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Write Quotes

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Write Quotes

“A writer gets to live yet another life every time he or she creates a new story.”

“Writing a story is like going on a date—you will spoil it if you aren't living in the moment.”

“If certain aspect needs to be inconsistent, it must better be consistently inconsistent throughout the story.”

“Be a good reader first if you wish to become a good writer.”

“Tell a story in fewer and simpler words.”

“Turn those deep feelings and obsessions of your heart into captivating pieces of literature.”

“Don’t interrupt when your characters take a flight of their own.”

“Don’t break the rules when you haven’t fully figured them out yet.”

“If you think there is no time to write now, there will never be.”

“Good writing ideas don’t have to be about political turmoil, mass killings, capitalism, racism, injustice, and so on. Find that one idea that has deep roots in your heart.”

“A writer can do without food for a few hours but not without the sight of books.”

“Ideas either age like fine wine or rot like potatoes over time.”

“If you are a singer, you must sing. If you are a dancer, you must dance. If you are a writer, you must write. Don’t suffocate your heart.”

“As you become a better writer, the writing becomes more difficult. You toil harder to tell a story in a smaller number of words.”

“Clichés are the viruses that infect your writing with diseases.”

“My wishes before I die, to fulfill my mission on earth; The writing of my life stories to inspired present and future generations.”

“They say that to escape reality is when you sleep, but when you sleep your sub conscious is in control of your dreams. For me to escape reality is when I read and write. When I read the world around me doesn't exist. The world in the story does and when I write I'm in control. Think of it as the author is the god of the world that they created. They set the characters fate.”

“I write our names on the page. What of it, if the paper will be burned? I write our names in the sand. What of it, if the shore will be washed by waves? I write our names on trees that will be cut and benches that will be painted, but what of it? I will keep on writing our names because in this world of ephemera, You and I are the only constant.”

“We, of all the beings that we know of, can think. We can eat, write, build, save. We can predict, estimate, and count. We can preserve food for lifetimes, and in times of crisis, we can find ways to ensure our survival. With each passing generation, our sphere of control of our existence is larger. What if the earth is hit by an asteroid or there is no way to stop global warming? We look to colonize other planets. The fate of our species, in a few years, will not be tied to the fate of the earth. Our home planet must be cared for ... but as we go interplanetary and then interstellar, our control on our lives and the evolution of our species grows. As far as we know, we are the only species that has a say in the development of its future.”

“You can’t write, yet you learned to hunt, to survive. How?” I paused with my foot on the threshold. “That’s what happens when you’re responsible for lives other than your own, isn’t it? You do what you have to do.” He was still sitting on the table, still straddling that inner line between the here and now and wherever he’d had to go in his mind to endure the fight with the Bogge. I met his feral and glowing stare. “You aren’t what I expected—for a human.”

“You’ve got to trust yourself. Be gentle with yourself. And listen to yourself. You’re the only person who can get you through this now. You’re the only one who can survive your story, the only one who can write your future. All you’ve got to do, when you’re ready, is stand up, {and begin again.}”

“I was mistaken when I said you live in my heart. How absurd I was when you live in my fingertips so that everything I touch is you. How foolish I was when you live in my toes so that everywhere I go there's you. How senseless of me to say you live in my heart when you breathe in my lungs, walk on my mind, and drink in my mouth. I came to pen another poem for you, but even every unwritten poem is you.”

“I spent all night weaving a poem for you to wear. You look so beautiful when you wear my light.”