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"All art is exploitation."
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"Not everyone who loves music can play the tune."
"The proper stuff of fiction does not exist everything is the proper stuff of fiction every feeling every thought every quality of brain and spirit is drawn upon no perception comes amiss. And if we can imagine the art of fiction come alive and standing in our midst she would undoubtedly bid us break her and bully her as well as honour and love her for so her youth is renewed and her sovereignty assured."
"Be an artist in everything you do."
"The writing of somemenis like a vast bridgethat carries youoverthe many thingsthat claw and tear.The Wine of Forever."
"In my view, the novelist has no right to express his opinions on the things of this world. In creating, he must imitate God: do his job and then shut up."
"Photograph: a picture painted by the sun without instruction in art."
Explore more quotes by Sherman Alexie
"You're always making up stuff from the past, she said. "And the stuff you imagine is always better than the stuff that actually happened."
"I got in a fight with my girlfriend," I said. "I was just driving around, blowing off steam, you know?"Well, you should be more careful where you drive," the officer said. "You're making people nervous. You don't fit the profile of the neighborhood."I wanted to tell him that I didn't fit the profile of the country but I knew it would just get me into trouble."
"But, in the Trump aftermath, I've measured the costsAnd benefits of loving those who don't loveStrangers. After all, I'm often the odd one-The strangest stranger-in any field or room."He was weird" will be carved into my tomb."
"I would close my eyes and dream of something strong, dream of horses exploding, rising into the air, their hearts beating survive, survive, survive."
"And then I realized that my sister was trying to LIVE a romance novel. Man, that takes courage and imagination. Well, it also took some degree of mental illness, too, but I was suddenly happy for her. And a little scared. Well, a lot scared."
"Sure, we thought the acresThat we tilled were sacred,But how could we have knownThat wheat can haunt like ghosts."
"All of these white kids and teachers, who were so suspicious of me when I first arrived, had learned to care about me. Maybe some of them even loved me. And I'd been so suspicious of them. And now I care about a lot of them. And loved a few of them."
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