Writer Quotes - Page 2

If you cannot live with hope and create with intention or be kind to a stranger, bury your head. You are not living at all.

Dawn Garcia

Over-mastered by some thoughts, I yeelded an inckie tribute unto them.

Philip Sidney

If you were destined to be a poet, then you won't brainstorm for lines that rhymes. If you were destined to be a celebrity, then you shouldn't start searching for fans. If you are truly a god, then let others worship you!

Michael Bassey Johnson

Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourselfand let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story.Let your very identity be your book.Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.

Charlotte Eriksson

I am part of everyone I ever dated on OK Cupid.

Slash Coleman

Love is the bee that carries the pollen from one heart to another.

Slash Coleman

Why does everyone think a guy who prefers love to people is missing something in his life?

Slash Coleman

If you call yourself an "authoress" on your Facebook profile, you suck at life. You are stupid and your children are ugly. It doesn't matter if you're just trying to be cute and original. You're not. You are about as original as all those other witless twits "writing" the one millionth shitty Fifty Shades clone. Or maybe you're trying to show your 2000 fake Facebook "friends" that you are an empowered feminist who will not stand for sexist terminology. But you're not showing people that you are fighting the good fight, you're showing people that you are a sheep, who's trying just a little too hard to ride the current wave of idiotic political correctness. The word "author" is no more gender-discrimination than the word "person." Do you call yourself a personess? No, of course not, because then you might as well wear a sign around your neck that says, "Hello, I'm a retard.

Oliver Markus

People make interesting assumptions about the profession. The writer is a mysterious figure, wandering lonely as a cloud, fired by inspiration, or perhaps a cocktail or two.

Sara Sheridan

That's what we storytellers do. We restore order with imagination. We instill hope again and again and again.

Kelly Marcel & Sue Smith

A writer draws a road map where readers walks with their love, joy, anger, tears, and dismay. Every story, every poem, has different meanings for every reader.

Debasish Mridha

Even on the silent days, believe your ship will come.

Shana Chartier

I wonder why I ever bothered with sex, he thought; there’s nothing in this breathing world so gratifying as an artfully placed semicolon.

Camille Desmoulins

By seeing how small the world is, I realize how capable I am. I can conquer anything. Anywhere. Anyone.

Tawny Lara

Negative experiences repeat as long as they remain useful to you.

Tawny Lara

This conversation with myself has an overwhelming aroma of narcissism.

Tawny Lara

As a reader you recognise that feeling when you're lost in a book? You know the one - when whatever's going on around you seems less real than what you're reading and all you want to do is keep going deeper into the story whether it's about being halfway up a mountain in Brazil in 1823 of in love with a man you aren't sure you can trust or fighting a war in the last human outpost, somewhere beyond the moon. Well, if you're writing that book it's real for you too.

Sara Sheridan

Social Media begins with a story - your story.

Germany Kent

Magic is when you live your life the way you didn’t picture it and leave nothing behind.

Robert M. Drake

Ill love you with every little bit of everything that has ever consumed me and I will forever love you and forever find you in every life time and so on. Until the stars die out and the universe leaps but even then, my love will remain.

Robert M. Drake

I am a worried person with a stressed out soul, living a simple life with no capital.

Charlotte Eriksson

Quotes are echos of voices transporting wisdom, humor, and love. Returning again to the human condition, fleeting once more as a dove.

Ryan Lilly

In the very end, all we have left to atone for our faults are words.

Kamand Kojouri

You have a great talent and a great role in the world.

Lailah Gifty Akita

That old man over thereIs selling trinkets made of stonesThat old woman the entire worldIn a map without any hole!

Avijeet Das

Word-Power'Being stuck in my room,I've become a world traveler.If you wonder how...just guess how I've reached you right now

Munia Khan

Now that you're an adult, you might still feel a pang of guilt when you decline a dinner invitation in favor of a good book. Or maybe you like to eat alone in restaurants and could do without the pitying looks from fellow diners. Or you're told that you're "in your head too much", a phrase that's often deployed against the quiet and cerebral.Or maybe there's another word for such people: thinkers.

Susan Cain

When a dancer performs, melody transforms into a carriage, expressions turn into fuel and spirit experiences a journey to a world where passion attains fulfillment.

Shah Asad Rizvi

Transcend the terrestrial; surpass the celestial, from nature’s hands when you receive the sublime pleasures of dance.

Shah Asad Rizvi

Life is an affair of mystery; shared with companions of music, dance and poetry.

Shah Asad Rizvi

Make dance the mission every moment seeks to accomplish.

Shah Asad Rizvi

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 awaybut still wondered what he did with his lifebecause he didn’t even speak to meor look at mebut still made me wonder who he wasand I walked away askingAm I making something worth while?I am not sure.I am a complicated person with a simple lifeand I am the reason for everything that ever happened to me.

Charlotte Eriksson

Tickle my heart with your pen. Write me for all to read. Bind our love inside a book. Make me, your poetry.

N'Zuri Za Austin

I reside in an abode where your thoughts imagine me... You reside in my heart where the auricles camouflage my longing...

Avijeet Das

I Don't Waste My Time Doing Crosswords, As My Life Is The Only Puzzle I Care To Resolve!

Latif Mercado

I've written you sixty-seven love poems.Here’s another one for you.But really, for me.These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me.I place this candle here and another thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me.Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us?Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of loveif by lighting these candlesour own flame loses its brightness?I know the good is more than the bad. Much more.I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

Kamand Kojouri

A poetess is not as selfishas you assume.After months of agonising over her marriage of words—the bride—and spaces—the groom,she knows that as soonas she has penned the poem,it’s yours to consume.So, without giving it a think,she blows on the inkand the letters fly awaylike dandelions on a windy day,landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips.But more often than not,you can easily spotthem trodden and forgotten,becoming sodden and rotten.Yet, she will continue to makewhat’s others to takebecause selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.

Kamand Kojouri

Fantasy, an unflagging optimism is necessary for a writer at all stages of this rough game. A kind of madness is therefore necessary, when there is every logical reason for a state of depression and discouragement. Perhaps the fact that I can react with utter gloom to this is what keeps me from being psychotic and keeps me merely neurotic. I am doing quite a good day's work today. But I am also aware of the madness that actually sustains me, and I am not made more comfortable or happy by it.

Patricia Highsmith

Pull back the curtain and jump down the rabbit hole.

Brad Jensen

Fall into the cavern of my mind, and together there, we will dine.

Brad Jensen

Leave me alone,Do me a favor, abandon me,I want to think about,You me and the idea of forever.

Rohit Hora

For what was it about books that once finished left the reader in a bit of a haze and made them reread the last few sentences in order to continue the ringing in their hearts a while longer, so as not to let the silence illumine the fact that reading, they had gained something — distance, a lesson, a companion, a new world — but now, after the last full stop, they had lost something palpable and felt a little emptier than before.

Kamand Kojouri

I am going to build a fortress of books.Will you come inside and live with me?

Kamand Kojouri

You are the Poem I dreamed of writing, the Masterpiece I longed to paint. You are the shining Star I reached for in my ever hopeful quest for life fulfilled. Yes, I am Blessed.

Oksana Rus

These poems are cupsthat I pour my life into.Here, Drink!

Kamand Kojouri

When we step onto the bridge, Nathan turns and spreads his arms out wide. ‘Welcome to Pont des Arts, a.k.a. The Lock Bridge.

Ashley Earley

The boy took my sketchbook.

Ashley Earley

I head in the direction of the Eiffel Tower when I exit the alley, relieved to be out of the dark.

Ashley Earley

He smirks, shaking his head and letting his eyes wander. I watch him carefully, wondering what I can say to get him to leave. “I’m not leaving until you answer some questions. Plus, I’m holding your sketchbook hostage, so you might want to cooperate.” I raise an eyebrow at him. I guess there isn’t much I can say. “This isn’t a hostage negotiation.” He chuckles half-heartedly as his eyes take me in, almost sizing me up. “I guess I should introduce myself.” He holds a hand out for me to shake. “I’m Nathan.” I stare at his hand for a moment. “Taylor,” I reply, meeting his eyes again without taking his hand. He lets his hand fall back to his side. “At least I got you to say something non-hostile.” “I haven’t been hostile,” I object. His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, haven’t you?” “Why don’t you leave me alone?” I snap. “Leave and don’t come back.” I move passed him, heading for my apartment. He can’t follow and annoy me if I lock the door. “Where are you going?” he demands. I look back over my shoulder and roll my eyes at him, indicating the answer should be obvious: anywhere he isn’t. Once inside, I slam the door behind me. “That was totally not hostile!” he calls after me, sarcastically. I quickly head for my bedroom door, slamming it, too.

Ashley Earley

I grab the nearest lamppost when my knees threaten to give out, panting for breath as the words rip through me

Ashley Earley

Poetry isn’t an island, it is the bridge. Poetry isn’t a ship, it is the lifeboat. Poetry isn’t swimming. Poetry is water.

Kamand Kojouri

We are told that in translation there is no such thing as equivalence. Many times the translator reaches a fork in the translating road where they must make a choice in the interpretation of a word. And each time they make one of these choices, they are taken further from the truth. But what we aren’t told is that this isn’t a shortcoming of translation; it’s a shortcoming of language itself. As soon as we try to put reality into words, we limit it. Words are not reality, they are the cause of reality, and thus reality is always more. Writers aren't alchemists who transmute words into the aurous essence of the human experience. No, they are glassmakers. They create a work of art that enables us to see inside to help us understand. And if they are really good, we can see our own reflections staring back at us.

Kamand Kojouri

One of his hands move away from my face to flatten against my back, pulling me closer to him as he deepens the kiss. He parts my lips under his as my mind seems to sign quietly in content. I kiss him back as fiercely as he kisses me, unable to control the infatuation that rushes through me - feeling almost like fireworks. Not so careful anymore.Little shivers of urgency shoot through me. I push off the window, pressing closer to him. The rush of sensation that is coursing through me feels like I've drunk a gallon of coffee. It feels like an electric buzz is flooding between us.

Ashley Earley

He drinks his coffee tentatively, glancing at me every few seconds, watching me. Every time he glances in my direction, I quickly turn away though he obviously knows I'm watching him. I know he's wondering why I'm staring at him, but he doesn't ask.I finally take a sip of coffee, set the mug back on the table, and voice what's on my mind, "I want to draw you.

Ashley Earley

It's easier said than done but when you feel yourself out of balance within, stop in that present moment and catch your breathe. Remind yourself of 5 things, that help you feel most alive and re-centre your own energy frequency so you can continue living out of your intentions not the world's distractions.

Nikki Rowe

The pages afforded glimpses into my soul where I'd hidden it, behind masks of paper and ink.

Rachel L. Schade

I write our names on the page.What of it, if the paper will be burned?I write our names in the sand.What of it, if the shore will be washed by waves?I write our names on trees that will be cutand benches that will be painted,but what of it?I will keep on writing our namesbecause in this world of ephemera, You and I are the only constant.

Kamand Kojouri

If typos are God's way of keeping a writer humble, plot holes certainly keeps one on their knees.

E.A. Bucchianeri

To increase the chances of a writer trying to kill themselves, cut off their hands.

Mokokoma Mokhonoana

MY MOONI'll always wonder what time it is there; if you're dreaming, or awake. My moon is your sun; my darkness, your light. I'm in the future, you'd jokingly say.And I know where you are, because I'm watching you from the past.

Coco J. Ginger

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Writer Quotes - Page 2

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