Quotes & Sayings About Artists Being Crazy

your shadow is not your shadow
but your reflection, — Margaret Atwood

A bad song for a night such as this, mayhap, but her heart went its own way without much interest in what her head thought or wanted; always had. — Stephen King

There is something akin to freedom in having a lover who has no control over you, except that which he gains by kindness and attachment — Harriet Jacobs

Grief broke down in phrases
And extrapolated lines
From me without myself
Tear-stained pillow of stone
I felt I was lying
Beside him in the coffin
Wormy mother
Who takes us into the ground
With her whenever and wherever
She wants the grass glistens
And grows over us in the heat
Of late summer in the country — Edward Hirsch

To say something nice about themselves, this is the hardest thing in the world for people to do. — Nancy Friday

Nature is forever arriving and forever departing, forever approaching, forever vanishing; but in her vanishings there seems to be ever the waving of a hand, in all her partings a promise of meetings farther along the road. — Richard Le Gallienne

A night of crying has silenced me. This morning it seems the whole world is against me. I've never before felt so barren, so empty. I've never before thought the daylight to be ... my enemy. My enemy. — Shaun Hick

Pretending to be 'normal' is a lot harder than you think. — Sue Grafton

It's almost as if we're afraid of words. They hang in the air, unspoken, and then seeing that they're not going to be used, they shrivel and die. — Crystal

(Bill) Terry, you can ask for more money in the winter and do less in the summer than any ballplayer I know. — John McGraw

No society is so precious as that of one's own family. — Thomas Jefferson

I have invented nothing. I have simply documented a magical alchemy that I want to share. — Gregory Colbert

There is to the poetical sense a ravishing prophecy and winsome intimation in flowers that now and then, from the influence of mood of circumstance, reasserts itself like the reminiscence of childhood, or the spell of love. — Henry Theodore Tuckerman

She hurried down the stairs on the side of the carriage house, but when she rounded the corner and saw Max standing beside the roadster wiping his greasy hands on a rag, she stopped. She couldn't help herself. He just had a presence - or something - about him that made it impossible for her not to notice him. Be distracted by him. Respond to him. Succumb to him. What was it she had just been planning to do...? — Elizabeth Bevarly

You know your heart and soul are stapled to that manuscript, but what we see are the words on the paper — Teresa Nielsen Haydense