Quotes About Muse

The muse doesn't come without being called.

Deep in the secret chambers of my heart I muse my life-long hate, and without flinch I bear it nobly as I live my part.

Think and wonder, wonder and think.

What was a pretty, clever girl anyway? She gets called a "muse," but she was kindling.

I just really allowed my muse to be my guide and I just go with whatever I'm feeling.

I try to indulge my muse whenever I am able to get away from it all.

My muse is my wife. It's not some vague thing that flutters around the astrosphere or wherever it is. Sometimes as a songwriter you need something to hang a song on, to give it some kind of presence and form. For me, Susie is that.

I've always worked on all different types of music, some with specific project goals and deadlines and some not. Sometimes I would write a piece of music that is almost like a film score or weird electro pieces, wherever the muse took me, and I still do that.

The muse is not an angelic voice that sits on your shoulder and sings sweetly. The muse is the most annoying whine. The muse isn't hard to find, just hard to like - she follows you everywhere, tapping you on the shoulder, demanding that you stop doing whatever else you might be doing and pay attention to her.

once believed that a published author must be an Olympian being—a wise or at least worldly philosopher-god who rises at noon, feeds his muse a diet of scotch/rocks, and debauches his soul into the keys of a rusty Underwood Noiseless while the rest of the world sleeps.

1) the Muse visits during, not before, the act of composition, and (2) the writer takes dictation from that place in his mind that knows what he should write next. -from a review by Roger Ebert of film Starting Out In the Evening (2007). http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/p...

The writer is the prey of an inner god who speaks at all times, without bothering, tyrant that he is, with the holidays of his medium. Writers are on holiday, but their Muse is awake, and gives birth non-stop.

If you want to write, keep cats.

It's now the British Muse's fables That lie on maidens' bedside tables And haunt their dreams. They worship now The Vampire with his pensive brow

Each of the Arts whose office is to refine, purify, adorn, embellish and grace life is under the patronage of a Muse, no god being found worthy to preside over them.

Something is visiting, but it may not be the muse...

Muse When at night I wait for her to come, Life, it seems, hangs by a single strand. What are glory, youth, freedom, in comparison with the dear welcome guest, a flute in hand? She enters now. Pushing her veil aside, she stares through me with her attentiveness. I question her: 'And were you Dante's guide, dictating the Inferno?' She answers: 'Yes.

I'd never want my muse to be a singer of nothing but disaster.

My mother's English, and she always was fascinated by the desert.

...How sublime Upon a time-blanch'd cliff to muse, and, while The eagle glories in a sea of air, To mingle with the scene around!—Survey The sun-warm heaven...

When it finds you (whatever we call "it"—the Muse, inspiration, Story), writing moves past the careful construction of a plot line and the adding-in of needed characters. Story overflows outline and cuts its own passage through the valley of fiction. For the writer, it's an immersion.

The muse in charge of fantasy wears good, sensible shoes.

Let my muse Fail of thy former helps, and only use Her inadulterate strength. What's done by me Hereafter shall smell of the lamp, not thee.

The loveliest Muse in the world does not feed her owner; these girls make fine mistresses but terrible wives