Quotes About Inspiration

She was the reason I was a reader, and being a reader was what had made me most myself; it had given me the gifts of curiosity and sympathy, an awareness of the world as an odd and vibrant contradictory place, and it had me unafraid of its oddness and vibrancy and contradictions.

Each season I find myself constantly inspired by 'The Biggest Loser' contestants. Their tenacity and willingness to learn new, healthy habits is tremendous and the results speak for themselves. I am honored to be part of such an inspiring program that helps inspire positive change in so many lives.

And we who have always thought of happiness climbing, would feel the emotion that almost startles when happiness falls.

The past is a springboard for me….Ancient things are new things. Everything lives in the moment; that's the only time it can live, but its influence can go on forever.

I would've liked to have been Poussin, if I'd had a choice, in another time.

I viewed this image inside of a box and pictured the edges of the box reaching outer space. I knew the Divine would have to create the path; I wasn't innovative enough to do so. Within a few days, an entirely unexpected outcome emerged.

All my emotions and only my emotions are fueling my contribution to the world

On the land, spring rains are the primitive artists, greening hills and valleys and coaxing flowers to vivid bud and bloom. Summer rains are the long-lived masters of color—the steadier they fall on hardwood trees in June, July, and August, the richer reds and yellows ignite the autumn foliage.

Sometimes, people need hope in order to get them through the day.

Some day, you might soar like an eagle, but for now, let me try to teach you how to flap your wings.

There's always music," he replied, "if you listen carefully enough.

Returning the phone, she said, "You're an artist." The whole train seemed to shimmer. The stars shone brighter out the window. Ray knew Grampa and his art teacher believed in him, but nobody had ever said, "You're an artist." Just like that. Let alone someone his own age. Maybe Mel wasn't easy to get to know, but she sure did have a kind heart.

Maybe when we see things all the time, we stop really looking at them. And it takes an artist, someone who can look past the ordinariness, to remind us how special they really are" -Lily

What I love about art is that anything is possible. Bees can be pink. Trees can be purple. It's like taking the world as it is and then swirling it around to show how it could be" -Salma

I think art can take ordinary things and show them to you like it's the first time you've ever seen them. And you realize that even ordinary things aren't really ordinary at all" -Salma

I imagined Dad beside me: "It's pretty," he'd say. "But pretty isn't enough for a great photograph. Show me why I care. What's the story?

Looking close can make something beautiful. Not everything worth keeping has to be useful. If you don't have the words you need, borrow someone else's.

I like art because there are no wrong answers. It's all about how you see the world. So you can be completely yourself" -Salma

Sometimes I can change how I feel about something by drawing it.

Get thee to the novel! - the novel, that word-woven submarine, piloted by intimation and intuition, that will dive you to the deeps of the heart's maelstrom.

A genuine essay has no educational, polemical, or sociopolitical use; it is the movement of the free mind at play. Though it is written in prose, it is closer in kind to poetry than to any other form. Like a poem, a genuine essay is made out of lenguage and character and mood and temperament and pluck and chance.

If we had to say what writing is, we would have to define it essentially as an act of courage.

To imagine the unimaginable is the highest use of the imagination

A writer is dreamed and transfigured into being by spells, wishes, goldfish, silhouettes of trees, boxes of fairy tales dropped in the mud, uncles' and cousins' books, tablets and capsules and powders...and then one day you find yourself leaning here, writing on that round glass table salvaged from the Park View Pharmacy--writing this, an impossibility, a summary of who you came to be where you are now, and where, God knows, is that?