint kitchen, looking somewhere between intrigued and mildly bored, the picture of sophisticated elegance in his obscenely expensive suit. Cufflinks reflected the light while his eyes captured it. Immortal. Ageless. Infinite. So toxic, he should come with a danger-of-death warning sign.

I am meant to be here; within your eye's ocean!

How....will I ever truly depict you? You’re perfect, my writing isn’t.

I am no writer. Her sparkling eyes made my fingers write words in the sand, Her radiant smile made my pen write words in the air. Her beautiful soul made my typewriter type poems for eternity. I am no writer.

I am privileged to have your illuminating presence in my life that adds etherealness to my existence!

I do not write about love as if I have invented it. I write about love because thoughts of you inspire self-forgetfulness. And because writing about you gives birth to a star. These stars sit inside me where there was once darkness.

I curled my lip at the sight of sizzling human hair and skin clinging to my demon flesh. Damn, I’d have given anything to be back in Boston, sipping chai tea latte." ~ Muse, Ties That Bind, #5 The Veil Series.

I do not have a problem with people killing themselves, as long as they took at least a hundred years to think about what they are about to do.