Quotes About Inspiration

So where does music come from?

This the day to shape the days upon.

Evoca las formas. Cuando no tengas nada más inventa ceremonias e infúndeles vida.

Where you've nothing else construct ceremonies out of the air and breathe upon them.

Tutte le cose piene di grazia e bellezza che ci portiamo nel cuore hanno un'origine comune nel dolore.

That old she-painter, she never left a track one. She wadn't no common kind of painter.

So if you get the impression from time to time that we're sort of winging it here so be it. The first thing is to locate the narrative line. It doesnt have to hold up in court. Start splicing in your episodics. Your anecdotals. You'll figure it out. Just remember that where there's no linear there's no delineation. Try

I know that small acts of valor may be all that is visible of great movements of courage within.

So where does music come from? No one knows. A platonic theory of music just muddies the water. Music is made out of nothing but some fairly simple rules. Yet it's true that no one made them up. The rules. The notes themselves amount to almost nothing. But why some particular arrangement of these notes should have such a profound effect on our emotions is a mystery beyond even the hope of comprehension. Music is not a language.

This is what Great Art does. It becomes more real than the real, more true than the truth.

Schopenhauer says somewhere that if the entire universe should vanish the only thing left would be music.

We need serious strategic and tactical thinking about how to create new models of leadership and forge the kind of persons to actualize these models.

I prefer to be hope rather than talk about hope.

Mo could paint pictures in the empty air with his voice alone.

All writers are insane!

My children were all made from paper and printer's ink...

If you keep pretending you're in that book, it will make you not want to live in the life you're in.

perhaps because this time not fear but love made him read.

Cornelia Funke

Desperate? So what? I'm desperate, too! Fenoglio snapped at her. My story is foundering in misfortune, and these hands here, he said holding them out to her, don't want to write anymore! I'm afraid of words Meggie! 'Once they were like honey, now they're poison, pure poison! But what is a writer who doesn't love words anymore? What have I come to? This story is devouring me, crushing me, and I'm it's creator!

You really don't understand the first thing about writing...for one thing, early in the morning is the worst possible time. the brain is like a wet sponge at that hour. And for another, real writing is a question of staring into space and waiting for the right ideas.

Words are immortal - Elinor

As Mo had said: writing stories is a kind of magic, too.

with every new day, Fenoglio's story was spinning a magic spell around her heart, sticky as spider's webs and enchantingly beautiful