Words Quotes - Page 6

Words bounce. Words, if you let them, will do what they want to do and what they have to do.

A word is not the same with one writer as it is with another. One tears it from his guts. The other pulls it out of his overcoat pocket.

Appearance blinds, whereas words reveal.

All I'm writing is just what I feel, that's all. I just keep it almost naked. And probably the words are so bland.

You should write because you love the shape of stories and sentences and the creation of different words on a page. Writing comes from reading, and reading is the finest teacher of how to write.

Strong words outlast the paper they are written upon.

I never met a word I didn't love

A new word. Bright with possibilities. A flawless pearl to turn over and over in my hand, then put away for safekeeping.

I am telling you what I know - words have music and if you are a musician you will write to hear them.

The true poem rests between the words.

…words have been all my life, all my life-this need is like the Spider's need who carries before her a huge Burden of Silk which she must spin out-the silk is her life, her home, her safety-her food and drink too-and if it is attacked or pulled down, why, what can she do but make more, spin afresh, design anew….

And what is wrong with playing with words? Words love to be played with, just like children or kittens do!

Read to escape reality . . . Write to embrace it.

Words are but the vague shadows of the volumes we mean.  Little audible links, they are, chaining together great inaudible feelings and purposes.

Words and a book and a belief that the world is words...

A word is a bud attempting to become a twig. How can one not dream while writing? It is the pen which dreams. The blank page gives the right to dream.

Step out from behind the words. When you're a writer you can imagine that the words speak for you and are you, but they're not. You are this living breathing bad hair day kind of person.

To write does not mean to convert the real into words but to make the power of the word real.

No, she wasn't losing language. She was choking on it.

A word only writes
Its night and rides
Its dream.