The process of writing has something infinite about it. Even though it is interrupted each night, it is one single notation.
quote by Elias Canetti
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
The mother and the artist
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of wonderfully emollient freshness; every
unfurling instant of impregnably magnificent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of spellbindingly undefeated innocence; every
unfurling instant of symbiotically pristine existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of timelessly unconquerable truth; every unfurling
instant of bounteously magnanimous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unfathomably unfettered creativity; every
unfurling instant of timelessly burgeoning existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of royally triumphant resplendence; every
unfurling instant of unconquerably majestic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of eternally exhilarating vivaciousness; every
unfurling instant of redolently insuperable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbelievably ameliorating optimism; every
unfurling instant of marvelously benign existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of brilliantly liberated camaraderie; every
unfurling instant of iridescently inscrutable existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unshakably virgin righteousness; every
unfurling instant of beautifully untainted existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of uninhibitedly heavenly frolic; every unfurling
instant of tantalizingly sensuous existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of compassionately humanitarian friendship; every
unfurling instant of magically mitigating existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of miraculously everlasting freshness; every
unfurling instant of invincibly coalescing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of pricelessly ubiquitous oneness; every unfurling
instant of robustly blessed existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unbreakably Omnipotent desire; every unfurling
instant of victoriously effulgent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unceasingly reinvigorating fantasy; every
unfurling minute of poignantly charismatic existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of insurmountably intrepid enchantment; every
unfurling minute of rhapsodically unhindered existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Omnisciently tranquil serenity; every unfurling
instant of endlessly bestowing existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of perpetually fragrant breath; every unfurling
instant of Omnipresently benevolent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of Immortally ardent love; every unfurling instant
of limitlessly fructifying existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fantastically alleviating poetry; every
unfurling instant of boundlessly splendid existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of fabulously effervescent tanginess; every
unfurling instant of spiritually uplifting existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of unlimitedly enlightening Sunshine; every
unfurling instant of infallibly luminescent existence,
A mother might bear just a single child in 9 months; but an artist blossoms
into an infinite children of immaculately godly melody; every unfurling
instant of amiably melanging existence,
Because. And Only Because. A Mother is; has and shall for times immemorial
remain the Greatest Sculptor of every organism on this astoundingly
multiplying Universe; A Mother is the Greatest Artist….
poem by Nikhil Parekh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Single Is Fair
Single
I am single
Question of double
Does not arise.
I am single
Only single.
Single sun
Single moon
Single earth
Single air
Single sky
Sngle water
Single fire
Single soul
Single body
All are there
All are fair.
Single is single
Single is beautiful
Single is fair.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lyric writing is an interesting process in Sonic Youth. There's three people writing now, and we've all had a lot of interest and involvement with expression through words.
quote by Thurston Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Poetry Today
POETRY TODAY
Billions and trillions and zillions of words
Infinite infinite infinite unending ongoing unending infinite
Words and words and words.
And one small reader
Alone in the night
With a half- asleep mind
And a longing
For a bit of beauty,
And inspiration.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From a writing point of view, you now have teams of screenwriters working with a director. What's lost in the process is the power of that one heart, brain, gut and soul that makes something an original piece of writing.
quote by Joe Eszterhas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Letter From A Writer Searching For Her Soul And Wanting To Feel Not With Her Hands
Hello (to whom it may concern) ,
It's been awhile since we exchanged messages. Sorry, I'm not much of an |'onliner' these days. I resigned from my job. I'm, in the process of soul searching. Funny but I don't really know why I'm looking for a soul, my soul, when I cannot even see it. I'm on an unplanned vacation in some quaint town some miles outside the city while writing this email.
I guess I never had the chance to tell you how you took the glint from my eye. To write from the soul and not for the awards. I have overlook that writing is an Art. Thus it is priceless. A gold medal does not define you as an artist. Write until it ceases to become a craft.But more than just stringing words after words, conscious of your weary grammar, punctuations, right words, and subject matter. To write is to turn your heart inside out.
Beyond 'writing' and its technical definitions, it is actually a journey - a self surrender - towards the oblivion you are willing to traverse with your pen. And you find yourself in another state.
To write is to 'see' but not with your eyes. To 'feel' but not with your hands. And at the end of it all, you know that it's there. Writing takes over you. Thus, I often wonder: am i writing with the pen? Or is it the pen using me to write? But I know somewhere deep inside, there is a thing mightier than the pen that prompts me to write. And that is the soul.
I want to find my center. My creative process in writing. Ironic, but to find it, I must loose myself.
hahahahaha. whew. I know i sound stupid. Sorry. Thanks for bearing with me. Hope it's not too late to greet you a Happy New Year! ! ! ! =)
Always,
(name witheld, but this could be you)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The process of creating is related to the process of dreaming although when you are writing you're doing it and when you're dreaming, it's doing you.
quote by Robert Stone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jeannies Diary
How does our world spin
Without me and her nest
Could there really be
Such happiness
Oh, shes got a dark side too
Even murderous
But I love that
Just like here
I dont have a change at writing the book
I just wanna be a page
In jeannies diary
One single page
In jeannies diary
Yes I am intense
Maybe quite obsessed
Everything she does is curious
Oh, shes going to let me in
I just know its so
Then again, who do I kid
I dont have a prayer at writing the book
I just wanna be a page
In jeannies diary
One single page
In jeannies diary
She could have anything she wants
So why not me
She could have anything she dreams
Oh, to be one single page
One single page
One single page in jeannies dairy
song performed by by Eels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Future Affects the Past
The universe has no single history. Light from some quasar
At a distance unholy
Can now be interrupted,
Thus making its origin different,
Shifting time and space itself.
If my own life were to intervene
With all my past mistakes,
The thousands of them,
And those boats I sank
Could be righted,
I would leap at the chance.
My first real love,
A sweet and brilliant girl,
Would be here with me right now;
Then there being no single reason to write this,
As we, in that reality,
Are quite engaged
In each other's hair.
poem by Stan Petrovich
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Great writing is a submission to a creative force that seems to use the writer as an instrument. The writer finds that the words stream out, almost as if someone else were producing them. Writing becomes a process of discovery.
quote by S. O'Brien
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Infinite Love
When you see a shooting star in the night
When you hear the warm wind whisper through the pines
I want you to know
Chorus:
Itll be me and my infinite love for you
Its just like I promised you under heaven above
It will live on long after we kiss goodbye
Forever by your side
My infinite love
When you think someone is callin out your name
When you feel that kind of feelin you cant explain
Now you will know
Repeat Chorus
I want you to know
Repeat Chorus
My infinite love
My infinite love
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Consumed Within the Process
Consumed within the process
That process we call life.
Immuned? Not from this process.
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed within the process.
That process we call life.
Immuned?
Not from this process!
It keeps the vision near yet uncompromised.
And far enough to become realized.
Closing its eyes only when it wishes,
To call itself out!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
It keeps the vision in precision,
Until it's in 'all' sights.
Consumed.
Within the process.
Just consumed.
Within the process this process.
Consumed.
Within the process.
That process called life!
Don't assume...
This process,
Is a process you can't like!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writing On The Wall
Words and music by rick nielsen
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
In the midwest and in the east.
Canada, southwest, around the world,
L.a., tokyo, sounds so sweet,
Come on honey, get on your feet.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
The words were oh, so...
The words were oh, so clear.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
Saw it at the airport, it was on t.v.
Read it in a magazine, runnin down the street.
Makes no sense, but I hope its gonna last,
The next big thing, I really gotta laugh.
Worked and slaved and played like hell,
Everybodys goin crazy, youre the last to know.
Cant explain it, still a joke to me,
Maybe Im naive, cause its so plain to see.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Played like hell, whoa!
Played like hell, whoa!
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Civilization is the process of reducing the infinite to the finite.
quote by Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fate Led Me Too It
sitting in the corner
surrounded by darkness
the light in her eyes
the heart full of hate
the single blade
the single vein
the single dropp of blood
that young boy
this young girl
that dreadful night
the screeching tyres
the shatter of glass
the night that boy left
the other car
the drunken man
the night he drove away
this young girl
this night
this night she joins him too.
poem by Charlotte Marie Peachey
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I Think Im In Love
(cecile azarcon)
Is, this love
Feeling restless inside
Wanting you
To always be my side
I dont even want you out of my side
You are in my thoughts all day and night
I cant get you out of my mind
I think Im in love
Refrain:
I think Im in love
Think Im in love with you
Every single day
Every single night
Every single moment of my life
I want to spend them all with you
I think Im in love
I think Im in love
I think Im in love with you
Tell me that you care
Tell me...please
Tell me that you also feel
The way that I do...
Cant describe
Words are just not enough
Cant explain
It all happened so fast
What exactly am I feeling right now
If this is love I got to know somehow
Just how long this madness will last
cause I think Im in love
I think Im in love
Think Im in love with you
Every single day
Every single night
Every single moment of my life
I want to spend them all with you
I think Im in love
I think Im in love
I think Im in love with you
Tell me that you care
Tell me...please
Tell me that you also feel
The way that I do...
I think Im in love
Think Im in love with you
Every single day
Every single night
Every single moment of my life
I want to spend them all with you
I think Im in love
I think Im in love
I think Im in love with you
Tell me that you care
Tell me...please
Tell me that you also feel
The way that I do...
Ohh ahh...
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Single Day
Not a single day goes by..........
Where she is not in his thoughts
Not a single day goes by..........
Where his heart does not feel
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he does not want to reach out
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he dreams of his love for her
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he does not dream of kissing her
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he does not dream of holding her
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he does not ask. Why?
Not a single day goes by..........
Where she is not his first thought on waking.
Not a single day goes by..........
Where she is not his last thought before sleeping.
Not a single day goes by..........
RG/NB
poem by Robert Green
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Being a librarian certainly helped me with my writing because it made me even more of a reader, and I was always an enthusiastic reader. Writing and reading seem to me to be different aspects of a single imaginative act.
quote by Margaret Mahy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who proclaims the existence of the Infinite, and none can avoid it — accumulates in that affirmation more of the supernatural than is to be found in all the miracles of all the religions; for the notion of the Infinite presents that double character that forces itself upon us and yet is incomprehensible. When this notion seizes upon our understanding we can but kneel ... I see everywhere the inevitable expression of the Infinite in the world; through it the supernatural is at the bottom of every heart. The idea of God is a form of the idea of the Infinite. As long as the mystery of the infinite weighs on human thought, temples will be erected for the worship of the Infinite, whether God is called Brahma, Allah, Jehovah, or Jesus; and on the pavement of these temples, men will be seen kneeling, prostrated, annihilated by the thought of the Infinite.
quote by Louis Pasteur
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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