Writer Quotes

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

~ Ashley Earley

It is a dangerous thing to substitute reading or writing for living. Live first, then write.

~ Kamand Kojouri

There is no revelation in my words. I am merely stating what others have forgotten to write down.

~ Kamand Kojouri

I take in all the colorful locks that line the bridge. Each one told a story. Each lock represented a relationship that was once special, whether it ended or turned into true happiness. The locks represented a past, present, and a possible future.

~ Ashley Earley

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

This mind is continuous and ever taxing, Sleep is an endeavoring luxury for the carnivorous mind

~ Gerald Mills

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

~ Kamand Kojouri

We are all born as storytellers. Our inner voice tells the first story we ever hear.

~ Kamand Kojouri

Because at nightwhen others are sleeping, I drown myself in poetry.

~ Kamand Kojouri

She was in awe of all his work. 'How do you do it? she asked.He smiled and said, 'By loving you.

~ Kamand Kojouri

Some artists benefit less from being interviewed than they do from being left alone.

~ Mokokoma Mokhonoana

Art lovers ought to be crazy.That's how they see the fun side of everything.

~ Saru Singhal

Maybe stories choose how they are told and who tells them.

~ 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

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…

~ Ana Claudia Antunes

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

~ Kamand Kojouri

Sit here, so I may writeyou into a poem and make you eternal.

~ Kamand Kojouri

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

Oh, how scary and wonderful it is that words can change our lives simply by being next to each other.

~ Kamand Kojouri

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

~ Rohit Hora

The others in the dorm thought I wanted to be a writer, because I was always alone with a book, but I had no such ambition. ”― Haruki Murakami, Norwegian Wood

~ Haruki Murakami

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

The history of time is captured by poet, artist, writer, photographer…!

~ Lailah Gifty Akita

When the weakness of human soul conflict with writer's word , It will create self History.

~ Yaganesh Derasari

I want to... have fun with writing again. Enjoy my work, enjoy playing with the language and characters like a sculptor plays with clay. But there's this manic focus on numbers--how many books have you written and how many have you sold and it's all push, push, push, and no time for reflection--but at heart, books are about dreaming... which is just the opposite. So I don't know... M.M. Bennetts comment to Nancy Bilyeau as related in Nancy's tribute M.M. Bennetts: The Closest Friend I Never Met

~ M.m. Bennetts

Every job from the heart is, ultimately, of equal value. The nurse injects the syringe; the writer slides the pen; the farmer plows the dirt; the comedian draws the laughter. Monetary income is the perfect deceiver of a man's true worth.

~ Criss Jami

Don’t ask a writer what he’s working on. It’s like asking someone with cancer on the progress of his disease.

~ Amy Lowell

I earned a mater's degree in journalism and took the first job offered, as a sports writer. Instead of chasing my own fame, I wrote about famous athletes chasing theirs.

~ Mitch Albom

I don’t want to be remembered for my work. I want to be remembered for my love.

~ Kamand Kojouri

I’m still lonely and it’s a glorification of something I’m not finished with. I don’t want to be distracted from my work by other people, but the absence of it all distracts me from my work and that’s why I run towards the city, to get a little glimpse of it.

~ Charlotte Eriksson

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

As some people turned to religion for comfort, so, Highsmith wrote in her notebook in September 1970, she took refuge in her belief that she was making progress as a writer. But she realised that both systems of survival were, however, fundamentally illusory. She wrote, she said, quoting Oscar Wilde because, 'Work never seems to me a reality, but a way of getting rid of reality'.

~ Andrew Wilson

A writer walks in nature to wonder.

~ Lailah Gifty Akita

As a writer, It’s an elation to see my own words in print, to float them out there for all the world to read and to learn that some of the world actually does read them. Of their own free will! It warms the heart. However, I have learnt that in spite of frequent and sound advice, the world has not become a noticeably more peaceful kingdom. Folly abounds, incompetence, wrath, crime, nonsense prevails, thieves multiply, power corrupts. And my bones creak in the morning. Still, spectacular things go on in the sky; forms and colors and movements, cloud shapes and sunscapes so awesome I ought to end everyday standing on a rooftop and clapping and calling for more. Slowly I learn bits of what there is to see, and then forget and learn again. And learn too that mortality is the stuff of life; learn how soon the young get old, how short a while is for ever. It’s sad to stand on the hill and, one by one, see the lights go out around you; sad to know the paper has begun turning yellow before the pencil gets to the bottom of the page, to realize there won’t be time enough to get it all done – the chores, the cooking, the sitting on the porch to watch the birds dart at dusk, the major work. But there’s something reassuring too in understanding that death is nature’s, life’s, God’s way of letting us know that we are never meant to save the world single-handedly, to keep the sun aloft and the old globe spinning. What we’re meant to do, I hope, is fill some small and temporary slot, to give off a little light for a little while and then lie down. I’m comfortable with that, with the notion of being a small voice yapping away in a small planet. One of many voices, neither the wisest, nor the best, but mine, and fairly close to as good as I can make it.

~ Manasa Rao

All I need to dois place my pen against paperand your lovewrites for me.

~ 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