The artist, like the God of the creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.
Writing poetry is about learning to pare down the poem to the most essential words. Every word used has to be crucial to the poem.
You will find the poet who wrings the heart of the world, or the foremost captain of his time, driving a bargain or paring a potato, just as you would do.
Women are always true, even in the midst of their greatest falsities, because they are always influenced by some natural feeling.
If the human heart sometimes finds moments of pause as it ascends the slopes of affection, it rarely halts on the way down.
A letter is a soul, so faithful an echo of the speaking voice that to the sensitive it is among the richest treasures of love.
We flew back home like swallows. 'Is it happiness that makes us so light?' Agathe asked.
It was nice, though, to have the long term benefit to be able to pare away those things and eventually make the character my own and put my own unique stamp.
The artist, like the God of creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails
Twas Thomas Edison did declare that waste is worse than loss yet never thought it fit to pare his first name to Tomás
Twas Thomas Edison did declare That waste is worse than loss Yet never once saw fit to pare His first name to Tomás
Garcés: [surrounded by men, Mercedes holds the paring knife against her throat... ] If anyone is going to kill you, I'd rather it be me.
The sharp light of the stars and moon sliced away her misconceptions and pared down their layers until the feelings that had always existed between them lay bare.
Perhaps it is only human nature to inflict suffering on anything that will endure suffering, whether by reason of its genuine humility, or indifference, or sheer helplessness.
The duchess turned on Eugène with one of those insolent stares that envelop a man from head to foot, flatten him out, and leave him at zero.
Though the human heart may have to pause for rest when climbing the heights of affection it rarely stops on the slippery slope of hatred.
Of necessity she went further in aversion than she had gone in love, for her hatred was not in proportion to her love but to her disappointed hopes.
The human heart may find here and there a resting-place short of the highest height of affection, but we seldom stop in the steep, downward slope of hatred.
Is there any instinct more deeply implanted in the heart of man than the pride of protection, a protection which is constantly exerted for a fragile and defenceless creature?
Rewriting is a large part of the whole job. And get rid of stuff that's not working. Just pare it down until it's a beautiful thing you can hand in, probably late, to your editor.
I don't pare down much. I write the beginning of a story in a notebook and it comes out very close to what it will be in the end. There is not much deliberateness about it.