Fingers Quote by Melissa Marr Download Open image “Writing is not just the technical act of your fingers on the keyboard. Writing is living.” — Melissa Marr ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 4.0 out of 5 (5 ratings) Copy quoteShare Fingers Keyboards Writing
Writing can be a very isolating profession. By its very nature, you spend a lot of your time barricaded in your house or office,… — D. B. Weiss Copy Share Image
Writing is like playing golf - you have to keep working at your swing. — Bill Simmons Copy Share Image
The thing for someone just starting off [in writing] is to write. You need to have limber fingers, whether you write with your fingers… — Augusten Burroughs Copy Share Image
Writing is a combination of being alert to your outer surroundings and alive to your inner reality. — Julia Cameron Copy Share Image
Writing never came naturally and I still have to force my hand to do it. — Richard Ford Copy Share Image
Writing is not, alas, like riding a bicycle: it does not get easier with practice. — Nancy Mairs Copy Share Image
If I could write directly on a typewriter or a computer, I would do it. But keyboards have always intimidated me. I've never been… — Paul Auster Copy Share Image
I feel that the act of writing, in and of itself, is a tool towards probing that which you wouldn't without that pen in… — Paul Auster Copy Share Image
Mortals are such fragile things. Just tender feelings walking around exposed in their delicate shells...Easy to crush. — Melissa Marr Copy Share Image
How was I to know? ... You didn't say anything.""I said lots of things," he corrected gently. "You just didn't hear them. — Melissa Marr Copy Share Image
She turned so they were face-to-face and gave him back the words he'd offered her their first night together: "I survived. Isn't that what… — Melissa Marr Copy Share Image
As a lifelong romance reader, it's always satisfying to get to talk to other romance readers! — Melissa Marr Copy Share Image
“You are my king. You could command me to stop seeing her." Niall turned his gaze to Irial. "What would you do?" "Blind myself,… — Melissa Marr Copy Share Image
“It was her choice. In a world where so many choices weren't hers, it was a wonderful thing.” — Melissa Marr Copy Share Image
Seth gave her that: a private space to believe in the illusion of normalcy. — Melissa Marr Copy Share Image
“One hundred eighty days, Aislinn. Seth's been gone for one hundred eighty days, and I've watched you try to pretend it doesn't hurt for… — Melissa Marr Copy Share Image
A poet is wounded into speech, and he examines these wounds, meticulously, to discover how to heal them. The bad poet harangues at the… — Samuel R. Delany Copy Share Image
Ambition drives you on, ability certainly helps, but the fickle finger of fate and luck are great things. — Fergus Henderson Copy Share Image
The nineteenth century lynching mob cuts off ears, toes, and fingers, strips off flesh, and distributes portions of the body as souvenirs among the… — Ida B. Wells Copy Share Image
The child who ran weeping to you with a cut finger is now brought home, smiling gamely, with a broken collarbone and incredible contusions-… — Pam Brown Copy Share Image
Sam reached his hand toward mine and I automatically put my fingers in his. With a guilty little smile he pulled my hand toward… — Maggie Stiefvater Copy Share Image
I take the seashell from my jeans pocket and rub my fingers across its silken, indented surface, shallow as my own open hand. This… — Katrina Kenison Copy Share Image
The world belongs to those who think and act with it, who keep a finger on its pulse. — William Ralph Inge Copy Share Image
Shhh.” He put a finger to her lips. “Hear me out. I cannot deny that I would've liked to have made babies with you.… — Elizabeth Hoyt Copy Share Image
[Sport officials] blocked their support of us. But those individuals [ Muhammad Ali, the Jim Browns, the Bill Russells, Kareem Abdul Jabbar ] were… — John Carlos Copy Share Image
Jazz is the music of the body. The breath comes through brass. It is the body's breath, and the strings' wails and moans are… — Anais Nin Copy Share Image
I would have touched it like a child But knew my finger could but have touched Cold stone and water. I grew wild, Even… — William Butler Yeats Copy Share Image