Writers have to get used to launching something beautiful and watching it crash and burn. They also have to learn when to let go control, when the work takes off on its own and flies, farther than they ever planned or imagined, to places they didn't know they knew.
Flight is lawful, when one flies from tyrants.
When on a summer's morn I wake, And open my two eyes, Out to the clear, born-singing rills My bird-like spirit flies. To hear the Blackbird, Cuckoo, Thrush, Or any bird in song; And common leaves that hum all day Without a throat or tongue. And when Time strikes the hour for sleep, Back in my room alone, My heart has many a sweet bird's song - And one that's all my own.
It's funny, don't you think, how time seems to do a lot of things? It flies, it tells, and worst of all, it runs out.
I remember realizing, when I did Little Women [1994], that that was the only time girls that age were being written about. It was always boys - from David Copperfield to Lord of the Flies to Holden Caulfield. There were never young women going through adolescence or teen years; there were only little girls.
Time flies like an arrow; fruit flies like a banana
When the star dies, Its eye closes; tired of watching, It flies back to its first bright dream.
MAKE ME AN ANGEL THAT FLIES FROM MONTGOMERY, MAKE ME A POSTER OF AN OLD RODEO JUST GIVE ME ONE THING THAT I CAN HOLD ON TO TO BELIEVE IN THIS LIVIN' IS JUST A HARD WAY TO GO.
One meal a day is enough for a lion and would be for all of us if all we did all day was swat flies.
In the West the past is like a dead animal. It is a carcass picked at by the flies that call themselves historians and biographers. But in my culture the past lives. My people feel this way in part because death does not separate us from our ancestors.
It's because when we sneeze, our soul flies out our nose and if no one says 'bless you,' the devil can snatch it.
Flies? Flies? Poor puny things. Who wants to eat flies?
'Tis said of love that it sometimes goes, sometimes flies; runs with one, walks gravely with another; turns a third into ice, and sets a fourth in a flame: it wounds one, another it kills: like lightning it begins and ends in the same moment: it makes that fort yield at night which it besieged but in the morning; for there is no force able to resist it.
Which arrow flies for ever? The arrow that has hit its mark.
Time flies, dreams die, people lose faith, Tryna hide behind a lie with a straight face.
It's a wonderful thing to be able to create your own world whenever you want to. Writing is very pleasurable, very seductive, and very therapeutic. Time passes very fast when I'm writing-really fast. I'm puzzling over something, and time just flies by. It's an exhilarating feeling. How bad can it be? It's sitting alone with fictional characters. You're escaping from the world in your own way and that's fine. Why not?
Catching flies is better training than hitting the speed bag
Why, lies are like a sticky juice overspreading the world, a living, growing flypaper to catch and gum the wings of every human soul. . . And the little helpless buzzings of honest, liberal, kindly people, aren't they like the thin little noise flies make when they're caught?
When you get a groove going, time flies.
Can imagination act Perpendicular to fact? Can it be a kite that flies Till the Earth , umbrella-wise, Folds and drops away from sight?