Quotes from John Geddes

how many writers still dare compare a woman to Nature, like Campion? - there is a garden in her face - how lovely...

I always thought youth were idealists - now, I'm not so sure - I'm more idealistic now then at 17...

perhaps in actions I'm less of a man - but, oh the words - such lovely words...

being with you was so easy and natural - there was no strain - I never had to guard my words...

there's nothing more lovely than your lamplight, seen from a dark street...

if you always move in certainty, your writing will be flat - creativity is a rugged terrain...

there is a myth called objective reality - we think an impersonal world exists apart from us - it doesn't - it needs us to be ...

I know Shakespeare said art is holding up a mirror to nature- but you're actually bending and refracting it through your interior dialogue ...

you became lost in the maze of me - forgive me Love, for keeping you close...

language always occurs in a context - you can speak Elizabethan words, but to speak the language you have to put on the mindset...

I see you as series of gestures, a palette of colors -all these tiny tiles pixelate, and then coalesce... into the idea of you...

across the snowy field the barn light gleams - it's the loneliness of November twilight...

don't you realize a flawless profile means nothing when a mere smile drives me to desperation? Don't you covet that power?..

The book of the hours - Tres Riche Heures - what did it matter when I had you?...

I love Shakespeare, but sometimes....his images - If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head....

authority is the unmistakeable tone in the voice of a true writer...

if you're an actor, and you've thought your way into the part, then you're character portrayal will have authority...

a writer without authority? Impossible. as Kenneth Burke says, creation implies authority in the sense of originator....

who is the hunchback in my comic opera, but me? I'm crippled on the inside and unable to make the gestures of love...

You see, the Highway to Hell is a toll road. Someone has to pay. And, guess what? It ain't gonna be me.

I believe I am no man's enemy unless he chooses to make me one. For me it's humanity that counts, not the words written in the book of any religion

...there is no map of the soul because we make it up as we go...

Last night, lost in spaces between star—bays and lakes of clouds, I tossed and turned looking for you

You are my winter suddenness—a glass of red wine spilt across a white tablecloth