Alan Moore Quotes
Som-Som would later learn that the girl's name was Book. Ambiguous and suggestive sentences swirled out from the maroon bud of her nipple. Verses of elegant and cryptic passion followed the orbit of her left eye. Her fingers dripped with poetry.
Alan Moore
Quotes to Explore
I think depression creates in me an urgent need to write, but I also believe that daily stress, and even the positive 'stress' of intense happiness, can compel me to express myself through the written word.
Francesca Lia Block
The World Cup is every four years, so it's going to be a perennial problem.
Gary Lineker
As a novelist, I ask of myself only that I tell the truth and that I tell it beautifully.
Taiye Selasi
I feel like we all have our skeletons.
Taraji P. Henson
So many paintings have hidden meanings or need wall texts, but my work is not in that category.
Caio Fonseca
I was quite keen on silviculture, the growing of trees, and that was something I gave a lot of thought to. Maybe I could've gone in that direction. But it just so happened that while I was trying to make up my mind, I enrolled in art school, and there I began to develop my interest in music, parallel with my interest in the visual arts.
Ian Anderson
There's been a number of erroneous biographies, articles and so on written about Billy and we both thought it would be a good idea to produce a true one.
Pamela Stephenson
It's funny: when I go to a school and speak, and when they hear the back story about me, they want to go read the book.
Jay Asher
Women speak in the superlative.
Emile Souvestre
…Novello should be extremely grateful that his innubile daughter was being taken off his hands by a Tasca.
Anthony Burgess
It had been startling and disappointing to me to find out that story books had been written by people, that books were not natural wonders, coming up of themselves like grass. Yet regardless of where they come from, I cannot remember a time when I was not in love with them - with the books themselves, cover and binding and the paper they were printed on, with their smell and their weight and with their possession in my arms, captured and carried off to myself. Still illiterate, I was ready for them, committed to all the reading I could give them.
Eudora Welty
Som-Som would later learn that the girl's name was Book. Ambiguous and suggestive sentences swirled out from the maroon bud of her nipple. Verses of elegant and cryptic passion followed the orbit of her left eye. Her fingers dripped with poetry.
Alan Moore
