Writing Quotes

Children are game for anything. I throw them hard words, and they backhand them over the net.

Saturday, November 12th, 2011
tennis ball over the net

Some writers for children deliberately avoid using words they think a child doesn’t know. This emasculates the prose and, I suspect, bores the reader. Children are game for anything. I throw them hard words, and they backhand…

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My heart is in my mouth, and the sound of the poetry is the way in

Tuesday, September 20th, 2011
Donald Hall and Obama

I read poems for the pleasure of the mouth. My heart is in my mouth, and the sound of the poetry is the way in. My poems often begin with a rhythm but without the words. A few words may come to you, and they may be …

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Poetry is not only dream and vision; it is the skeleton architecture of our lives.

Tuesday, September 13th, 2011
dark forest

We can train ourselves to respect our feelings and to transpose them into a language so they can be shared. And where that language does not yet exist, it is our poetry which helps to…

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A writer who omits things because he does not know them only makes hollow places in his writing

Saturday, March 5th, 2011
owl and moon

If a writer of prose knows enough about what he is writing about he may omit things that he knows and the reader, if the writer is writing truly enough, will have a feeling of those things as strongly as though the writer had stated them. The dignity of movement of an ice-berg is due to only one-eighth of it being above water….

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An epitaph a day is like an apple a day… The apple part is rhymed poetry, the dying part is blank verse.

Thursday, March 3rd, 2011

“Every morning when you get up, write an epitaph!” I watched them scribble something. “That’s good, I encouraged them, “start right away!,” though I knew that what they were scribbling were not epitaphs, but “every morning when you get up write an epi… epipi… epi…”

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Only a heat so deeply and intelligently born can carry a new idea into the air

Wednesday, February 23rd, 2011
mysterious colors

The truly contemporary creative force is something that is built out of the past, but with a difference.

Most of what calls itself contemporary is built, whether it knows or not, out of a desire to be liked. It is created in imitation of what already exists and is already admired. There is, in other words, nothing new about it. To be…

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When they finally put us underground, the stories are what will go on

Thursday, October 28th, 2010

Even when they were brought over to this world through Izzy’s art, they lived in secret, in their own hidden world. Izzy could find them – or they found her. I could see them, because I knew where to look. I suppose other people…

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The best artists know what to leave out

Thursday, June 24th, 2010
wing feathers

They know how much of the support should show through as the pigment is applied, what details aren’t necessary. They suggest, and let their viewer fill in whatever else is needed to make the communication complete. They aren’t afraid…

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Anyone who writes down to children is simply wasting his time. You have to write up, not down.

Monday, June 21st, 2010
baby spiders

Anybody who shifts gears when he writes for children is likely to wind up stripping his gears… There is a difference between writing for children and for adults. I am lucky, though, as I seldom seem to have my audience in mind…

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I don’t suffer Writer’s Block… I don’t wait on the muse, I summon it at need

Sunday, June 6th, 2010

If I had to name the QuoteSnack muses, they’d be Curiosity and her cousin Stubborn. I Know I am going to look until I find, even when I don’t feel like it. I have faith that this discipline is good for me, and I believe I…

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The best lay in town is a poem

Monday, May 31st, 2010
psychadelic flower

I hear I am one of the most successful living poets in the world these days. And if someone asked me, “How in the hell did that ever happen?” I could respond, “Well, I worked my butt off, and I have been lucky at poker, and…”

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There are few joys to compare with the telling of a well-told tale

Tuesday, May 25th, 2010

“I just know it’s what I want to do,” she said, “but…”

Her voice trailed off, and for a time they walked in silence. The tang of the sea was in the air. The Otherworld stars wheeled and spun in constellations unfamiliar to Cat’s…

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