Best 1050 quotes in «writer quotes» category

99% of natural poets discovered their talents through love letters.

A book can be a great friend, an advisor, a means to an end. A book reveals so much more than a movie would ever do. For example, when I watched the movie “The Hours” I was fascinated by the story. Just a year later I decided to read the book. And what was my surprise that I was even more dazzled by its writings than I was by the images… The images in my head were more vivid than the film could ever transport me to that feminine universe that the author was trying (and so successfully granted me) to conceive…

A book feels like a thing alive in the moment, and also alive on a continuum, from the moment the thoughts about it first percolated in the writer's mind to the moment it sprang off the printing press - a lifeline that continues as someone sits with it and marvels over it, and it continues on, time after time after time.

A bad handwriting is as annoying to a reader … as an irritating voice is to a listener.

A cheerful writer is an angel of writing. They write parables; speaking in voices of poetry.

About my interests: I don’t know if I have any, unless the morbid desire to own a sixteen-millimeter camera and make experimental movies can be so classified. Otherwise, I love to eat and drink – it’s my melancholy conviction that I’ve scarcely ever had enough to eat (this is because it’s impossible to eat enough if you’re worried about the next meal) – and I love to argue with people who do not disagree with me too profoundly, and I love to laugh. I do not like bohemia, or bohemians, I do not like people whose principal aim is pleasure, and I do not like people who are earnest about anything. I don’t like people who like me because I’m a Negro; neither do I like people who find in the same accident grounds for contempt. I love America more than any other country in the world, and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually. I think all theories are suspect, that the finest principles may have to be modified, or may even be pulverized by the demands of life, and that one must find, therefore, one’s own moral center and move through the world hoping that this center will guide one aright. I consider that I have many responsibilities, but none greater than this: to last, as Hemingway says, and get my work done.

A country that denies it, citizens, the opportunity to "civil liberties", better health care, schools, roads, electricity and water. Is a country on a brink of no return.

Actual conversation is still okay... to a writer who types all day, texting is like never leaving work.

Adam Kuambiana umerudi nyumbani ulikotoka, ukiongozwa na imani na mwanga wa wale uliowapenda na kuwapoteza. Hatuwezi kukumbuka kwamba umetutoka bila kukumbuka kwamba uliishi, na kwamba maisha yako yalitupa kumbukumbu nzuri tusizoweza kuzisahau haraka. Jumanne, siku ya kuuaga mwili uliokuwa ukitumiwa na wewe, wengine watasema Kwa heri lakini mimi nitasema Asante! Asante kwa sababu ya kipaji chako. Asante kwa sababu ya kujitahidi kwa kadiri ya uwezo wako wote, kutoa sauti kwa wale wote waliokuwa hawawezi kusikika. Asante kwa sababu ya kuacha dunia katika hali nzuri kuliko ulivyoikuta wakati ukiingia, na Asante kwa sababu ya maisha yako. Tukiendelea kuomboleza kifo cha Adam Kuambiana hapa duniani, wengine wanasherehekea kukutana naye huko mbinguni. Mchungaji wa uhai wa wote Mungu wa mbinguni ailaze roho yake mahali pema peponi: Yeye ni mwandishi wa hadithi ya maisha yetu na ndiye aliyeandika ukurasa wa mwisho wa hadithi ya Adam.

A dog will be a dog regardless of its owner, the same stick that pokes sheep, will impale the goat. Women tend to believe that he won't do to me what he has done to her. A dog will be a dog regardless of its owner. The same stick that smote the yellow snake will smite the black one too.

Advice for a long and happy life - never tell a writer you have fixed their work. Ever.

A fiction writer is nothing more than the ambassador of an alternative world of their own design. Their success dwells in how many people their work entices to relocate

Ache my bones, flame my muscles, tingle my nerves, but you will never taint my beautiful mind & I will overcome this condition with the belief that I already have. - CRPS AWARENESS -

A city full of eight million people. It was all rather lonely sometimes.

Advice from a Romance Writer: Guys, make your woman feel pretty even on an 'off' day. Trust me, good things will come of it.

A fiery spirit bursts from your soul.

A fleeting second on someone's news feed, No dearth of meanings for those who read, Not my stories but 'tis what I think, I say I don't write poems, I just write dreams.

...a great future behind him, already

A friend worth knowing tolerates your flaws while a friend worth keeping loves you in spite of them.

After each of his books, the writer, for a while, feels once again that he can now die happy.

A leader does not only discover what people can do better. He teaches, guides and mentor them to do it exceptionally well. When a seed comes into contact with a leader, fruits are produced.

A good writer is also an avid reader. A good reader is also a vivid dreamer. A good dreamer is also a good learner. And a good learner is definitely a good listener. A good listener is always looking to what the heart speaks. A spoken heart talks directly to a silent soul. And a silent soul is most of the time in pace with a peaceful thought. A peaceful thought is also a good writer...

A fine writer must appreciate and accept the power of language manifestly.

A little attention, a little kindness, a little thoughtfulness are worth more than all the wealth in the world.

All a writer needs is raw talent, along with years of self-doubt and rejections.

All great writers share one thing in common: They finished their books.

A life lived outside of one's giftedness is a complete and utter travesty. It deprives the world of the beauty we each bring to our respective space(s). It leaves us all less fulfilled and enlightened.

All great stories began as shitty first drafts. There are no exceptions to this.

A liar with a pen is a writer

A life of devotion to one's passion gives us meaning to our life.

All I wanted was my art and the chance to be the creator of my own world, my own reality.

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

All kinds of people read poetry: revolutionaries, scholars, sentimentalists etc. But above all else, lovers read poetry. Why? Because we fell in love. And then we fell in love with love.

Although my road to writing seems like it may have come easily, there were a few bumps in that road. I didn’t get a lot of encouragement from friends, although my family were great supporters. I also had many…what you would call “mind-boggling” moments, when I would doubt myself and what I was writing. It has been said that we, ourselves, are our own worst critics. All the hard work had payed off though, and I created a children’s book that I am proud of, and an unforgettable little girl that will touch the hearts of many.”-Nina Jean Slack

All writers read, Ms Rainn. With dwindling amounts of books circulating imagination, the less writers of all mediums will be able to exercise their own imaginations.

All you have to do is put one word after another, and remember how great it feels to be a writer.

Always write exactly what you’re feeling at the exact moment when writing something like poetry or an emotional novel. Put yourself, pour all emotions into your work…make yourself cry, feel joy if you are writing joyful things, feel lovey if it calls for it…just put your heart and soul into all that you do…then you will be a good writer when you can make whoever reads your work, feel." -Nina Jean Slack

A man's ego can drive him either to heights of glory or to depths of misery!

Am I making something worth while? I’m not sure. I write and I sing and I hear words from time to time about my life and choices making ways, into other lives, other hearts, but am I making something worth while? I’m not sure. There was a boy last night who I never spoke to because I was too drunk and still shy, but mostly lonely, and I couldn’t find anything lightly to say, so I simply walked away but still wondered what he did with his life because he didn’t even speak to me or look at me but still made me wonder who he was and I walked away asking Am I making something worth while? I am not sure. I am a complicated person with a simple life and I am the reason for everything that ever happened to me.

Almost every single thing you hope publication will do for you is a fantasy, a hologram--it's the eagle on your credit card that only seems to soar.

A man does not become a real man by showing his physical domination over women. A man becomes a real man by loving, respecting and protecting women.

A Memory Is Better Than A Phony!

Anak-anak muda jaman sekarang itu lucu dan agak susah dimengerti. Mereka cukup bersemangat membuat berbagai macam proposal untuk kegiatan organisasi yang mereka ikuti. Tapi proposal hidup yang berisi visi dan strateginya meraih mimpi, justru lupa mereka buat sendiri.

An aspiring writer should write one time and edit ten times.

An artist must be passionately in love with her art. Obsessed or possessed ― go mad for what you believe in.

An author is similar to an actor. They play many characters in their lives—photographer, nurse, dancer, doctor, writer, etc. As an author, you have to learn your craft, know each and every element to become that character you’re writing about to be able to live and breathe what they do.

An ardent anti-Nazi, he was excited by the outbreak of World War II---which he had been predicting---and followed the war news closely. [On F. Scott Fitzgerald]

An ad for cigars appears in 100,000 newspapers; sales of that brand increase by 3% for a short time thereafter. A new play receives a viciously negative review in a theatrical journal that prints 500 copies; the playwright shoots himself. Who’s the better writer?

... and it was quite a sad thing, the way I watched you sleep like nothing could go wrong and I did not want to harm it, I did not want to blur it, but how could I not when everything I’ve ever known has slowly gone away and I know by now that that’s the way you let the new day in with new roads and views and chances to grow but it was quite a sad thing because I don’t want this to ever become ’then’ or ’was’ and it was quite an unfamiliar thing. The way I took off my shoes again, put down my bag and quietly went back to bed, slowly between the sheets of moments I don’t want to leave and it was quite a beautiful thing the way you had no idea but still must have known because you did not even open your eyes, but turned around and took my hand and you were still asleep, breathing in and out like nothing could go wrong, but still held my hand like you were glad I didn’t leave. ’Thank you for staying’ and it was quite a wonderful thing, the way I smiled and so did you, sound asleep, and that’s all I need to know for now. That’s all I want to know for now.

And this,' Astrid says, gesturing at a wiry gentleman wearing eyeglasses and a houndstooth suit in need of pressing, standing a little distance away from the rest of the group, looking slightly uncomfortable, 'is Dexter Palmer, and he's a—what?' 'I,' says Dexter Palmer. 'Um.' 'He's a novelist,' Astrid brays, and Harold looks at Dexter, at his right arm rubbing his threadbare left elbow. Harold sees the oaken trunk in the corner of Dexter's filthy downtown loft with an enormous padlock on it, sees the tens of thousands of pages of handwritten manuscript that fill it. He sees the stub of the tallow candle on Dexter's rickety wooden desk, purchased for a dollar-fifty at a rummage sale. He sees the short leg of the desk propped up with a seven-hundred page study of phrenology, printed during the age of miracles. He sees Dexter's eyes going bad by candlelight, a whole diopter lost with each late night. 'Zounds, I am working on my masterpiece,' Dexter Palmer yells hoarsely, disturbing the neighbors. He slings a cup half-full of tepid chamomile tea at the wall, where it shatters. 'Dexter's writing a novel,' Astrid says brightly. After a few minutes of introductory cross-talk, the group of five splits into separate conversations: Harold talks with his sister and Charmaine, while Marlon ends up with Dexter. To Harold, Marlon looks cornered—Harold can't hear what Dexter's saying, but whatever he's talking about, he's clearly going on about it at length and in fine detail. Maybe Marlon is getting to hear all about the novel. Every once in a while Marlon will look at Harold and theatrically roll his eyes and sigh, but Dexter, who's frantically gesticulating, wrapped up in whatever he's chattering about, doesn't notice.