Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates

Nothing is original. Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic. Authenticity is invaluable; originality is non-existent. And don?t bother concealing your thievery – celebrate it if you feel like it. In any case, always remember what Jean-Luc Godard said: It?s not where you take things from – it?s where you take them to.”

[MovieMaker Magazine #53 – Winter, January 22, 2004 ]
— Jim Jarmusch

Please don’t entertain for a moment the utterly

Please don’t entertain for a moment the utterly mistaken idea that there is no drudgery in writing. There is a great deal of drudgery in even the most inspired, the most noble, the most distinguished writing. Read what the great ones have said about their jobs; how they never sit down to their work without a sigh of distress and never get up from it witout a sigh of relief. Do you imagine that your Muse is forever flamelike — breathing the inspired word, the wonderful situation, the superb solution into your attentive ear? … Believe me, my poor boy, if you wait for inspiration in our set-up, you’ll wait for ever.
— Ngaio Marsh, Death on the Air and Other Stories

She preferred the quiet solitary atmosphere, to create

She preferred the quiet solitary atmosphere, to create in her own world of paint and colour, the thrill of anticipating how her works would turn out as she eyed the blank sheets of paper or canvas before starting her next masterpiece. How satisfying it was to mess around in paint gear, without having to worry about spills, starch or frills, that was the life!
— E.A. Bucchianeri, Brushstrokes of a Gadfly,

Actually, writers have no business writing about their

Actually, writers have no business writing about their own works. They either wax conceited, saying things like: ‘My brilliance is possibly most apparent in my dazzling short story, “The Cookiepants Hypotenuse.”‘ Or else they get unbearably cutesy: ‘My cat Ootsywootums has given me all my best ideas, hasn’t oo, squeezums?
— Connie Willis, The Winds of Marble Arch and Other Stories