I was about 13, in some ways, when I wrote the first book. Approximately 18 when I wrote the second.
quote by Jonathan Franzen
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Related quotes
Book Of Love
Oh, I wonder, wonder who
But who knew who
Who wrote the book of love
Tell me, tell me, tell me
Who wrote the book of love
Well, Ive got to know the answer
Is it someone from above
Oh, I wonder, wonder who
But who knew who
Who wrote the book of love
Baby, baby, baby
I love you, yes I do
And it says so in this book of love
That Im the one thats true
Oh, I wonder, wonder who
But who knew who
Who wrote the book of love
Chapter one says you love her
You love her with all your heart
Chapter two says youll never
You never, never... never gonna part
Chapter tree, remember
The meaning of romance
In chapter four you break up
Oh, wont you give me just one more chance
Oh, I wonder, wonder who
But who knew who
Who wrote the book of love
I wonder who
Who wrote the book of love
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No More
I wrote my name on the seashore
The waves came and it was no more
I wrote my name in the air
The wind came and it was no more
I wrote my name in the sky
The clouds came and it was no more
I wrote my name in the puddles
The sun came and it was no more
i wrote my name in the dust
The rain came and it was no more
One day Gabriel wrote my name
and alas! i was no more
poem by Humna Hamid
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His Booklover
and so it came to pass
that his book lover
that he loves so much
skipped the book that he wrote
in years,
feeling dejected
he wrote another one
intended for the one
who is willing
to have him.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Book Of Love
Written by lindsey buckingham and richard dashut.
Walked out, goodbye
I swore I never would cry
Tore a page of my heart
She wants me to be her friend
Im lonely again
Tore a page of my heart
Oh, tell me who wrote the book of love
Was it somebody from above
(ha, ha, ha)
Surely he must know all the rules
(ha, ha, ha)
Knowledge not meant for mortal fools
Must have been someone from above
Tell me, who wrote the book of love
In silence the lonely make all their mistakes
Tore a page of my heart
Someone in heaven above
Shop me how to love
Tore a page of my heart
Oh, tell me who wrote the book of love
Was it somebody from above
(ha, ha, ha)
Surely he must know all the rules
(ha, ha, ha)
Knowledge not meant for mortal fools
Must have been someone from above
Tell me, who wrote the book of love
Oh, tell me who wrote the book of love
Was it somebody from above
(ha, ha, ha)
Surely he must know all the rules
(ha, ha, ha)
Knowledge not meant for mortal fools
Must have been someone from above
Tell me, who wrote the book of love
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is not half cooked
Having heard and read, I wrote.
Having seen and felt, I wrote.
I wrote of love and romance
From experience and perception.
As I wrote I was soothed.
Don’t scorn my writings as half cooked.
10.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Writers are frequently asked why they wrote their first book. A more interesting answer might come from asking them why they wrote their second one.
quote by Len Deighton
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What's funny about Jesus' Son is that I never even wrote that book, I just wrote it down. I would tell these stories and people would say, You should write these things down.
quote by Denis Johnson
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All She Wrote
Something's wrong with your mind
It won't think of me anymore
Was it all a waste of time
Tell me why was I such a chore
Broken glass lies empty
Cut my voice so I can't say
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Lying here in your bed
The one that you liked to do it in
Pieces of long brown hair
Are all over it and still in my brain
I can't explain
What it's like not knowing if I'll ever cross your mind
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Sleep through the day
Fight with the night
Seven a.m. and the tv is white
Covered in snow
I never knew that hell could get so cold
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Today was that day
It was that time
And that was all that she wrote for me
You fell away
I don't know why
And that was all that she wrote for me
Something's wrong with your mind
It won't think of me anymore
Was it all a waste of time
song performed by by Default
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Legends, Elegies, Pleasures And Norma Jean
The man who wrote Legends of the Fall
Wrote; 'Don't fall in love as if fallin' off a dock at night'
But when you are struck by the thunderbolt
How do you not fall?
The man who wrote the Duino Elegies
Wrote; 'Beauty is only the start of bearable terror'
But to be stuck without beauty
Is unbearable
The woman formerly know as Norma Jean
Wrote; 'I know from life one cannot love another'
I know what she meant, but to love you
How can I not?
The man who wrote The Pleasures of Hope
Wrote; 'How hard it is to find the one just suited to our mind! '
But it is just a little too easy to find one
Who is ill suited
From Legends, Elegies, Pleasures and Norma Jean
What they wrote is unforgettable
And that is what you are muse, though near or far
In every way
poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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A Linda Song
Music: Barry Manilow
Lyrics: Enoch Anderson
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He never wrote a song for Linda
He wrote as though he lived alone
He wrote of dreams that end
And of sad brave men
Inventing worlds he'd never known
But he never wrote a song for Linda
And she was right there all along
Loved him back to life
When his luck ran low
But he never wrote a Linda song
He nearly broke his heart at writing
Linda kept him from despair
Standin' by his side
through the hungry days
But he hardly seemed to see her there
And he never wrote a song for Linda
And she was right there all along
The one real thing in his crazy world
And he never wrote a Linda song.
When the bills piled up
He couldn't pay
He couldn't dream no more
So he hitched a ride and he rode away
And he left a note for Linda by the door
By the door
When times got rough he'd phone her
Once or twice she took the call
Then she changed her number and she turned her head
And Linda never looked back at all
He'll never write a song for Linda
And she was right there all along
All he knows is no one understands
And he never wrote a Linda song
No he never wrote a Linda song
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lost poem
It was on this page, then gone
Like feathers blowing in the wind.
Where is the prose I wrote?
Not a letter is in sight.
I am looking with all my might.
Oh where is the prose I wrote?
Today I wrote a new poem,
Was it lost in cyberspace?
I hope not for I might not know it,
Even staring at me in the face.
Give me a break, my memories are at stake.
Oh where is the prose I wrote?
They Call It Gentle and Smile
The Sun wrote a poem
That is morning
The Moon wrote a poem
That is evening
I wrote a poem
That is love
You wrote a poem on your lips
They fondly call it gentle and smile
poem by Kavin Charalan
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I wrote The Same Sea not as a political allegory about Israelis and Palestinians. I wrote it about something much more gutsy and immediate. I wrote it as a piece of chamber music.
My sense of a poem - my notion of how you revise - is: you get yourself into a state where what you are intensely conscious of is not why you wrote it or how you wrote it, but what you wrote.
quote by Philip Levine
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I wrote that letter, and the one to Nixon. And I wrote more letters, and I thought it might be a magazine article. At that time I sent it to Esquire and Playboy, but anyway, I kept writing, and all of sudden I had enough and thought, well maybe it is a book.
quote by Don Novello
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Freedom of writing dying
I wrote about one and was taken to court.
I wrote about a sect and was taken to task.
I wrote about a religion and was beaten.
What else to write to serve the purpose
Other than the glory of love and war
And flattering the people in the helm?
03.02.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Note You Never Wrote
Later on, the story goes,
A bottle floated out to sea.
After days, when it had found the perfect spot,
It opened up,
And I read the note that you never wrote to me
After all, Im sure you know,
The mayor of baltimore is here.
After days now he can finally appear,
Now at last hes here,
But he never is gonna get my vote,
cause he never is gonna get a quote
From the little note
That you never wrote to me.
Further on, along the line,
I was arrested on the shore,
Holding papers of governments galore.
I was taken in,
But I read the note that you never wrote.
Yes, I read the note that you never wrote.
Oh, I read the note that you never wrote to me.
To me.
To me.
To me.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Been There Done That
I've seen the devil,
Stared him straight in the eyes.
Danced in his fire on my darkest nights.
Laid in his garden an' I drank his wine.
Slept with temptation to laugh at salvation:
It almost saved me alive.
Oh, I've been there done that, had my thrill:
Ain't goin' back again.
I was the life of every party,
It nearly did me in.
I was the baddest man you've ever seen,
Lord, I wrote the book on sin.
Yeah, I been down that road,
I ain't goin' back again.
I caused more damage than a hurricane.
I broke your heart an' didn't feel a thing. (I walked.)
Then walked away and cursed your name in vain. (Cursed your name.)
But with you as my witness,
You gave me forgiveness,
Now I've got a second chance.
Oh, I've been there done that, had my thrill:
Ain't goin' back again.
I was the life of every party,
It nearly did me in.
I was the baddest man that you've ever seen,
Lord, I wrote the book on sin.
Yeah, I been down that road.
He's knockin' at my door,
Ain't walkin' round here no more.
Been there, done that,
Ain't goin' back again, no!
Instrumental Break.
I was the baddest mother that you've ever seen,
Lord, I wrote the book on sin.
Been there, done that,
Ain't goin' back again.
I was the life of every party,
It nearly did me in.
I was the baddest man that you've ever seen,
Lord, I wrote the book on sin.
Yeah, I been down that road.
I ain't goin' back again,
Oh, no!
Been there, done that.
I was the life of the party, yeah.
(Been there, done that.)
To fade.
song performed by by Van Zant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Masterpiece
It's slim and trim and bound in blue;
Its leaves are crisp and edged with gold;
Its words are simple, stalwart too;
Its thoughts are tender, wise and bold.
Its pages scintillate with wit;
Its pathos clutches at my throat:
Oh, how I love each line of it!
That Little Book I Never Wrote.
In dreams I see it praised and prized
By all, from plowman unto peer;
It's pencil-marked and memorized,
It's loaned (and not returned, I fear);
It's worn and torn and travel-tossed,
And even dusky natives quote
That classic that the world has lost,
The Little Book I Never Wrote.
Poor ghost! For homes you've failed to cheer,
For grieving hearts uncomforted,
Don't haunt me now. . . . Alas! I fear
The fire of Inspiration's dead.
A humdrum way I go to-night,
From all I hoped and dreamed remote:
Too late . . . a better man must write
That Little Book I Never Wrote.
poem by Robert William Service
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In The Day's When We Are Dead
Listen! The end draws nearer,
Nearer the morning—or night—
And I see with a vision clearer
That the beginning was right!
These shall be words to remember
When all has been done and said,
And my fame is a dying ember
In the days when I am dead.
Listen! We wrote in sorrow,
And we wrote by candle light;
We took no heed of the morrow,
And I think that we were right—
(To-morrow, but not the day after,
And I think that we were right).
We wrote of a world that was human
And we wrote of blood that was red,
For a child, or a man, or a woman—
Remember when we are dead.
Listen! We wrote not for money,
And listen! We wrote not for fame—
We wrote for the milk and the honey
Of Kindness, and not for a name.
We paused not, nor faltered for any,
Though many fell back where we led;
We wrote of the few for the many—
Remember when we are dead.
We suffered as few men suffer,
Yet laughed as few men laugh;
We grin as the road grows rougher,
And a bitterer cup we quaff.
We lived for Right and for Laughter,
And we fought for a Nation ahead—
Remember it, friends, hereafter,
In the years when I am dead—
For to-morrow and not the day after,
For ourselves, and a Nation ahead.
poem by Henry Lawson
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