Best 4069 quotes in «fiction quotes» category

I didn't know then that the mind, like the earth, has several layers: a crust, a mantle, a boiling core.

I didn't wait to see her ship go off, because partings are stupid things and best got over quickly

I didn't want to be the woman who gave herself over willingly to the first man to notice her. I didn't want to be the stupid girl in every novel who loved without question and entered relationships that didn't make sense.

I'd never known that I could feel this broken and whole at once.

Idolatry happens when you worship or praise anything excessively to the point of causing you to believe it reigns supreme. All things on this earth are temporal, even your very own desires. Be careful that you do not create idols to worship.

I distracted Herbert by pretending to trip and break a bone. Ethan darted around to the red golf cart with a cocky smile on his face. He put the key in ignition, and the vehicle roared to life. “Hey,” Herbert shouted, snapping his attention to Ethan. I sprang up and ran up to Ethan. He pulled me in the cart and stomped on the gas pedal. We shot through the automatic doors with Herbert on our tail. “Go faster!” I cheered. My brother smacked the steering wheel. “I can’t; it’s a golf cart.

I do love you. I love you enough to accept who you are. Why can’t I received the same feeling in return?” -Ariel

I do not need a scabbard to sheathe my mind.

I don't know. But it takes a special woman to have such a great love - Zhongwen

I don't know if you've ever been covered head to toe in prickle bush, but let me tell you, it's not a pleasant experience, as I'm sure you can imagine.

I don't know how the Wolfman knows all this, but he's not wrong. My warm cheeks turn scalding hot. "Your shame is a good sign. You may break sooner than I thought. The breaking is good. It purifies.

I don’t know. It can’t be outfought, it can’t be outdone, it can’t be outrun. It’s just the way it is. There is no Justice, except the one that is paid for. In blood, or money. I don’t have money.

I don't know about you, but I find the idea of a school at night time - imagining the silent classrooms in total darkness and the playgrounds left lonesome and bare - creepily peculiar.

I don't know about you, but I practice a disorganized religion. I belong to an unholy disorder. We call ourselves "Our Lady of the Perpetual Astonishment

I don't know what it is about this man that makes me melt into a puddle.

I don't know what you're expecting, but ultimately, most people in high school have this obsession with the 'high schooler' you often seen in fiction, so they put on an act in an attempt to become that. And it just leaves you cold.

I don't know who you are," she thought, "but whoever you are, you're one hell of a player.

I don't know who he was," Kavita flat-out states, "but whoever he was he sure did a number on you, didn't he?" Mary leans forward to ensure he would see her deviant stare. "Did it ever occur to you that maybe I did a number on him?" Kavita leans in closer as well, and with that same deviant expression, "Yes. I have.

I don't put much stock in remembering things. Being able to forget is a superior skill.

I don't pay much attention to the distinction between fantasy and science fiction–or between “genre” and “mainstream” for that matter. For me, all fiction is about prizing the logic of metaphors-which is the logic of narratives in general–over reality, which is irreducibly random and senseless. We spend our entire lives trying to tell stories about ourselves–they’re the essence of memory. It is how we make living in this unfeeling accidental universe tolerable. That we call such a tendency “the narrative fallacy” doesn’t mean it doesn’t also touch upon some aspect of the truth. Some stories simply literalize their metaphors a bit more explicitly.

I don’t think I’ve ever referred to any girl I dated as my girlfriend. I think that would freak me out. Even the girl that I dated for two years in college I don’t think I ever referred to her as my girlfriend.” “How would you introduce her?” I asked. “I’m just going to say her name,” he said.

I don’t want to look. I’ve got to look.” Vance... "Vital Perception

I don't watch reality TV, my reality is tough enough.

I’d prefer you accuse my son, so he can defend his innocence rather than prolong unnecessary guilt." (Spoken by Bracke, told by Eric)

If a lioness spends her hours pacing back and forth in a cage of gold with the finest meats at her disposal, does that make her any less of a prisoner? If that same feline’s fangs are filed down to blunt, un-tearing teeth and her roar is silenced, can she still be called a lioness?

If all that one sees is a tiny speck of perspective in the larger scheme of things. And each perspective is made alive by the amalgamation of learning. And learning is a mere accumulation of skill and knowledge : both deriving from Truth. And Truth is not absolute but more of a figment of one's imagination made apparent to the senses. Then all, or for the most part, is fiction.

If an art form is marginalized it's because it's not speaking to people.

If anyone ever saw me, they might call me a spirit, or an angel, or a ghost. They would try to describe me, but they’d be wrong. Even I didn’t know what I was. I only knew one thing—I needed to keep Michael safe.

If Audrey sensed what he was contemplating, her silence did not let on. He turned from the window and found her looking at him with a flawless poker face. It may have been attentiveness and curiosity to hear what he would say next, or perhaps she was expecting from him what women throughout the ages, often against their better judgment, had expected of men.

If a woman chooses to support her husband and become First Lady, I believe she must do so with the understanding that the public expects the full-meal deal.

If a woman were elected president, would our nation expect her husband to be the official White House host?

If certain aspect needs to be inconsistent, it must better be consistently inconsistent throughout the story.

I fear horror became so inextricably related to splatter punk in the late 1980s that a large segment of the audience turned away from it. And thriller became the more comfortable, cozier label because it promised a resolution, a happy ending. Horror came to mean, “I’m going to leave your ass out here in the dark with no way to get home. And one of your legs is missing.

I feel that I was possessed…possessed by demons; those who are and always are going to be, they are inviting me, they desire me and they live because of me…

I feel like these characters, these places, these beings and plots, and even these inanimate objects are counting on me for survival. It’s my responsibility to reveal them to the world, to show my readers the names of these things, to show them their histories and stories.

I felt my heart warm up and become pliable in a way that I hadn't felt in far too long, and I knew in that moment that the thaw had happened because I was finally surrendering.

I felt so much older now, so much more responsible. I guess that there were some positive outcomes: I knew more things than usual, and I knew that I really could accomplish anything and everything. But sometimes, all a fifteen-year-old girl wants is to stop growing. She wants time to slow down and eventually stand still where she can be young and inexperienced forever. Sometimes, she simply wants to remain a child.

I felt numb, I felt empty. I was a shell, an abandoned chrysalis, a tomb lying in wait for the dead

I felt a lot better; not being alone in being alone.

. I felt the sun graze my face as I sped further and further from it all. The only negative part about running was that at some point I knew I’d have to stop. I’d have to turn around and go back. And whatever troubles had haunted me when I left, would be waiting upon my return.

If erotic writing is the objectification of sex, then reading is its subjectification.

If freedom is free and none need worry, then what blood drops for thee?

If God wants to move me, then I go! Yes, I am scared. Yes, I doubt. Yes, I am afraid things will crumble around me. Yes, I know this will be tough and this stress will sometimes seem unbearable. Yes, I know life will never be the same. But God wants to use ME! I am not saying no. I have my call. I must go!

If I could turn my thoughts into spoken words and share them with someone, they’d become real and mean something. Now, they were only lines that could be erased when I didn’t feel them anymore or hopeful thoughts that, like shadows, would disappear when the sun went away. - Rebecca Meyer, Crooked Lines

If I'd had enough breath, I would have screamed, both at the sensation and at the sheer pettiness of the bastard who wouldn't allow me even a tiny chance of escape.

If I kiss you now, I won't be able to stop.

If I owned a volume, I would beg you to print ten thousand copies on your presses and distribute them in the streets of every city in Europe.” “You’d have to show me a way to make a profit from it first,” Quincy responded evenly. “Arch tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, returning to his book as he answered, “I would build an argument so enticing and passionate you couldn’t deny me.

I find the title How to Be Good. Curious, I open it up. I'm disappointed to find it's fiction.

If it ran, a Bean would shoot it. If it fell, a Bean would eat it.

If it ran, a Bean would eat it. If it fell, a Bean would eat it.