Words Quotes
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I grew up saying, 'I want to be famous,' but that was just the words that you used. As I got older, I understood that what I really meant was, 'I want to be successful.'
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I don't know what it means and I don't care because it's Shakespeare and it's like having jewels in my mouth when I say the words.
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With Instagram, you're captioning a moment. Twitter is the caption without the image. Even if it's there, the words come first.
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Words have weight, sound and appearance; it is only by considering these that you can write a sentence that is good to look at and good to listen to.
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Comics are words and pictures. You can do anything with words and pictures.
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I'd play the same character for ten years if the words and the moments that I'm playing are authentic.
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I don't believe that a writer 'gets' (takes into the head) an 'idea' (some sort of mental object) 'from' somewhere, and then turns it into words, and writes them on paper. At least in my experience, it doesn't work that way. The stuff has to be transformed into oneself, it has to be composted, before it can grow into a story.
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The little unknown thing was growing within her as suddenly and softly as the first touch of spring on the maples. It was putting out its hidden, watery roots as simply and surely as little cypresses take root in a stretch of swamp water away off yonder. It was coming upon her as quietly as the dark came up from the woods at night and hushed in the little clearing, closing every chink of every shutter tight with nothing. Impulses swelled within her, swelled her body fit to burst; yet they did not come out in words, nor song, nor in any sign.
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Sometimes words are not needed, and the simplicity of expressing yourself through an art form is one of the best ways of communication.
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Words, words, mere words, no matter from the heart.
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One should use common words to say uncommon things.
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Writing a screenplay needs to be more than words on a page - and by the way, I think the words on the page are something you have to try to execute on the highest level you can; I'm not dismissing that by any regard.
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Actions speak louder than words, and a smile says, 'I like you. You make me happy. I am glad to see you.' That is why dogs make such a hit. They are so glad to see us that they almost jump out of their skins. So, naturally, we are glad to see them.
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It's hard for me to put my feelings into words.
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There's no such thing as sculpture or art or anything, it's just a bit of - it's just words, you know, and actually saying everything is art. We're all art, art is just a tag, like a journalists' tag, but artists believe it.
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A writer who takes political, social or literary positions must act only with the means that are his. These means are the written words.
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I gave up on cussing - I'd run out of words filthy enough - and just started praying.
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Sentences are not different enough to hold the attention unless they are dramatic. No ingenuity of varying structure will do. All that can save them is the speaking tone of voice somehow entangled in the words and fastened to the page for the ear of the imagination. That is all that can save poetry from sing-song, all that can save prose from itself.
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Empty words and long praises do not impress God. Show Him your faith by your deeds.
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I always craft my words to the point where I think and hope they're perfect before I ever begin sketching.
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And the prince who has relied solely on their words, without making other preparations, is ruined, for the friendship which is gained by purchase and not through grandeur and nobility of spirit is merited but is not secured, and at times is not to be had.
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I discovered ... that a novel has nothing to do with words in the first instance. Writing a novel is a cosmological matter, like the story told by Genesis (we all have to choose our role models, as Woody Allen puts it).
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I am Psmith," said the old Etonian reverently. "There is a preliminary P before the name. This, however, is silent. Like the tomb. Compare such words as ptarmigan, psalm, and phthisis.
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It started at one thirty on a cold Tuesday morning in January when Martin Turner, Street performer and, in his own words, apprentice gigolo, tripped over a body in front of the West Portico of St. Paul's at Covent Garden. Martin, who was none too sober himself.
