Best 4069 quotes in «fiction quotes» category

Was she happy? She thought – yes, reasonably so. Then again, what was happiness but the vast terrain between ecstasy and agony? Was this too small an ambition?

Was it possible to be homesick for a soul?

Was love ever easy for anyone? If less complicated, would this make it less appreciated? Perhaps love was difficult for good reason. Perhaps everything on God’s green earth was the result of a flawless plan, even that which seemed most muddled.

Waves gently caress the sand as they glide along the shore. Sunlight fills the sky; rocks float along the water and make waves that glisten as they ripple. I’m supposed to be happy but I’m not, it’s raining, and only I can see it.... It’s raining, and only I can see it” Excerpt From: Daniel Sean Campbell. “Josh Harper and The Enemy of Destiny.

Wawashkesh these apples are for you, red on the white snow, their cider tang will find you in the gray woods. There is a story how a snake offered an apple, so sweet, so cold, those bite was sorrow. --excerpt from Eric Gadzinski's poem "Wawashkeshgiwis" from The Way North

We all fight for money, some for power, but most of all for love. But me, I fight to become a champion.

We all have a book in us. The first step is recognising this. Writing it is a whole new journey.

We all have scars. Just because mine are hidden doesn’t make them any less painful.

We all have the best laid plans for our children, and they go and ruin it all by growing up any way they want to. What the hell was it all for, then? (Real Life and Liars)

We all love after-the-bomb stories. If we didn't, why would there be so many of them? There's something attractive about all those people being gone, about wandering in a depopulated world, scrounging cans of Campbell's pork and beans, defending one's family from marauders. But some secret part of us thinks it would be good to survive. All those other folks will die. That's what after-the-bomb stories are all about.

We all move on from history to chance, sorrow to sorrow, hope to hope, joy to joy. Read the book of fiction on the theme. its title is FROM HISTORY TO CHANCE

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

We are all of the same substance, the same life. Though there are many differences between us, those are merely the shadows that delineate our boundaries. Our light is the same.

We are born to love as we are born to die, and between the heartbeats of those two great mysteries lies all the tangled undergrowth of our tiny lives. There is nowhere to go but through. And so we walk on, lost, and lost again, in the mapless wilderness of love.

We are at war. There will be scars. – Uttara Vairati

We are monsters with good intentions, our instincts drive us but our passions devour us

We are not our possessions, but we are the accumulation of everything we’ve seen, the things we’ve done, and the places we’ve been." - Dr. Thomas Gilovich, Professor of Psychology, Cornell University

We awoke to a fabulation of ice, the sun shining like a weapon, light rocketing off every surface except the surfaces of the Army's clean streets and walks.

We blended and look to what it has brought us. I planted lilies on your grave. The rain is already splattering them with dripping dew. May they last another hundred years, Gerard. A hundred years of lilies.

We both must burn this midnight oil together. You’re just as new to me as I am you.” --Andrew

We built that Wendy House our own selves, for Wendy! And you can't keep a Wendy out of her own Wendy House!

We breathe too fast to be able to grasp things in themselves or to expose their fragility. Our panting postulates and distorts them, creates and disfigures them, and binds us to them. I bestir myself, therefore I emit a world as suspect as my speculation which justifies it; I espouse movement, which changes me into a generator of being, into an artisan of fictions, while my cosmogonic verve makes me forget that, led on by the whirlwind of acts, I am nothing but an acolyte of time, an agent of decrepit universes. (...) If we would regain our freedom, we must shake off the burden of sensation, no longer react to the world by our senses, break our bonds. For all sensation is a bond, pleasure as much as pain, joy as much as misery. The only free mind is the one that, pure of all intimacy with beings or objects, plies its own vacuity.

We can't change the world by shouting, but our words can have meaning if we give them enough respect.

We'd become Japs, Jews, Niggers. We weren't before.

We desire to keep the dying and the newly dead close before our eyes so as to give them full need of pity. Our Lord was brought down to be pitied, on the Cross He was too far away.

We couldn’t believe our luck, and for a little while it felt like we were on some big train rolling down a hill, and all we cared about was how great it felt to be going fast.

We do not claim that the portrait we are making is the whole truth, only that it is a resemblance.

We don’t know if the mythologies are fact or fiction or mix of the two. But as far as people have faith in them, they shape their values. When people lose faith in scriptures and mythologies, they easily fall prey to the fictions of the modern times, which propagate infidelity, pleasure seeking and materialism.

We don't suffer from a shortage of metaphors, is what I mean. But you have to be careful which metaphor you choose, because it matters." -Paper Towns

We don't suffer from a shortage of metaphors, is what I mean. But you have to be careful which metaphor you choose, because it matters.

We had been with the men, we had let them do what they wanted. But they would never know the parts of ourselves that we hid from them - they would never sense the lack or even know there was something more they should be looking for.

We go straight". I say again. "If we start making turns, we might not know what direction is what. If we keep going straight, at least we know how to get back to where we came from if we get into trouble. I know it's tiring, but walking uphill is a good thing-every step we take is a step closer to getting out." "I see shoulders droop, I hear heavy sighs. They don't want to agree with me; they want to go the easier way".

We go to the schools and they leach the dreams from where our ancestors hid them, in the honeycombs of slushy marrow buried in our bones. And us? Well, we join our ancestors, hoping we left enough dreams behind for the next generation to stumble across.

We have all been fooled into believing in people who are entirely imaginary--made-up prisoners in a hypothetical panopticon. But the point isn't whether or not you believe in imaginary people; it's whether or not you want to. "I think I'll stick with reality," I said, handing Cassidy back her phone. She stared at it, and then me, disappointed. "I'd think you of all people would want to escape." "Imaginary prisoners are still prisoners.

We have no idea what people are dealing with or the hurts and wounds that have been inflicted upon them. Personally, after reading this, I have been challenged to not be so complacent in my prayer life, and to be more intentional about doing battle for the lost and hurting who need me. " - Christian Missionary Laurie Lester

We have our stories, and we speak of them, and weave them into other people's stories - that's how it goes, does it not?

Welcome to the real world, Mother Robot, a beautiful and dangerous place. Now you can truly begin to live.

Welcome, old aspirations, glittering creatures of an ardent underneath the holly! We know you, and have not outlived you yet. Welcome, old projects, and old loves, however fleeting, to your nooks among the steadier lights that burn around us

We laughed as we ducked behind a pile of snow. Then our brothers came charging through the barrier, sending the four of us sliding down a white slope full of cherished memories.

We insist that this stuff we call science fiction is not SCI-FI. For some in the ghetto of Genre this is axiomatic, a secret truth known only to the genre kids, that there is proper science fiction and then there’s that SCI-FI shit.

We invent fictions in order to live somehow the many lives we would like to lead when we barely have one at our disposal.

Well, here we are." Sometimes a statement of the bloody obvious was the only appropriate way forward. As if to give life ceremonious permission to proceed.

We live in a world where there is such a clear definition of what a girl should be that it takes almost no effort at all to completely hate ourselves.

Well, come back and have tea with us," saidMoon-Face. "Silky's got some Pop Biscuits -andI've made some Google Buns. I don't often makethem-and I tell you they're a treat!

Well, I didn't really know what to say. So maybe I should say that I have thought about you and I like you, I like seeing you, I care for you and maybe I love you too. And the next time if you tell me you love me, I'll--" She stopped. "You'll what?" "I'll say I love you too.

Well, they've come a long way. To think that he now could access a secret document held in the Vatican archives, via electronic technology.

Well, I would tell Danny. I'd probably edit for Josh. That is if there was anything worth editing. “Joshua Roberts, you had better get your butt on the move!” Danny hollered as he walked down the stairs. I was nervously waiting for them to leave as I pretended to watch TV in the front room. “We're going to be late.” “So the hair crisis is under control I see.” “A stray hair will never win between a bottle of gel and a gay man,” he declared with a smile. “Joshua!” “I'm coming. I'm coming.” I heard his sandals click on the stairs and I waited to see if the mental image matched the real one. To my non surprise it did.

We made the choice, right there in our local coffee shop, that we were going to do things differently. We were going to put the story first, no matter where that led us. We’d open ourselves up to all genres, all forms. We’d publish works that stayed with us in an intangible way, long after that last page is turned.

We make fiction because we are fiction ... It lived us into being and it lives us still.

We must know that we may know.