Best 163 of Literary quotes - MyQuotes

By Anonym 15 Sep

Nithin Purple

Ah thrills of my soul is not yet perished,for a flame aglow its spirit of thoughts,and my words will garland the most admired beauty of both seen and the unseen hearts.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Michael Flynn

One recalls the literary writer who, after grasping a story of a Mars voyage as a metaphor for isolation and the precariousness of relationships, realized that at a deeper, more subtle level it might even be a story about an actual trip to Mars!

By Anonym 19 Sep

Nithin Purple

The splendid beauty of this living world,and its subtle moonlight glint wakes a mild youth’s mind,whose colors are of pensive green,and tranquil white to ink his visions keen.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Hollace M. Metzger

I know I will always be attracted to the unknown as it does often verify what I am or what else I could be.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Sara Sheridan

I've always felt that good writing does not have to be literary.

By Anonym 16 Sep

E L Parfitt

It was late when father and the Duke tracked me down feigning surprise that I was in the usual place every time as if it was a game they played, “Where’s Rose? Why, growing in her usual spot!

By Anonym 15 Sep

Noviolet Bulawayo

Because we were not in our country, we could not use our own languages, and so when we spoke our voices came out bruised. When we talked, our tongues thrashed madly in our mouths, staggered like drunken men. Because we were not using our languages we said things we did not mean; what we really wanted to say remained folded inside. trapped. In America we did not always have the words. It was only when were were by ourselves that we spoke in our real voices. When we were alone we summoned the horses of our languages and mounted their backs and galloped past skyscrapers. Always, we were reluctant to come back.

By Anonym 16 Sep

James Baldwin

I don’t know any writers who don’t drink.

By Anonym 20 Sep

Roman Payne

When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.

By Anonym 18 Sep

David Demchuk

Some stories need to be told time and again. Every generation forgets. Every child learns anew.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Nithin Purple

Clear the blue skies aery dome,rosy the sun’s cheek,he clouds unfastened sway,the smiling gush of creek,the tiny fishes awake from sleep, the unseen moves of the dryad,ha spirit in me driven!

By Anonym 15 Sep

Lailah Gifty Akita

All experiences are stories to be told and must be written.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Joseph Ferguson

I believe in moderation. But I wouldn't overdo it.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Roy L. Pickering Jr.

Once you break someone’s heart, you are forever its master.

By Anonym 18 Sep

Bibiana Krall

Perhaps that cruel girl was right? I should be a good girl, and my friend will be fine. I am too dramatic, always seeing the end in a flower blossom, the destruction in a raindrop. I must accept the things I cannot change.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Christina Engela

One bright sunny day at a successful Literary Agency… Literary Agent: “So, Tina – we asked you to try and write a children’s story…” Tina: “Uh-huh.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Ernst Jentsch

In telling a story one of the most successful devices for easily creating uncanny effects is to leave the reader in uncertainty whether a particular figure in the story is a human being or an automaton and to do it in such a way that his attention is not focused directly upon his uncertainty, so that he may not be led to go into the matter and clear it up immediately.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Sara Sheridan

I can't bear literary snobbery.

By Anonym 18 Sep

Vladimir Nabokov

The decrees of society are temporary ones; what Tolstoy is interested in are the eternal demands of morality.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Anita Nair

Could a literary life be referred to with the iambic pentameter of, say, harnessing wind power, transplanting hearts or saving the whales. Or did it necessitate the sombre and monotonous dirge of software, priority banking or turbine building.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Nithin Purple

True love lasts like aging rocks on sea shores, scarce its mighty fierce waves can touch its core to separate,since lightning bolts of thunder comes its way and remembers,those loved are.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Tommy Orange

We made powwows because we needed a place to be together. Something intertribal, something old, something to make us money, something we could work toward, for our jewelry, our songs, our dances, our drum.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Bebe Moore Campbell

His eyesight wasn’t as keen as it had been, but he knew a changing mind when he saw it.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Cole Alpaugh

And in a land accustomed to so much anguish, Chase tried to be careful with words. His soccer moms began assigning nicknames during the first day of official practice: Difom, Kakas, Kochma, and Maldyok, which roughly translated to Deformed, Carcass, Nightmare, and Bad Eye. He made a new rule regarding nicknames.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Mariana Violante

Era crédula, aunque lo negara, seguía creyendo en cuentos de hadas, por más que la vida trataba de decirme a gritos que las cosas no funcionaban de esa manera.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Vanda

I hardly know her but whenever I see her I lose my mind. I know I should run away, but I can’t. “That’s called sexual attraction, honey,” Max said. “It’s very nice. But be careful. It can burn you bad. Believe me I know.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Robert Dunbar

Especially on rainy nights like this, they would congregate under the bridge, all the boys from nowhere, the boys who lived nowhere, who had nowhere else to go.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Avijeet Das

We are a team A beautiful dream Like stones in a stream A literary realm Inspiring everybody to dream!

By Anonym 16 Sep

Noviolet Bulawayo

In America we saw more food than we had seen in all our lives and we were so happy we rummaged through the dustbins of our souls to retrieve the stained, broken pieces of God.

By Anonym 18 Sep

Abigail Tarttelin

Sometimes I still feel that there are two of me: one clean, flawless picture, the other imperfect and cracked; one boy, one girl; one voice that speaks aloud and one that whispers in my ear; one publicly known to have been troubled but be on the mend, the other who has privately lost something to do with innocence and gained something to do with knowledge and adulthood that can never be undone. I feel sometimes there are things that tear me in two directions, that there are two sets of thoughts that grow side by side. But then I realize that I am whole, whatever that means and does not mean; I am complete without the need for additions or alteration.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Matthew Selwyn

Walking into a bookshop is a depressing thing. It’s not the pretentious twats, browsing books as part of their desirable lifestyle. It’s not the scrubby members of staff serving at the counter: the pseudo-hippies and fucking misfits. It’s not the stink of coffee wafting out from somewhere in the building, a concession to the cult of the coffee bean. No, it’s the books. I could ignore the other shit, decide that maybe it didn’t matter too much, that when consumerism meets culture, the result is always going to attract wankers and everything that goes with them. But the books, no, they’re what make your stomach sink and that feeling of dark syrup on the brain descend. Look around you, look at the shelves upon shelves of books – for years, the vessels of all knowledge. We’re part of the new world now, but books persist. Cheap biographies, pulp fiction; glossy covers hiding inadequate sentiments. Walk in and you’re surrounded by this shit – to every side a reminder that we don’t want stimulation anymore, we want sedation. Fight your way through the celebrity memoirs, pornographic cook books, and cheap thrills that satisfy most and you get to the second wave of vomit-inducing product: offerings for the inspired and arty. Matte poetry books, classics, the finest culture can provide packaged and wedged into trendy coverings, kidding you that you’re buying a fashion accessory, not a book. But hey, if you can stomach a trip further into the shop, you hit on the meatier stuff – history, science, economics – provided they can stick ‘pop.’ in front of it, they’ll stock it. Pop. psychology, pop. art, pop. life. It’s the new world – we don’t want serious anymore, we want nuggets of almost-useful information. Books are the past, they’re on the out. Information is digital now; bookshops, they’re somewhere between gallery and museum.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Lailah Gifty Akita

The story we write today will support the next generation.

By Anonym 18 Sep

J. P. Bloch

The biggest mistake you can make is thinking you know who you are.

By Anonym 19 Sep

G. F. Smith

What is more precious: a thousand answers derived from one question? Or, one answer…from a thousand questions?

By Anonym 15 Sep

Sara Sheridan

As it stands there is a very strong argument that as the book trade becomes increasingly corporate it's our literary heritage that is at risk - a vital part of our culture.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Kamand Kojouri

We are all born as storytellers. Our inner voice tells the first story we ever hear.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Brenda Sutton Rose

He takes a draw on a cigarette, blows out a smoky ghost. I reach to catch the phantom in my hands, but it eludes me. I've been trying to catch a ghost for as long as I can remember.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Jeanelle Cooley

CONGRATULATIONS DL Havlin! Your entry, "There are No Lights in Naples", an unpublished short fiction - flash fiction genre category, is a finalist for the 2016 Royal Palm Literary Awards competition!

By Anonym 17 Sep

Helen Oyeyemi

Miss Foxe's other passion was fairy tales. She loved the transformations in them. Everybody was in disguise, or on their way to becoming something else. And all was overcome by order in the end. Love could not prevail if the order of the tale didn't wish it, and neither could hatred, nor grief, nor cunning. If you were the first of three siblings, then you were going to make a big mistake, and that was that. If you were the third sibling, you couldn't fail.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Roy L. Pickering Jr.

...forever meant different things to people at different times. They could imagine what infinity looked and felt like as much as they wanted, but could never truly grasp its meaning nor bear its full weight.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Roman Payne

A girl without braids is like a city without bridges.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Edgar Fawcett

{Letter from Fawcett to the great Robert Ingersoll, 1894} I do so wish, that, in all these big questions, literary men would take you more for a guide than they do, or seem to do. You have, of course, an immense constituency; but your love of letters and your deeply poetic spirit render you worthy of a far greater reverence and respect from writers than it seems to me that you receive. I want the brilliancy of your thought to penetrate our literature profoundly and permanently. But of course that will come. The younger generation of writers cannot escape you any more than the air they breath. You will, indeed, be the air they breath, -- and hence, in many cases, if not all, their inspiration. Especially should the poets love you and sit at your feet. If you die before you see the change, I believe that those who now love you and survive you will see how much of the mere pietistic rubbish in modern poetry has been gradually yet surely swept away by the mighty besom of your fearless and noble intellect.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Richard Ford

It's odd to imagine, of course: you pass a car on a lonely rural highway; you sit beside a man in a diner and share views with him; you wait behind a customer checking into a motel, a friendly man with a winning smile and twinkling hazel eyes, who's happy to fill you in on his life's story and wants you to like him - odd to think this man is cruising around with a loaded pistol, making up his mind about which bank he'll soon rob.' - Richard Ford, Canada

By Anonym 18 Sep

Roman Payne

Ô, wine!, the truth-serum so potent that all those who wish to live happy lives should abstain from drinking it entirely!... except of course when they are alone.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Lailah Gifty Akita

I live within the world of books.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Kanza Javed

One realizes the immortality of true love only after the lover dies

By Anonym 16 Sep

Mark Samuels

I had long ago determined that I would devote my life to literary scholarship. Not, let me emphasise, the dry-as-dust scholarship of academe, the crushing orthodoxy to be found in universities, but rather the recondite scholarship that is a journey into the unknown. I refer, chiefly, to those dead authors whose works savour of the uncanny and the marvellous, authors whose unique perspectives are beyond the self-stultifying purview of the modern critical mania for so-called realism. For my part I chose the mysteries, and the hierophant of mystery was an obscure author called Arthur Machen.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Steven T. Bramble

Now he began to intuitively sense a world organized according to lawfully segregated zones of those allowed to exist fully and those corralled into a state of half-being, tamped beneath normal levels of cognition into a grim unceasing purgatory. Personhood and Objecthood entwined, and distinguishing the difference turned into an exercise of pure ambivalence.

By Anonym 18 Sep

Roy L. Pickering Jr.

On occasion he would think back to the fiercest passion it had been his pleasure to experience and reflect on what might have been. He would look upon the woman who occupied the opposite half of his bed and feel his life had not quite lived up to the promise of another day. These moments would be mercifully brief, or so he hoped.

By Anonym 20 Sep

Jenifer Mohammed

Whether we are men dreaming we are butterflies or butterflies dreaming we are men, the one truth is that all life is an illusion. We are all wandering shades.