Quotes About Creativity

Killing the Angel in the House was part of the occupation of a woman writer.

and to forget one's own sharp absurd little personality, reputation and the rest of it, one should read; see outsiders; think more; write more logically; above all be full of work; and practise anonymity. Silence in company; or the quietest statement, not the showiest; is also medicated as the doctors say. It was an empty party, rather, last night. Very nice here, though.

I am wrapped round with phrases, like damp straw; I glow, phosphorescent.

For now that Aphra Behn had done it, girls could go to their parents and say, You need not give me an allowance; I can make money by my pen.

I spent an hour looking at pots and carpets in the museums the other day, until the desire to describe them became like the desire for the lusts of the flesh.

Either I shall find it, or I shall not find it. I examine my note-case. I look in all my pockets. These are the things that forever interrupt the process upon which I am eternally engaged of finding some perfect phrase that fits this moment exactly.

For the film maker must come by his convention, as painters and writers and musicians have done before him.

the cardinal labor of composition, which is excision…

Coleridge certainly did not mean, when he said that a great mind is androgynous, that it is a mind that has any special sympathy with women; a mind that takes up their cause or devotes itself to their interpretation. Perhaps the androgynous mind is less apt to make these distinctions than the single-sexed mind. He meant, perhaps, that the androgynous mind is resonant and porous; that it transmits emotion without impediment; that it is naturally creative, incandescent and undivided.

when I ask you to earn money and have a room of your own, I am asking you to live in the presence of reality, an invigorating life, it would appear, whether one can impart it or not.

Do not dictate to your author; try to become him. Be his fellow-worker and accomplice.

I like reading my own writing. It seems to fit me closer than it did before.

As I write, there rises somewhere in my head that queer and very pleasant sense of something which I want to write; my own point of view...

I'll be blasted', he said, 'if I ever write another word, or try to write another word, to please Nick Greene or the Muse. Bad, good, or indifferent, I'll write, from this day forward, to please myself

I note however that this diary writing does not count as writing, since I have just re-read my year's diary and am much struck by the rapid haphazard gallop at which it swings along, sometimes indeed jerking almost intolerably over the cobbles.

If only he could be alone in his room working, he thought, among his books. That was where he felt at his ease.

It is the duty of the writer to describe.

I want to raise up the magic world all round me and live strongly and quietly there.

Perhaps it was better not to see pictures: they only made one hopelessly discontented with one's own work.

Who would not spout the family teapot in order to talk with Keats for an hour about poetry, or with Jane Austen about the art of fiction?

Am dorit întotdeauna s? dilat noaptea È™i s? o umplu din ce în ce mai mult cu vise.

But what little I can get down into my pen of what is so vivid to my eyes, and not only to my eyes; also to some nervous fibre, or fanlike membrane in my species.

Intellectual freedom depends upon material things. Poetry depends upon intellectual freedom.

Never had any boy begged apples as Orlando begged paper; nor sweetmeats as he begged ink. Stealing away from talk and games, he had hidden himself behind curtains, in priest's holes, or in the cupboard behind his mother's bedroom which had a great hole in the floor and smelt horribly of starling's dung, with an inkhorn in one hand, a pen in another, and on his knee a roll of paper.