Quotes About Inspiration

Play the man, Master Ridley; we shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.' 

Occasionally I wonder why I can be so happy. The answer is that every day of my life I've worked only for myself and for the joy that comes from writing and creating. The image in my mirror is not optimistic, but the result of optimal behavior.

Books were only one type of recepticle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget.There is nothing magical in them, at all.The magic is only in what books say, how they stitches the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.

And they were all, when their souls grew warm, poets.

I libri erano soltanto una specie di veicolo, di ricettacolo in cui riponevamo tutte le cose che temevamo di poter dimenticare. Non c'è nulla di magico, nei libri; la magia sta solo in ciò che essi dicono, nel modo in cui hanno cucito le pezze dell'Universo per mettere insieme così un mantello onde rivestirci.

Intuited novels are far more 'true' than all your scribbled data-fact reportage in the history of the world!

Wandering alone in the library, letting his broom tell him things no one else could hear, he had heard the whistle and the disjointed calliope hymns.

We theorize about what goes on in the brain, but it is mostly undiscovered country. A writer's work is to coax the stuff out and see how it plays. Surprise, as I have often said, is everything.

He shaped the world. He did things to the world. The world was bankrupted of ten million fine actions the night he passed on.

Life is short, misery sure, mortality certain. But on the way, in your work, why not carry those two inflated pig-bladders labeled Zest and Gusto.

GRANDPA'S LIBRARY WAS A FINE DARK PLACE bricked with books, so anything could happen there and always did. All you had to do was pull a book from the shelf and open it and suddenly the darkness was not so dark anymore.

So here, after fifty years, is Fahrenheit 451. I didn't know what I was doing, but I'm glad that it was done.

Fuego brillante Posfacio de Ray Bradbury, febrero de 1993

We never sit anything out. We are cups, constantly and quietly being filled. The trick is, knowing how to tip ourselves over and let the beautiful stuff out.

La magia solo está en lo que dicen los libros, en su forma de coser los retales del universo para ofrecer una única prenda

Give a man a few lines of verse and he thinks he's the Lord of all Creation

Un hombre de la Tierra piensa: «En ese cuadro no hay realmente color. Un físico puede probar que el color es sólo una forma de la materia, un reflejo de la luz, no la realidad misma». Un marciano, mucho más inteligente, diría: «Este cuadro es hermoso. Nació de la mano y la mente de un hombre inspirado. El tema y los colores vienen de la vida. Es una cosa buena».

I have learned, on my journeys, that if I let a day go by without writing, I grow uneasy. Two days and I am in tremor. Three and I suspect lunacy. Four and I might as well be a hog, suffering the flux in a wallow.

Well, if you are a writer, or would hope to be one, similar lists, dredged out of the lopside of your brain, might well help you discover you, even as I flopped around and finally found me.

When people ask me where I get my ideas, I laugh. How strange—we're so busy looking out, to find ways and means, we forget to look in.

books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. there is nothing magical in them, at all. the magic is only in what books say , how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us. of course you couldn't know this, of course you still can't understand what I mean when I say all this. you are intuitively right, that's what counts.

Let the world burn through you. Throw the prism light, white hot, on paper. Make your own individual spectroscopic reading.

So, yeah, insane people give me hope. Courage to go on being sane and alive, always with the cure at hand, should I ever tire and need it: madness.

I fell into my typewriter with it and came up with a brand-new, absolutely original tale, which had been lurking under my skin since I first drew a skull and crossbones, aged six.