Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers.

My hand tells me what I’m thinking.

I do not know what I think until I write it.

I don't know what I think until I write it down.

The truth is that I can’t put down my pen: I think I’m going to have the Nausea and I feel as though I’m delaying it while writing. So I write whatever comes into my mind.

Writing is thinking on paper

I know from experience that to one who thinks much and feels deeply, it often seems that he has only to put down his thoughts and feelings in order to produce something altogether out of the common; yet as soon as he sets to work he falls into a certain mannerism of style and common phraseology; his thoughts do not come spontaneously, and one might almost say that it is not the mind that directs the pen, but the pen leads the mind into common, empty artificiality.

The pen is the tongue of the mind.

I'm one of those people who doesn't really know what he thinks until he writes it down.

The mind writes with a pen, the heart, with a pencil.

I could not think without writing.

People mistakenly assume that their thinking is done by their head; it is actually done by the heart which first dictates the conclusion, then commands the head to provide the reasoning that will defend it.

My problem is I say what I'm thinking before I think what I'm saying.

Writing is thinking. To write well is to think clearly. That's why it's so hard.