Best 4069 quotes in «fiction quotes» category

I started to drink heavily, comfortably caught in the tentacle-like clutches of alcohol.

Is the writer cruel that makes his characters suffer only to bring them to triumph or tragedy in the end?

I steal a glance when no one is looking. Especially at his neck, when he turns to say something to my mother. That slender neck, with its air of determination, brisk and bold…

I steeled myself as best I could, and, with teeth gritted, using only one finger I typed: C U there E. I sat back, feeling a bit queasy. Illiterate communication was quicker, that was true, but not by much. I'd saved myself the trouble of typing four whole characters. Still, it was part of my new credo, trying new things. I'd tried it, and I very definitely did not like it. LOL could go and take a running jump. I wasn't made for illiteracy; it simply didn't come naturally. Although it's good to try new things and to keep an open mind, it's also extremely important to stay true to who you really are. I read that in a magazine at the hairdressers.

Is there anything more plausible than a second hand? And yet it takes only the smallest pleasure or pain to teach us time's malleability. Some emotions speed it up, others slow it down; occasionally, it seems to go missing--until the eventual point when it really does go missing, never to return.

Is this how humanity waves good-bye? Hell no.

Is this not the very thing that drives an adventurous man to navigate uncharted oceans, to traverse continents and mountains, to pilot virgin estuaries and hidden coves—this promise of inscribing a name steadfast upon what he finds? There are few parcels of earth left to be claimed; yet even as the known world shrinks, the heavens grow ever more infinite. An explorer of the skies need never leave his home or fret over the swiftness of other expeditions; he might give whatever name he chooses to any new thing that wanders into his view.

I stole you, among others, from the streets of God’s birthplace. I forced you to work as a slave. Imprisoned, mistreated and starved you and your companion. To top it off, I am in the process of selling your life to the highest bidder. Why would you trust me?

I stood at the grassy edge and tentatively dipped my toe into the water. I watched the ripple spread and break the perfect reflection before composing itself. The ripple then rushed towards a mass of rocks to one side.

I suggest you leave now, or you’ll be tied down and gagged until the end of this meeting.” “Tie us down?” “And gag you,” Joseph cheerfully reminded them.

Is your life story the truth? Yes, the chronological events are true. Is it the whole truth? No, you see and judge it through your conditioned eyes and mind - not of all involved - nor do you see the entire overview. Is it nothing but the truth? No, you select, share, delete, distort, subtract, assume and add what you want, need and choose to.

It all started when she walked into my office that night unannounced. She told me she was in trouble. So I asked what kind. She said it was of the killing kind. Wanted to know if I could be trusted. I said up to a point, depending on who got killed.

I tapped around on my new Miracle Phone—a gift from Joseph—as I listened to the discussion about our next move. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but I’d recently become addicted to this one game on my Miracle Phone. Really, I was listening. I could multitask like no other. Trust me, there’s an app for that.

It didn’t belong to anything and nothing belonged to it. It searched for eternities trying to find a host… a carrier… a harlequin or a prophet that would have brought meaning and form to its reasons, but that never happened..

It could be that this record set before you now is a fiction.

It’d been a long time since they’d been together, but as close as they were physically, they’d never been so far apart in every other way.

It didn't take me long out there, in the landscapes my father had painted, to realize that as much as I loved my country [Australia], I barely knew it. I'd spent so many years studying the art of our immigrant cultures, and barely any time at all on the one that had been here all along....So I set myself a crash course and became a pioneer in a new field: desperation conservation. My job became the documentation and preservation of ancient Aboriginal rock art, before the uranium and bauxite companies had a chance to blast it into rubble" (pp. 345-346)

It did not seem odd to Max that what he had imagined about Stumps was really true, because this was exactly how games you made up worked. Of course they were true. In your mind.

It doesn’t matter how physically fit or tough you are, if you fail to use natures computer between your ears.

It doesn't take a wizard to figure out the last thing a girl should do is go running hundreds of miles away from home to Vermont just because a man asks her to do so.

It had been approaching midnight. I'd been hanging out longer than I'd planned when a 1928 Lincoln Model L-swanky by any definition-pulled in near the club's entrance and double-parked alongside the string of other black vehicles. Two heavily garbed figures emerged, one with a cigar implanted between his teeth. Fat lips forced it to the side of his mouth. Someone came out of the club, and the three of them moved into the shadows.

It gets kind of zen after awhile, life is a journey, time is a river, the door is ajar.

It has been raining here for ten years.I keep an accurate record of time and can state this with no fear of contradiction.

It had seemed to me an elegant nightmare concoction made by adults for adults, to further the aims and fantasies of adults, and what have children to do with such things?

It has been said by many that a true love story has no happy ending simply because the truest of loves never ends. It is immortal. This is the kind of love that lives forever in your heart as a feeling you will always feel, a place you can always return to.

It has been said that narrative worlds are always little worlds, because they do not constitute a maximal and complete state of things. In this sense narrative worlds are parasitical, because, if the alternative properties are not specified, we take for granted the properties that hold good in the real world.

I think I found your vampire,” Andrew said, except this time he wasn’t so amused. However, Gabriella was, her smile huge as she laughed, the sound a trill in the densely packed cold air. “You think this is funny?” The words came out surly, but Andrew couldn’t stop his lips from twitching over her amusement. “I thought they’d be bigger,” she said, stifling another round of giggles. “Are you okay?” “Just a flesh wound.

I think in fiction he searches for the life he wishes he had.

I think it all basically breaks down to something like this: You have to look and feel great first. If you eat well, exercise and get enough sleep, you will have ample energy and the proper self-confidence to create and produce beyond your wildest dreams! Looking great and radiating positive energy, while presenting your highest quality work, is what will always make you the most valuable and only logical choice in whatever it is that you reach for.

I think that's just a story." "But, Jace," she said. "All stories are true.

I think the best fiction is about the absolute irrepressibility of love in the face of every circumstance to the contrary. Even in someone as dark, on the face of it, as Faulkner often is, there is that unquenchable glimmer...."Grace will ever find a way." I don't think fiction has to be hokey, or end up hitting you on the head with positivity, to be life affirming. I think all we have to do is go on down to the bottom of the truth and hang out there in the dark for a bit, with nowhere to go but up, and grace will find a way.

I think the camouflage of fiction allows more authenticity – you know, acknowledging that it is a ‘fiction’, a terrific lie, and that you want it to be believed.

I think the idea that we have anything to begin with is a lie we tell ourselves every day until we believe it. I think the law is there to enforce fictions that would not exist otherwise. Certain laws prevent us from deviating from those fictions, and thrive as a framework for the lifestyle we are all required to live. I believe that the reason possession is nine-tenths of the law is that without those laws there wouldn’t be any possession at all.

I think the future deserves our faith. But it is hard to argue with Emily Dickinson.

I think the highest purpose of fiction is to show that all people are fundamentally worthy of mercy.

I thought about writing the character as male, but then I would be forced to portray him as a woman in a man's body.

I thought you'd be interested in these things as a government man. Ain't you mixed up in the prices of things we eat or something? Ain't that it? Making them more costly or something. Making the grits cost more and the grunts less?

I threw my hands on my hips, shocked by the irony. A Mather helping a Greensmith? Hell was freezing over somewhere beneath our feet and every kind of farm animal was sprouting wings to fly.

It is a dangerous thing to substitute reading or writing for living. Live first, then write.

It is amazing how sharing of one’s intimate details can make human beings forget the formality of a relationship and bring them closer together.

I thought I was in love, but it was only a head cold." (Humans)

I thought what I had then was something people got no matter what. I got it wrong, maybe, Laura says.

It hurts,” Summer cries, head shaking back and forth. “Please, make it stop.” Sweat beads on her forehead. “What hurts?” Cameron asks. “My eyes.” Summer’s eyes open. Everyone gasps. They’re no longer blue; they appear bionic, like a circuit board’s inside her eyes. Panicked now, Summer reaches for her face. “What is it? What’s wrong?

It is better, perhaps, to be thought of as a fiction than to be discarded from memory completely.

It hurt, remembering. Hurt because there was so much I'd done, so much I'd yet to do. In so many different ways, I now realized, not remembering had been a blessing. A brief respite in the twisted bloody mess that my life had become. But at least I knew who I was.

It is important for us to develop the ability to differentiate between truth and fiction to escape from the darkness of ignorance and be in the light of understanding. Only when we know the truth as it is, we can be free from the illusions of life.

It is funny,’ she said, ‘That even after all this time, you still believe you should be rewarded, just because you have been obedient. I thought you would have learned that lesson in your father’s halls. None shrank and simpered as you did, and yet the great Helios stepped on you all the faster, because you were already crouched at his feet.’ She was leaning forward, her golden hair loose, embroidering the sheets around her. ‘Let me tell you the truth about Helios and all the rest. They do not care if you are good. They barely care if you are wicked. The only thing that makes them listen is power.

It is foolish to believe that you are insignificant.

It is man who has abandoned God, not God who has abandoned man.

It is not often that I have two options to choose from. It is nice to be compelled towards something, otherwise one drifts through life unimpeded. Bhanggi