Best 30386 quotes in «writing quotes» category

,My head is like a ridiculous barn packed full of stuff I want to write about,’ she said. 'Images, scenes, snatches of words…in my mind they’re all growing, all alive. Write! they shout at me. A great new story is about to be born - I can feel it. It’ll transport me to some brand-new place. Problem is, once I sit at my desk and put them all down on paper, I realize something vital is missing. It doesn’t crystallize - no crystals, just pebbles. And I’m not transported anywhere.

My hero is writing while I'm enjoying it.

My imagination was running amok again. Twice in one night. This never happens when I’m sitting in front of a typewriter.

My job takes up many daylight hours, it wakes me in the still of night and fills my head with ghosts and monsters but I love it, telling stories is what I was born to do.

My life as well as my writing are guided by creed in lieu of clichés Carl Henegan

My mind is a forest fire.

My mother, who is a pianist and a fine artist, purchased a piano for me. Twice. This was back when I was a small girl. Pianos, of course, came complete with the quintessential piano teacher who whacked my hand with a stick each time I struck the wrong key. I learned a few pieces, yes, but eventually my pen compelled me to write too much and the sound of the leaves rustling in the wind compelled me to climb trees too often. Sorry mom. Coincidentally, books come from trees and flipping the pages sounds like wind through leaves... hhhmmmm... I guess I’m still just climbing trees now, but in a different way!

My muse is a restless genie, a conniving devil, a wanton mistress and a fairy godmother. At times he’s Othello’s Iago, at others he’s Clarence from 'It’s a Wonderful Life'.

My pragmatic nature, my impatience, will most likely have me drunk on aged spirit by noon.

My pen beats faster as I write with my heart

My reason for existence is my struggle to be a writer.

My heart's scripture tastes foreign in the mouths of cowards and on the tongues of those who have never breathed in the moon and breathed out the world.

My ideas are a shapeless mass that my writing molds into beauty.

My life is my book, but I can't write it.

My life is ruled by four W’s: my writing, my work, my wife, and my whisky. Not necessarily in that order.

My life: under construction, but beautiful.

My lips are fierce with passion. My heart spins fiery beats. A rhythm lives within my fingers and dances in my feet.

My mind can be ugly. But when I read something of mine that I think is beautiful, I'm reminded mind can be beautiful too.

My mother is changing history. She is making her balalaika-smashing mother into a heroine. Does she want me to do the same for her? Is that what good children do for their parents? What about good writers?

My passionate leisure pursuit are reading, wondering and writing.

My story can move fast, as I can't, it can have a reasonable and perhaps perfect solution, as mine can't. A solution that is somehow satisfying, as my personal solution never can be.

My spouse is my shield, my spouse is my strength.

My Readers time is as important as mine. I try to write good things worth reading.

My places were emotional, primarily. I wrote of locales in which I had lived, or in which I imagined I could live, but the topography was primal and sexual and terminal. It bore no distinct architecture or design or dialect. It was merely human and in peril, which is to say universal. But on Royal and Coliseum and Vista--streets I cannot relinquish--I found my places and I dreamed a narrative. Can I go there and find it again?"--Tennessee Williams

Myths are what remain once the history of an event has been forgotten or lost to time. Myths are like the memory of one’s first crush; the pain and longing one felt at that time is forgotten, but the warmth and sweetness of romance lives on, probably even magnified, larger in the imagination than it was in reality.

Mythology is like a game of Chinese Whispers. What goes in at one end of the human circle is rarely what emerges at the other end.

My thoughts are with you all. Forever conscious of the vast, absurd universe and writing my eternal story I shall remain dead, but dreaming.

My problem as a writer is that—whenever I meet someone for the first time—I immediately invent for them a personality and background that are invariably more interesting than the ones they possess. And confirming this character to be uninteresting after a few minutes of conversation, I decide that they are unnecessary to my story and begin devising ways to kill them off.

My wishes before I die, to fulfill my mission on earth; The writing of my life stories to inspired present and future generations.

MYTH: Beautiful Writing Trumps All REALITY: Storytelling Trumps Beautiful Writing, Every Time

My words shouldn’t be trophies to look at, but seeds to continue the cycle of Life.

My writing is like those little carved baskets made in prisons…

My TV show enraged people. I had prostitutes on, and I treated them like real people.... I was fired from Maclean's after I wrote a piece called 'Let's Stop Hoaxing The Kids About Sex'. Now I'm the 'beloved author,' the 'beloved historian of Canada,' an icon. I get standing ovations.... I never set out to be a patriot or a popular historian. I just liked storytelling. [interview promoting Marching as to War (2002)]

Na minsan, ang manunulat ay hindi lang ang manunulat kundi ang tauhan din ng kanyang kwento. Ang tauhan ay ang puso't kaluluwa, ang sarili, ng isang manunulat.

My writing, it’s my way of making sense of everything. My way to feel whole. May I never be complete and may I never feel content – please, let me always have the need, always have the urge to write.

My writings are my letters to the universe, who loved me like a mother.

My writings are the mirror of my soul and the dance of my mind.

My stories are my children. Some are sweet infants that I coddle and care for. Others are old enough now, they need to damn well get a job!

My sincerest gratitude to every ass hole, horrible boss, and worthless piece of shit I've ever met for giving me new and endless material to work with and a way to earn a living exposing you.

My working method has more often than not involved the subtraction of weight. I have tried to remove weight, sometimes from people, sometimes from heavenly bodies, sometimes from cities; above all I have tried to remove weight from the structure of stories and from language.

Nature's lessons are hard to learn. Harder still is it to translate Nature's lessons to others. Beside, the appeal of Nature is to the Emotions; and words are weak things ... by which to convey or to evoke emotion. Words seem to be the vehicles rather of ratiocination than of emotion. If, in these pages, there are scattered speculations semi-mystical, semi-intelligible, perhaps even transcending the boundaries of rigid logic, I must simply aver that i put in writing that only which was given me to say.

Najveću vrijednost imaju neizreciva znanja, ali još uvijek se nadam, ako ispišem podosta toga, i ona će se nazrijeti negdje između redova.

Networking isn't how many people you know, it's how many people know you.

Nem, látszólag mindenem megvan, kivéve, hogy nincs barátnőm. Pajtásaimmal szórakozni szoktam, de csak hétköznapi dolgokról esik szó közöttünk. Baj, hogy senki iránt se melegszem fel. Lehet, hogy bennem van a hiba, amiért nincs bizalmas barátom. Ez biztosan így van, sajnos, nem tudok rajta változtatni.

Never ask about the details of someone's personal life, only the quality. Because if they want you to know, they'll let you know. If they don't want you to know, there is no need to know.

Never be afraid to write what you believe. If the message speaks the truth, others will fear your words for you.

Never be an artist that starts worshiping yourself or believe your little group is better than anyone outside of it. For, you are nothing more than a grain of sand on a hillside in this world of ours. Even Da Vinci’s work is only glanced at then scrolled past on a phone or computer these days. Climb down off your throne and become humble once more.

Never be someone's filler chapter.

Never durst a poet touch a pen to write Until his ink was tempered with love's sighs.

Never fails. Every new book I write seems impossible, writes like I'm typing from dictation, edits like I didn't write it, and finishes like I couldn't possibly have written it.