Quotes About Creativity

had a husband once. He played the saxophone." "Oh, dear. So we may assume that didn't last?

Most of all, I keep working because I trust that creativity is always trying to find me, even when I have lost sight of it.

Pero si pudiera hacerme unos pantalones con la hierba de este jardín lo haría

The simple little words came easily, fitting themselves to the tune that had come out of the harpsichord. It didn't seem to her that she made them up at all. It seemed to her that they flew in from the rose-garden, through the open window, like a lot of butterflies, poised themselves on the point of her pen, and fell off it on to the paper.

To have hummingbirds visit. Charlie set up a feeder outside her bedroom window. Never a poet like Dossy, Helen feels a new urge toward veerse. Flit and perch, hovercraft, I follow you.

In art it is not often possible to make direct use of your dreams of tomorrow and your excuses for yesterday.

Making a living is nothing, the great difficulty is making a point, making a difference - with words.

I don't think painters have the answers about a painting except the painting itself. Anyway, a painting has to have some kind of mystery to it to make it work.

Then draw everything. Do a hundred drawings a day,' he said fiercely. 'And remember that it's a hellish life.

I wondered if a novel could have the power to make something so strange happen in actuality.

I recently heard a great writer say that an essential element in the life of a writer is to have been an outsider in childhood, to have been given the gift of not belonging.

Not for the first time, Ofelia wondered if humans had thought of anything really new in the past ten thousand years. Had they only wandered the stars because they were tired of their stale jokes and curses?

This has the potential to be a rolling doughnut

She did not want to be Bilong's mother, or her grandmother. She had done with these roles, with being a good child, a good wife, a good mother. She had put seventy-odd years into it; she had worked hard at it; now she wanted to be that Ofelia who painted and carved and sang in an old cracked voice with strange creatures and their stranger music. The

no eyes but mine will read these words. Why, then, the gentle Reader will ask, do I infer his or her existence by addressing her, or him? The answer should be obvious. Art cannot exist in a vacuum. The creative spirit must possess an audience. It is impossible for a writer to do herself justice if she is only talking to herself.

responsible for some of the most

You will have only one story," she had said. "You'll write your one story many ways. Don't ever worry about story. You have only one.

I was for ever making plans, and if nothing came of them, what did it matter? The mere making had been a joy.

all forms of needlework of the fancy order are inventions of the evil one for keeping the foolish from applying their hearts to wisdom.

Penso che risulterebbe stancante essere legati per l'eternità al culmine dei momenti più ispirati dei massimi scrittori. Altitudini come quelle sarebbero inadatte a insetti come me. Su questi libri elevati me ne starei aggrappata alla bell'e meglio, con la testa e le ali penzolanti. E forse che anche l'anima non ha voglia, di tanto in tanto, di mettersi in vestaglia?

Oh, I thought of calling it Journeyings in Germany. It sounds well, and would be correct. Or Jottings from German Journeyings--I haven't quite decided yet... (Minora)

But while admiring my neighbour, I don't think I shall ever try to follow in her steps, my talents not being of the energetic and organising variety, but rather that of that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a volume of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, sitting on a willow trunk beside a little stream, forget the very existence of everything but green pastures and still waters, and the glad blowing of the wind across the joyous fields.

We build the most outrageous castles in the air. Nothing is certain, and everything is possible.

if only my whole life could be words and music, if only everything else could slip away.