Mutah Beale Quotes & Sayings

I know it's corny, but laughter is a two-way gift, and hearing people laugh just warms me through and through. — Andy Dick

All art is at once surface and symbol. Those who go beneath the surface do so at their peril. Those who read the symbol do so at their peril. It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors. Diversity of opinion about a work of art shows that the work is new, complex and vital. — Oscar Wilde

Women who set a low value of themselves make life hard for all women. — Nellie L. McClung

So," I said. "Seems you're going to be stuck with me for a while."
He smiled. A real smile that lit up his whole face.
"Good, — Kelley Armstrong

Dwelling

As though touching her
might make him known to himself,

as though his hand moving
over her body might find who
he is, as though he lay inside her, a country

his hand's traveling uncovered,
as though such a country arose
continually up out of her
to meet his hand's setting forth and setting forth.

And the places on her body have no names.
And she is what's immense about the night.
And their clothes on the floor are arranged
for forgetfulness. — Li-Young Lee

That no one dies of migraine seems to someone deep in an attack as an ambiguous blessing. — Joan Didion

Anyways, the epiphany I just had was this. Maybe guys like me who write with bad grammar and all and sound like what you might think a dipshit should sound like, actually aren't dipshits. We're just regular Joes, makin' the world go 'round. It's those fucks who talk and write so smooth and perfect that they make you feel like a dumbass because you don't. Maybe they're the dipshits. — Bobby Adair

It's very expressive of myself. I just lump everything into a great heap which I have labelled "the past" and, having thus emptied this deep reservoir that was once myself, I am ready to continue.'
They sat together in the pleasant gloom of late afternoon, staring at each other through the remains of the party; the silver glasses, the silver tray, the traces of many perfumes; they sat together watching the twilight flow through the calm living room that they were leaving like the clear cold current of a trout stream. — Zelda Fitzgerald

The characters act for reasons that they can't control and, as readers, we have to believe in their motivations, their sense of choice and in the reality of their suffering, even though, deep down, we know it's all just puppetry on the part of the writer. — Johnny Rich