Best 4069 quotes in «fiction quotes» category

Asking “what if” and answering that question is the bedrock of what the novel can achieve. The story becomes something more than one person's perspective—it reaches as far as the novelist can imagine.

A small white rabbit with floppy ears and a twitching pink nose bounded out from the thick forest brush. Fingers twitching at his side, James stepped toward the small animal, a nervous giddiness creeping up inside of him.

As one of the little streams starts snaking my way, inching closer to the toe of my shoe, I hop over the spreading puddle and out of its reach. I don’t look back to see if it’s going to follow me. I’m already three blocks away and still gaining speed

As sneakily addictive as a game of Pong (which was named, we're told, after the narrator's dad), this zany zip-line of a novel takes the piss out of the Asian-American 'good immigrant' story. Full of charming antiheroes making comically bad choices, the story dazzles us with its absurdity, which makes its eventual wisdom--about lineage, ethnicity, and the meaning of family--all the more wonderfully surprising.

As regards plots I find real life no help at all. Real life seems to have no plots. And as I think a plot desirable and almost necessary, I have this extra grudge against real life. But I think there are signs that strange things happen, though they do not emerge

A steel door clapped open as a guard stepped from the bulletproof viewing station across the hall. "Adams!" "That you?" "I told you, I don't know-" The cop pointed straight at him. "Jeffrey Adams! Front and center!" The black man helped him rise to his feet. "Ain't everybody gets called back from the pit, man. Question is, what are you gonna do when you find out who you are?

A steampunk nation Baby pollution rises up then the loving comes arraigning 'cause Our art's official and only partially artificial And our heart's in the middle of sharp hardened shards of metal but There's not where it settles Because it's beating to the steaming of God's hottest pot or kettle And now we face it, this creation we made to To save our craving for a synthetic rebelnation it's Our safeway they make into a pathetic revelation In our steampunk nation Our steampunk nation

As the eclipse progresses, a confusion of chattering birds sweeps low in search of dusk and their shadows skip over the water’s surface and it makes perfect sense that these small creatures should be so moved by events beyond their reckoning.

As they walked down the stairs to the wide sidewalk, Quincy said, “I never thought you for a churchgoer, Arch.” “You forced me to it, St. Claire. Some demons drive a man to the bottle, some demons drive a man to the church.

As the sun went down outside, the television screen started completely lighting up the room in obnoxiously bright colors at hyperactive speeds. The conversation had been slowly rising in volume and frequency, as everyone started becoming more delinquent and the social boundaries slowly wore away. I don't remember what any of them said because I wasn't honestly paying any attention. I was focusing on my own misery and trying to numb the inner demons, the ugly things Thomas claimed came from the Outside World. Yet, to me, it wasn't outside, but rather INSIDE, as in my own head. I kept hearing Charley's voice from bits and pieces of conversations we had, laughter that I'll never hear ever again.

As the wind continued to howl and groan through her decaying body, she began to sing her story.

A story has to break your heart or it's not worth telling.

A story is a wedding in which we listeners are the groom watching the bride coming up the aisle. It is together, in an act of imaginary consummation, that the story is born. This act wholly involves us, as any marriage would, and just as no marriage is exactly the same as another, so each of us interprets a story differently, feels for it differently. A story calls upon us...as individuals-and we like that. Stories benefit the human mind.

A STORY NEVER TOLD BEFORE

A storm can be a cozy thing when one isn't in it.

As we drifted away from the Tower Bridge, I saw a single silhouette standing against the bright lamplight. Even now when I was nearly asleep, I could recognise her. Her shoulders were hunched up as if she was upset. Whether she was upset that she had nearly killed me or that she had let me get away, I was unsure. Then she turned around and walked to join the other silhouettes standing in a group farther back. Now I could not see which one was Rose – they were all joint together to make one.

As you become a better writer, the writing becomes more difficult. You toil harder to tell a story in a smaller number of words.

As Zhao ducked, he sneaked a blow aimed at Homwe’s stomach. Homwe groaned in surprise and confusion – shocked at his opponent’s speed and strength. He quickly drew a handgun from under his jacket and hit Xi Zhao on the head, drawing blood from his skull.

At a certain age almost all questions a person asks himself are about one thing: how should you live your life?

At home you could depend on your parents, but in America you are on your own and should make as many friends as you can . . . You don't know who may hold out a helpful hand in your hour of need.

A time will come in your life, William, where your faith will be tested... and you must stay faithful to the word and vision that the All-Father has given to you.

At least the presence of Harry, her tabby cat, purring softly and weaving in and out of her legs was better than no company at all.

A tightrope walker uncertain if he could make it to the other side probably would not. A race car driver wondering if he was taking a turn too fast was likely to lose control. If a man feared death, whether his own or the taking of another's, death would surely come calling.

At one point in time, I had thought that my writing was a product of my circumstances.

At my age, every day that I overcome simple inertia is a victory.

A true leader is not meant to be greeted with unanimous praise by his people. A leader is meant to be questioned, to be suspect, to be hated. If he is not, then one can easily assume that either he has not challenged his abilities as a leader by making a decision that creates a split between the people, or he is forcing his subjects to bow before him.

a true leader must be able to command with an iron fist, not just a humble heart.

At seventy-one you can't expect to hear a story, any story, and take it as it is. At my age a story stirs up a vortex that sucks into its eye more stories, and spits out still more. I must remember what I must.

At the end of the world, music always played on like a bad movie.

At the sound of her name, Lucia’s blue eyes honed in on me. She cocked her head to the side as if puzzled. “Why me?” she wondered. “Lucia, you exploded with power after Ehno was killed.” I shot Ehno an apologetic look. “I felt your sorrow before I even knew something was wrong. It hit me like a freight train of boulders. You made the sky rain fireballs with red lightning. Need I say more?

Aunt Rosa, a fussy, angular, wild-eyed old lady, who had lived in a tremulous world of bad news, bankruptcies, train accidents, cancerous growths—until the Germans put her to death, together with all the people she had worried about.

Authors are supernatural beings. They exist in the world, also in worlds they create, and in the worlds of other authors they read.

A very important function of intelligence is the ability to premeditate. ~ Aarush Kashyap

Aut viam inveniam aut faciam It means, in essence, "I'll find a way or I'll make one." It's how I live my life. Another definition is basically "Never give up," which is the path I've taken when it comes to writing books. I've been writing for almost 30 years and just had my first book, THE LOSSES, come out by a small press. And I'm psyched. Just keep on trucking.

A well-thought-out story doesn’t need to resemble real life. Life itself tries with all its might to resemble a well-crafted story.

A vida real não nos concede muitas possibilidades mais do que úteis que as pessoas podem ter na ficção.

A woman's got one life: She's got to reach out and grab it with both hands, or it'll pass her by and leave nothing but a smelly old fart in her face.

A wise man does not step betwixt the beast and his meat

A writer can do without food for a few hours but not without the sight of books.

A writer gets to live yet another life every time he or she creates a new story.

A writer looks at an issue and asks, 'What if this were to occur? Or what if that was thrown into the mix? What would that look like?

Backstory is like a flavour you can’t quite pick, lurking in the layers of a curry. You know it’s there and it enhances the flavour, but it’s intangible and fleeting. Use it sparingly!

Awe! Leaving so soon?” Gabby said sweetly, holding the door open. “I was just about to pull out the gun for you to play single-player Russian Roulette.

A wounded animal yet bears teeth

Bad writing is more than a matter of shit syntax and faulty observation; bad writing usually arises from a stubborn refusal to tell stories about what people actually do― to face the fact, let us say, that murderers sometimes help old ladies cross the street.

Babasız büyürsen âlemin bir merkezi ve sınırı olduğunu anlamaz, her şeyi yapabileceğini sanırsın...ama bir süre sonra ne yapacağını bilmez, dünyada bir mana, bir merkez bulmaya çalışır, sana hayır diyecek birini aramaya başlarsın.

Be a good reader first if you wish to become a good writer.

Bearing witness from the sides of the room, ten or more lepers shouted at the bizarre scene, “Diable! Diable!” And then chants of some sort, or prayers, followed by more shouts of “Diable!” They were hurling these words at Moreau like stones.

Beauty and perfection do not guarantee grace and fulfillment and are always sacrificed. Life itself seems a ritual of sacrifice, and the world the alter on which plants and animals lay down their own lives for the sustenance of others, and on which we lay our youth, our well-being, our loved ones, and finally our lives. I am an ignorant woman who has sacrificed all of these things but the last, and cannot say for whom or what I perform this unrelenting ritual.

Bear with me G-Harrison because this is going to be a long speech. I’ve always had this feeling that the world is not enough and I won’t be happy in life unless I hold hands with a girl who has a golden eye and a gold finger; I beat the living daylights out a guy called Dr No; I get a postcard from my friend who lives in Russia which reads ‘From Russia with love’; I spend some time working for her majesty’s secret service; I play the Thunderball Super Spud lottery; I meet a guy called Moonraker; I finally get a licence to kill, which I applied for months ago; I buy a house with a view to kill for and I get a pet octopus called Octopussy. If only I lived twice and tomorrow never died, maybe then I would get a chance to fulfil my dreams.