Writers Quotes About Writers

 

According to Edward Bylwer-Lyton, "The pen is mightier than the sword". Here you will find really hilarious and deeply insightful quotes about writing and being a writer.

Being a writer myself, I am constantly collecting quotes and snippets of thought in a notebook and have been doing so for decades. I suppose you can call them my pearls of wisdom. Here are my favorites, which have provided insight, encouragement, comfort, humor and guidance along this path of creative evolution that I continue to nurture within myself.

• "Without knowing the force of words, it is impossible to know men." - Confucius
• "I've been to a lot of places and done a lot of things, but writing was always first. It's a kind of pain I can't do without." - Robert Penn Warren
• "Writing is easy. All you have to do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead." - Gene Fowler
• "I have made this a rather long letter because I haven't had time to make it shorter." - Blaise Pascal

Gore Vidal

 

• "I am an obsessive re-writer, doing one draft and then another and another, usually five. In a way, I have nothing to say but a great deal to add."- Gore Vidal
• "What is so wonderful about great literature is that it transforms the man who reads it towards the condition of the man (or woman) who wrote it." - E.M. Forster
• "It's not the college degree that makes a writer. The great thing is to have a story to tell." - Polly Adler
• "To see one's name in print! Some people commit a crime for no other reason." - Gustave Flaubert

Winston Churchill

• "Writing a book is an adventure. It begins as an amusement, then it becomes a mistress, then a master, and finally a tyrant." - Winston Churchill
• "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein." - Red Smith
• "The writer must believe that what he is doing is the most important thing in the world. And he must hold to this illusion even when he knows it is not true." - John Steinbeck
• "What no wife of a writer can ever understand is that a writer is working when he's staring out the window." - Burton Rascoe

Ernest Hemingway

• "The most essential gift for a good writer is a built-in shit detector. This is the writer's radar and all great writers have had it." - Ernest Hemingway
• "An author who speaks about his own books is almost as bad as a mother who talks about her own children" - Benjamin Disraeli
• "Reading makes a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man." - Francis Bacon
• "All a writer has to do to get a woman is to say he's a writer. It's an aphrodisiac." - Saul Bellow

Truman Capote

• "Finishing a book is (as if) you took a child out in the yard and shot it." - Truman Capote
• "One of the signs of Napoleon's greatness is that he once had a publisher (put to death)." - Siegfied Unseld
• "In composing, as a general rule, run you pen through every other word you have written: you have no idea what vigor it will give your style." - Sydney Smith
• "The career of a writer is comparable to that of a woman of easy virtue. You write first for pleasure, later for the pleasure of others, and finally for money." - Marcel Achard

William Faulkner

• "Everything goes by the board: honor, pride, decency....to get the book written." - William Faulkner
• "It is not my experience that society hates and fears the writer, or that society adulates the writer. Instead, my experience is the common one. That society places the writer so far beyond the pale that society does not regard the writer at all." - Anne Dillard
• "People who write fiction, if they had not taken it up, might have become very successful liars." - Ernest Hemingway
• "If you want to get rich from writing, write the sort of thing that's read by (those) who move their lips when they are reading to themselves." - Don Maquis

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Within The Shadows Of The Soul

 

 

In the silent chambers, deep and wide,
Where hidden rivers of sorrow glide,
A flicker hums, a subtle light,
A distant star in endless night.

There within the shadows of the soul,
Where fractured dreams and memories toll,
A quiet strength begins to rise,
Beneath the dark, an endless sky.

The world we carry, layered, vast,
With echoes of the ancient past,
Where hopes are forged and doubts reside,
Is both a fortress and a guide.

Through woven threads of loss and pain,
The soul renews like gentle rain;
Each scar a map, each ache a door
To something braver, something more.

For there in depths where fears take root,
Lie seeds of courage bearing fruit—
They find their way through cracked terrain,
Blooming boldly after rain.

What once was broken, worn, and bruised,
Now finds in darkness a brighter muse—
For shadows are not voids to fear
But hidden fires burning clear.

The veils of doubt, so thick and stark,
Can’t cloak the ember, nor the spark,
That grows until it’s fierce and true,
Illuminating all you knew.

So, tread with courage, trust the night,
For even there abides the light;
In shadows deep, where we must roam,
The soul unearths its quiet home.

For darkness is not end or loss,
But passage over to the gloss
Of self unknown and soul unseen,
The bridge between what is and dream.

Within these depths, your spirit whole,
Awakens strong, a fearless soul.
And where once lingered pain and fear,
Now shines a life profound, sincere.

A symphony born from silent cries,
The shadows lift as dawn will rise,
And there in truth, the heart will know—
The light it seeks was always so.

Brenda Parks

Guardian Of Freedom

 

To you who stand on distant shores,
Where waves collide and thunder roars,
With weary eyes and weathered hands,
You bear the weight of foreign lands.

Through silent nights and skies of gray,
In hostile lands so far away,
You march through dawn, through dust, through dread,
With courage fierce and vows unsaid.

In lands unknown, beneath strange stars,
You carry freedom’s wounds and scars,
While back at home we live our lives,
Secure in peace your strength provides.

Far from the warmth of fireside light,
You guard our dreams throughout the night.
In every stride and breath you take,
You shield our world for freedom’s sake.

For every mile you walk alone,
In places where the sun has shone
On fallen friends, on battles won,
Your purpose stands, your will stays strong.

Through burning sands and bitter frost,
You count the gain, accept the cost.
For liberty, for hope’s bright flame,
You fight with valor, in freedom’s name.

When fear grows dark and danger near,
When heavy hearts are worn by fear,
You rise with strength we cannot see,
Your courage keeps us safe and free.

And while we sleep in beds secure,
Unbothered by the threats you cure,
Your vigil keeps the darkness far,
You stand our shield, our morning star.

The flag soars high because of you,
Its stars alight, its stripes in view.
Each breath you take, each wound you bear,
Ensures our freedom’s tender care.

Though words can scarcely meet the weight
Of what you’ve done, of what you face,
We raise our voices, hands, and hearts,
To honor all that you impart.

So here’s to you, defenders brave,
Who cross the earth, the skies, the waves,
To guard a land you love so deep,
To give us dreams we hold and keep.

May peace return to calm your stride,
May home embrace you, arms open wide.
Let love and rest become your guide
When battle’s end bids you abide.

And let each dawn remind us all
Of those who answered freedom’s call,
The shield, the hope, the guiding light
That holds the line for freedom’s right.

 

Brenda Parks

The Cosmic Dance, Unseen

 

In hidden chambers of ancient time,
Celestial Wisdom rests, unseen,
a silent rhythm, pulsing low
through depths of thought and mystery.

This is the cosmic dance, unknown—
a soundless song, a whispered beat,
woven through stars, through planets' pull,
binding the vastness in its sweep.

Magnetic tides rise and recede,
and solar winds like rivers flow,
across the veils of scattered light,
connecting what we cannot know.

They carry whispers through the dark,
where galaxies are softly spun,
and threads of night and morning meet,
their pathways forged by moon and sun.

Through hidden gates and blackened holes,
the dance moves on, from cell to star,
from birth to vastness, boundless space,
where all things meet, both near and far.

In fractal depths, creation stirs,
each spiral twined with ghostly grace,
a pattern formed yet ever new,
in every time, in every place.

The gods move too, within this flow;
their silent touch, a spark of grace,
the inner voice that speaks to us,
the wisdom felt in quiet space.

What poets call divine and pure,
the spark that moves the artist's hand,
is but the echo of their song,
the pulse that weaves what we demand.

To join this dance, both saint and fool
must empty heart and open mind,
listening past the world’s loud hum
to hear what stirs beyond the blind.

For those who hush the noise within,
and drift like leaves on unseen streams,
may hear the music of the stars,
the silent language of our dreams.

The rhythm flows in endless form,
a soundless pulse, a thread unseen—
binding our lives in mystery,
within this cosmic dance serene.

And in this unseen dance we find
a stillness at the heart of all,
where every atom, wave, and soul
responds in time to its deep call.

 Brenda Parks

Rise Beyond The Shadow

 

 

In shadows deep, where fear resides,
A voice persists, in darkness hides—
It whispers doubts, spreads seeds of dread,
Hopes to rule what we have bred.

But we are more than whispered lies,
Than brittle fear in darkened skies;
We are the strength that holds the light,
The force that rises through the night.

Let those who clamor, rant, and rave
Be hollow echoes in the cave,
For we hold truths they cannot twist,
In every hope, in every fist.

Our voices weave a brighter song,
For those who know where they belong—
Not bending low to fear's demands,
But standing tall with open hands.

Our love’s too fierce, our hope too strong,
To yield to what would make us wrong.
Through clouds and storms, we still believe—
A brighter dawn, a chance to grieve,

Then build again with hands of grace,
For we refuse to lose this place.
In unity, we plant our claim—
This land, this truth, this holy flame.

We are victors, not vanquished souls,
Our fire ignites, our spirit rolls.
No lie, no plot, no scheme can bind
The power held in hearts aligned.

They'll shout their fears, they'll brandish might,
But we stand tall, and we stand right.
For we are heirs of truth and will,
A steady force, alive and still.

Through trials, through tempests, we remain—
Our dreams are carved from joy and pain.
We’ll hold this ground, we’ll sow and reap,
And guard the promises we keep.

Together, we are iron-willed,
Each voice a bridge, each hope fulfilled.
This world, this life, our hearts defend—
Our courage grows; we do not bend.

For we are victors, strong and free,
The ones who shape our destiny.
Against all odds, we press ahead,
To brighter days, to paths unsaid.

Let history know our strength is vast,
Our roots run deep, our banners cast.
In every step, in every breath,
We rise above the fear of death.

We are the light, the dawn renewed,
Not bound to break or to be subdued.
We hold this truth, forever claimed—
We are the victors, undismayed.