Quotes About Creativity

I like to think that the colors and sounds and words have nothing to do with him, that they're all me and my own brilliant, complicated, buzzing, humming, soaring, roaring, diving, godlike brain.

I curl up on my bed, propped against my pillows, books spread across the comforter. Since I stopped writing, I read more than ever. Other people's words, not my own—my words are gone. Right now, I'm into the Brontë sisters.

Ideias pra músicas. Anotações aleatórias. Coisa que vão se tornar músicas. Coisas sobre as quais talvez eu escreva algum dia, ou que comecei mas não terminei porque não eram suficientes. Se uma música for feita pra durar, a carregamos conosco.

It was funny about writing. It was like flying or driving or playing an instrument. When you were doing it like you were supposed to be doing it, you knew it right inside of you. You could feel that this was the way it should be. But when you wrote a word that you didn't believe in, that didn't fit, it stuck out just like a bumpy landing or a bad turn or a false note.

I have songs to write and songs to sing and planes to fly and I want to see my old yellow truck again.

We should write about our wanderings so we have something to show for them besides pictures. Actually, you should do the writing. I'll just smile and look pretty.

and the rest of Sales, Marketing, and Publicity) have created the brightest of places for me to live, breathe, and work, and I am thrilled out of my head to be there.

Make it lovely.

If I do anything, I have to start over, but all I have is fragments of ideas. Just places.

Writing was what I did best, better than being a daughter, or girlfriend, or sister. Writing was me. But now writing is one of the things I can't do.

Germ—Ask a Parent, book playlists, monthly soundtracks, lists of places where girls like me can get involved. One of the things I want to create is a Wander section where readers can send in pictures or videos of their favorite grand, small, bizarre, poetic, nothing-ordinary sites.

The only thing I leave alone is the ceiling, because white contains all the wavelengths of the visible spectrum at full brightness. Okay, this is technically true of white light and not white paint, but I don't care. I tell myself that all the colors are there anyway, and this gives me an idea. I think of writing it as a song, but instead I sign onto the computer and send a message to Violet. You are all the colors in one, at full brightness.

I don't say anything because I used to love words. I loved them and was good at arranging them. Because of this, I felt protective of all the best ones. But now all of them, good and bad, frustrate me.

books spread across the comforter. Since I stopped writing, I read more than ever. Other people's words, not my own—my words are gone.

Remember what Michelangelo said about the sculpture being inside the stone - it was there from the beginning, and his job was the bring it out. Violet mother

I love the world that is my room. It's nicer in here than out there, because in here I'm whatever I want to be.

So I make up song after song. Most nights, these are Songs That Will Change the World because they are that good and that deep and that damn amazing.

I do my best thinking at night when everyone else is sleeping. No interruptions. No noise. I like the feeling of being awake when no one else is.

Green Eggs and Ham. The book was not actually written to encourage fussy eaters to eat, but to make Seuss's editor Bennett Cerf eat his words. (Cerf had bet Seuss he couldn't write a book using fifty words or less.) Green Eggs and Ham hit it on the nail, and Geisel won fifty dollars, or would have, but Cerf never paid.

Cram your head with characters and stories. Abuse your library privileges. Never stop looking at the world, and never stop reading to find out what sense other people have made of it. If people give you a hard time and tell you to get your nose out of a book, tell them you're working. Tell them it's research. Tell them to pipe down and leave you alone.

The difference between people who believe they have books inside of them and those who actually write books is sheer cussed persistence - the ability to make yourself work at your craft, every day - the belief, even in the face of obstacles, that you've got something worth saying.

Cram your head with characters and stories. Abuse your library privileges. Never stop looking at the world, and never stop reading to find out what sense other people have made of it. If people give you a hard time and tell you to get your nose out of a book, tell them you're working. Tell them it's research. Tell them to pipe down and leave you alone.

Tell the story that's been growing in your heart, the characters you can't keep out of your head, the tale story that speaks to you, that pops into your head during your daily commute, that wakes you up in the morning.

How marvelous to leave the real world with all its cares behind and step into another, more vivid, more vital, alive with fascinating characters whose lives you alone control.