Quotes About Inspiration

I never want to forget that if Lewis Carroll had asked me whether or not he should bother writing about a little girl named Alice who fell asleep and dreamed that she had a lot of adventures down a rabbit hole, it would not have sounded awfully tempting to any editor.

Never underestimate the power of a good cup of coffee.

All forms of art demand a discipline that is not unlike praying. That lays a pipeline between the art & the truth.

I'd like to say to all my fans out there, thanks for the support. And to all my doubters, thank you very much because you guys have also pushed me.

Strivers achieve what dreamers believe.

The sky and the strong wind have moved the spirit inside me till I am carried away trembling with joy.

None of us knows all the potentialities that slumber in the spirit of the population, or all the ways in which that population can surprise us when there is the right interplay of events.

The reason is that they define how I have gone about my business. I have trusted to intuition. I did it at the beginning. I do it even now. I have no idea how things might turn out, where in my writing I might go next.

Great writing can be done in biography, history, art.

The writer is all alone.

Small things start us in new ways of thinking

If a writer knows everything that is going to happen, then his book is dead before he begins it.

Writing enlarges the landscape of the mind.

Any ape can reach for a banana, but only humans can reach for the stars.

The role of the writer is not simply to arrange Being according to his own lights; he must also serve as a medium to Being and remain open to its often unfathomable dictates. This is the only way the work can transcend its creator and radiate its meaning further than the author himself can see or perceive.

words his answer made. "High, high thy thought

Rings out to meet me on my way.

Praise to Válmíki,2bird of charming song,3 Who mounts on Poesy's sublimest spray, And sweetly sings with accent clear and strong Ráma, aye Ráma, in his deathless lay.

Booth died blind and still by faith he trod,Eyes still dazzled by the ways of God.

Would I might rouse the Lincoln in you all.

Planting the trees that would march and trainOn, in his name to the great Pacific,Like Birnam Wood to Dunsinane,Johnny Appleseed swept on.

Old Euclid drew a circle On a sand-beach long ago. He bounded and enclosed it With angles thus and so. His set of solemn greybeards Nodded and argued much Of arc and circumference, Diameter and such. A silent child stood by them From morning until noon Because they drew such charming Round pictures of the moon.

Let not young souls be smothered out Before they do quaint deeds And fully flaunt their pride.

Dream the big dreams and then do them.