Muse Quotes - Page 2

Thy eyes hold countless stars yet to be discovered.

One must give himself completely to his art and not hold back. Throw caution to the wind. Embrace the muse. Make love to your art.

There is this pain of love. You experience it some moments. It begins like a strange gnawing in your heart. It then spreads slowly. Spreads to the whole body. You fall deeply into it. This feeling.

I'm just a wretched half-blood girl caught in a storm."Akil tasted his wine and smiled. "Muse, you are the storm.

Life is the muse which perfectly rhymes,Plays with the words and fills empty lines.For some, life is battle for others, it’s danceFor rich it is a party for the poor it is chance.For lovers, it’s dizziness, it’s a dream, it’s romanceFor Artist it’s drop of the rain on his hands.For a writer, it’s a story for an actor it’s stageFor painter it’s a canvas for thief, it’s the cage.For you it might be the money you blewFor someone the entire life could be you!

...you do violence with your words if you force them - art is given - the words received, moment by moment from unseen hands - call it a Muse ...

She loves me like the star loves the sky.

He was no god, just an artist; and when an artist is a man, he needs a woman to create like a god.

Inspiration is the windfall from hard work and focus. Muses are too unreliable to keep on the payroll.

sometimes i wake upin the middleof the nightand findpoetry splatteredall over my bed.

He always thought a muse should be sex on legs.

To see her is to be seduced by her.

Audrey, if you had the choice, would you rather be his muse or be in his arms?" "I want to be both. I know it's the exception rather than the rule, but I can't hepl what I want.

Remember, the village idiot was the spiritual man who built the ark and saved his family. Keep being you and never give up marching to the beat of your own drum!

If I ever saw my muse she would be an old woman with a tight bun and spectacles poking me in the middle of the back and growling, "Wake up and write the book!

...you want things to remain the same, which they never can, and so you’re wounded by your own feelings & resentful others don’t seem to care...

A sacrifice is not about expecting God to break the bond you have with another person. You make the sacrifice on your own because God is more important than the bond.

Become my muse. And let me paint you with my words...

Sometimes he does talk back, but sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he’s not there; and from time to time I believe this was all nothing but imaginary.

Creativity is when a stupid clever soul gets up from bed and do amazing things that makes the world think he is wise.

Flora was in that state where the spirit may be willing but the flesh is weak and wishes to go on holiday - and where the flesh in most cases wins hands down with a packed suitcase. It did so now. So she did what many a researcher both great and insignificant does when they are stuck. She yawned while contemplating how to catch the Muse by surprising Her. Almost invariably, the Muse has seen it all before - and also yawns.

You are the rainbow that adds color to my gray skies.

Unrequited love is the infinite curse of a lonely heart.

Fighting demons is what I do; real, and those in my head.

In the blackness of the midnight sleep world, immunized from the harsh glare of daytime reality, the active imagination of the soul dances in the mind of a dream weaver. Safely shrouded in the all-encompassing blanket of darkness supplied by nighttime sleep, our secret wishes speak to us by channeling the collective mythology of the primordial mind. During the wee hours of night, right before first light, we summon our personal muse to tell us in operatic fashion what it means to be human. If we listen carefully, our muse’s heart songs shares with us what it means to experience both the tragedy and comedy of life, and encourages us to unreservedly embrace in a moral manner the banality, brutality, beauty, and splendor of nature that occurs eternally in the cosmic world that swaddles us.

Your gracefulness and feminine charms always so tender, you make my heart smile and wonder!

Sometimes there is no right thing. Sometimes wrong wins, and that's okay. Life doesn't have cooker-cutters for right and wrong, Ryder. There's that messy gray area in between, and I sure hope I'm not the one staring down the barrel of your gun when you figure that out." Muse ~ Darkest Before Dawn. #3 The Veil Series

...I worship at the temple of your body and without you, I'd have no art...

What you seem to forget is that I'm not one of the embodiments of evil. I'm one of the embodiments of fear. That means I know what makes evil quake in the light of the sun.

The life of a writer is directed by a mad impulsive muse, that can tell them to cancel all their storyline: a creative divergent devil.

Forcing the muse to let thoughts flow; equals to pushing a child, into labor.

In her inestimable audacity, Julia was the catalyst in my life for something beautiful. I hadn't anticipated her—hadn't even wanted her, truthfully—but there she was. A little something extra that made all the difference in the world.

What a face this girl possessed!—could I not gaze at it every day I would need to recreate it through painting, sculpture, or fatherhood until a second such face is born.

She cured me of my sadness.

We are servants of the Mystery. We were put here on earth to act as agents of the Infinite, to bring into existence that which is not yet, but which will be, through us. Every breath we take, every heartbeat, every evolution of every cell comes from God and is sustained by God every second, just as every creation, invention, every bar of music or line of verse, every thought, vision, fantasy, every dumb-ass flop and stroke of genius comes from that infinite intelligence that created us and the universe in all its dimensions, out of the Void, the field of infinite potential, primal chaos, the Muse. To acknowledge that reality, to efface all ego, to let the work come through us and give it back freely to its source, that, in my opinion, is as true to reality as it gets.

And tonight the stars again ask me your name?And I just smile, playing the guessing game!

Words are beads on the strings of sentences. So make a beautiful necklace!

I had to revise all my feelings once again. I pulled out the dregs of affection from the glass of misunderstanding to rebuild my faith. I had to reinvent the cause for love, as it were. It was something I had to draw inside me, a real portrait of her, not just the inspiration but the girl as a whole, with all her shortcomings to be able to love her again.

Masochists hold on to broken people. Artists hold on to broken memories.

When demons call you the Mother of Destruction, sh*t gets real." Muse.

I am privileged to have your illuminating presence in my life that adds etherealness to my existence!

A true leader leads for the sake of love and his knowledge of the path, a bad leader redirects his followers to the path of destruction.

some poems frothand foam and rise...out of my morning cup ofmist-sweetened coffee.

The real comic muse is the one underwhose laughing mask tears roll down.

Lovely thoughts came flying to meet me like birds. They weren't my thoughts. I couldn't think anything half so exquisite. They came from somewhere.

Did you know that Bharatiyar used the pen name “Shelley-dasan”? He admired the poems of Shelley so deeply that he wrote under the name “Shelley’s servant”. Wasn’t that a wonderful gesture of humility by someonewho was such a great poet himself? And later, Bharatiyar had his own dasan, the poet Subburathinam, who tookthe pen name Bharathidasan. Subburathinam’s poetry inspired yet another poet who wrote as Surada, short for Subburathina-dasan. And to think this long chain of inspiration spans centuries, going back to the poets who inspired Wordsworth, who inspired Shelley, who inspired our own Bharati.

I am no writer. Her sparkling eyes made my fingers write words in the sand, Her radiant smile made my pen write words in the air. Her beautiful soul made my typewriter type poems for eternity. I am no writer.

The muses are ghosts, and sometimes they come uninvited.

I know not what it is about you that makes me go crazy but I do know that the radiance in your eyes is more dazzling than that in all the diamonds of this world!And that the inimitable fragrance of your skin is more sublime than that of all the perfumes of this world!

Half demon, half human, wholly f*cked." ~ Muse

Everything about you resonates happinessNo I won't settle for less

You should be more carefulwhen you move, my dearwhat with you...spilling moonlightinto my poem, with a mereflick of your hand.

...If I ever got sloppy and maudlin, it would be for the streets of my childhood—but no self- respecting writer should ever eulogize a slum...

We had the longest kisses under the Acacia tree.

You came into my life like the rain to the parched desert!

Muses work all day long and then at night get together and dance...

There is also a third kind of madness, which is possession by the Muses, enters into a delicate and virgin soul, and there inspiring frenzy, awakens lyric....But he, who, not being inspired and having no touch of madness in his soul, comes to the door and thinks he will get into the temple by the help of art--he, I say, and his poetry are not admitted; the sane man is nowhere at all when he enters into rivalry with the madman.

Speaking Akil’s name around Stefan felt like throwing gasoline on a bushfire." ~ Muse

I get a kick out of cursing people for life on Sundays.

I'm not a concept. Too many guys think I'm a concept or I complete them or I'm going to 'make them alive'…but I'm just a fucked up girl who's looking for my own peace of mind. Don't assign me yours.