Rugenfisch Quotes & Sayings

Another quite useful and healthy outlet for anger is writing. Even if you "can't write." Because actually, if you can speak, you can write. It's just a period of adjustment using your fingers instead of your mouth. But if you write - or type - exactly what you're thinking, without even a single change, when you read it, whatever you wrote will sound like you, talking. That's writing. No MFA required. Especially if what you're going to write is a letter. — Augusten Burroughs

If you're looking for lollipops and rainbows while you shop for the latest best seller, you best not come to me. I won't chat you up and tell you how cute your kid is. I won't smile and flirt. I won't stroke your ego about the jewelry you are wearing or the shirt you have on. I will help you find what you need. I will recommend books and hell I even talk about what I liked about one book over another but all that other shit is just not my thing. — J.L. Mac

There hasn't been one moment in my career where I felt I didn't have any control over the creative aspects of my records. — Enrique Iglesias

The soul dies at the hand of the one who carries it. — Kami Garcia

We lie to each other all the time, remember?' she said with an amused smile.
'Tell me,' Archie said, 'and I'll believe you. — Chelsea Cain

I don't think I'm the best singer in the world, for sure, but I loved doing it [in Into the Woods] ... I'll always find it tough, singing in front of people. — Emily Blunt

The hour has come to leave for the meeting place where I show him my face. He shall see the dark fire of my eyes and hear the wild wind in my voice. He will feel my presence full of stars, scanning his soul, and he shall know my raw power in his bones. I go to the meeting place where he will surrender to my fierce energy. The dancing, brooding passion goes in the cloak of night to where the human dares not go, but must. I am his destiny and his death, and he knows not my name. — Robert Lloyd

It seems to me that when confronted with the marvels of life and the universe, one must ask why and not just how. The only possible answers are religious ... I find a need for God in the universe and in my own life. — Arthur Leonard Schawlow

I had been on the road for a long time and was not really getting anywhere. Bob Johnston, a friend of mine, had taken over Columbia in Nashville. He asked me if I wanted to come down. I did - thank God I did. — Charlie Daniels

Neither black/red/yellow nor woman but poet or writer. For many of us, the question of priorities remains a crucial issue. Being merely "a writer" without a doubt ensures one a status of far greater weight than being "a woman of color who writes" ever does. Imputing race or sex to the creative act has long been a means by which the literary establishment cheapens and discredits the achievements of non-mainstream women writers. She who "happens to be" a (non-white) Third World member, a woman, and a writer is bound to go through the ordeal of exposing her work to the abuse and praises and criticisms that either ignore, dispense with, or overemphasize her racial and sexual attributes. Yet the time has passed when she can confidently identify herself with a profession or artistic vocation without questioning and relating it to her color-woman condition. — Trinh T. Minh-ha

Weapons seem to be the issue now, isn't it?" "Aye," said Billy. "The Germans and the Italians are supplying the rebels with guns and ammunition, as well as fighter planes and pilots. But no one is helping the elected Spanish government. — Ken Follett

Like mighty eagle soaring light. O'er antelopes on Alpine height. The anchor heaves, the ship swings free, The sails swell full. To sea, to sea! — Thomas Lovell Beddoes

If the first lady is concerned about this Internet cycle, what would she have done during the heyday when there was 12, 13 editions of a paper in one day? What would she have done with that news cycle? — Matt Drudge

In that fraction of an instant between when that person stops singing and when that person decides to rise from the bed and disappear-a tiny rehearsal, though you do not yet know it, of what will eventually happen for good-time holds still, and you can feel, through your closed eyes, how that person, watching your still, small face in the darkness, has suddenly realized that you are the reason his life matters. — Dara Horn