Best 4069 quotes in «fiction quotes» category

You couldn't wake someone when his own dreams turned out better than reality.

You didn’t just accidentally win my favor,” I dispute, slowly shaking my forehead against his. “You earned it. Now, if I can just save your life twenty or thirty more times…We might actually be able to call it even.

You ever play that game seven minutes in heaven, baby? Because we're about to play it.

You have absolutely no idea how close humanity came to annihilation by an extraterrestrial race. Absolutely no idea.

You have always known they exist. Everyone feels their presence. Few know the truth. The world of Real Immortals is about to be revealed!

You have filled every fibre of my soul and the spaces in between

You have chosen the path of darkness.

You have seven writers in your basement?” Donald nods, signing, “They like it here. There’s a poet, a couple of novelists, an opera librettist, an essay writer . . . . They don’t usually make much trouble.

You know, Dorothy, you can’t let people bring you down so easily or you’ll have your nose in the dirt for the rest of your life. From what I make of it, for every person with a good thought, there are about fifty who’d try to spoil it. We have to guard our good ideas, our happy thoughts, and fight for them. Because if we let those others snuff them out, well, we didn’t after all deserve them.

You know this has really affected my ability to trust myself. No matter what happened in my life, I was always able to trust myself. My instincts. Two men in a row carrying on indiscretions makes me feel like I made up some story. Almost like a fiction, I wrote in my mind that had a beginning, middle and end. It feels like I manufactured some ideal life that was a made-up invention that I needed to believe was the truth.

You know, one of the interesting things you find about writing fiction is that any fiction you write has to be political. Otherwise, it goes into the realm of fantasy. So like, if you write about a woman in America in 1910, if you don’t write that she can’t really control her property, that she can’t—doesn’t have any say over her children, that she can’t vote—if you don’t put that in it, then it’s a fantasy. Like, well, how is her life informed? That’s true about everybody. If you write about black people, you write about white men, I mean, it has to be political. A lot of people don’t realize that, it seems.

You know there’s this gaping space between us, and if I leaned forward I’d grab Dex’s shirt without ever touching him. You know there’s a three-inch-thick glass wall separating us. Now we know, too.

You know, in everyone’s life you go through just trying to learn what one times one is—one times one equals one.

You know," Kavita begins, "I think I can pick out my own furniture. I am an artist after all. I do have some taste." "No you don't." Nick plainly states. "No man has taste. Besides, I didn't pick it out, she did. Wives are good for things like that.

You know who you are you just have to believe it.

You’ll be civilized or we’ll leave your arse here.” Johan... "Vital Perception

You live on love crumbs. A nibble drops, you gobble up the morsel. The crumb sustains you until he gives you another. Don't you believe you deserve the whole loaf ? " - A Dress the Color of the Sky

You'll have to learn to forgive," he said. "For if you don't, you know what will happen?" "What, Doctor?" I croaked, for my outburst had exhausted me. "It will destroy you," he said as he handed me the tea. A tear came into my eye when he said it for I knew it was true and I would have loved to be able to do it (not because of its destroying me but because it was right, and deep down I knew that) but I couldn't and the more I thought of it the more the blood came coursing to my head so that whenever I'd write I'd find myself clutching the pencil so tight I broke the lead how many times I don't know, hundreds.

You look good, Clearwater. Been working out?' Danie teased. 'He does, doesn't he?'Janelle agreed. 'This will totally work.' James' eyes darted back and forth between the girls, his head spinning. 'Wait, what will work?

You look within and upon and around me, savoring every inch. You pull my ear for no reason, and I can tell you really don’t want to cry. As a tear falls between by breasts, I look away and pretend the grass is a jungle, and the ants, little kings of forgotten tribes.

You look like shit.” “Thanks. I look way better than I feel.

You mistake us for abstaining your kind from undeserving happiness when all we do is to fight for our cause. We are soldiers, not rebels.

You never give such relationships a thought, To give a thought, to take a thought is a function of dissociation, distance. You can't exercise memory until you've removed yourself from memory's source.

You must see it for yourself before anyone can see it with you.” Katrina Rose

You might think of the barrier between fiction and reality as being a bit like a blood-brain barrier, which allows only some kinds of molecules to pass from the bloodstream into the brain. Emotions can easily pass from the fictional world into the real one, so that fiction can feel as if it were real. But BELIEFS are blocked. We KNOW the events have no bearing in the real world.

You never even stole that money and yet they fire you. I could just take Alva Johnson by the neck and make her eat dog shit.

You or me, I'm afraid, and I'm very attached to myself.

You're nothing more than a common bully,' he whispered, voice trembling. I'd shaken him for good now, and it was deeper than just the physical side, my knuckles bruising his throat and his back arching for all his so-called defiance. 'I don't care what I am, so long as you're afraid of me.

You remember?' he said incredulously. 'What could you possibly remember?' he asked, staring at her, waiting for the answer. The beauty from within her soul shined brightly through her loving eyes as she looked deep into Noah’s now melting eyes. 'I remember — I love you,' she said in a soft voice, nervously biting her lip.

You’re injured.” He flicks his chin at my bleeding leg. “We need to get that cleaned up.” “It’ll be fine,” I wave it off. “My mom will descend upon me with a bottle of peroxide the second I hit the door.

You're only going to tire yourself out trying. Best to quit while you're ahead. That way, no one gets hurt.' 'How very droll,' Antoinette said, drawing close to the bars of the cage. 'Because I was going to say precisely the same thing about your little revolution.' 'It's hardly a revolution if the man in charge condones it,' Troius said. 'It's amusing that you assume it is that man who controls Thremedon,' Antoinette snarled.

You're supposed to make your child feel like you want them. No matter what. Even if you're tired, or you're stressed, or you have a fucking photo shoot, or you move across the world, or you haven't gotten a full night's sleep. You do whatever you can to make them feel like the only thing you want in the world is to be by their side, even if you can't.

You're the one taking all the romance out of this," he said. "It's supposed to go, 'that was so brave, how you stood up for your sister like that!' 'Oh, that, what, no, it's what any dragon would do.' 'No, no - you're special. I can tell.' 'Not as special as you. There's a magic about you I've never found in any other dragon!' 'Why - why do I feel as though I've known you forever?' 'Because you have...and you will.' Fireworks! True love and happiness for the rest of our lives!

Your hair is like butterflies,” Sebastian said, giggling like a child. “That’s nice,” Firen said impatiently. “Keep moving.” “Fantastic. I always like my days better with a touch of insanity,” Gabriella quipped.

You’re as plain as the nose on your face,” said Mr. Pennyworth. “And your nose is remarkably obvious. As is the rest of your face, young man. As are you. For the sake of all that is holy, empty your mind. Now. You are an empty alleyway. You are a vacant doorway. You are nothing. Eyes will not see you. Minds will not hold you. Where you are is nothing and nobody.

You’re a talking cat?” Endora asked with a look of disbelief on her face. “My, my, my, aren’t you the bright bulb of the bunch,” he replied with a bit of snarky smugness. “Tell me then, bright-bulb, do you suppose that I need your permission to talk just because I’m a cat?” He raised his paw to his face, admiring his newly gnawed manicure. After he observed the last nail, he slapped his paw down on the floorboards, making a low thud sound. “Because I don’t,” he smirked. Endora was taken by surprise at his rudeness. She stared back at him, speechless and not quite sure how to respond. “Are you a magic cat?” Mila busted in with a question that seemed as silly to her as to the cat. He glared and narrowed his eyes at her. “A magic cat,” he said, standing up to arch his furry back. “Is my talking some sort of magic to you? If it is… then I am.” He stretched his back higher and let out a long purr that turned into, “Purrhaps, you four little witchy girls should clearly refine your meaning of magic so you know what it means before you say the word magic.” “I rather am quite fond of talking cats,” Selena said with a big smile. “Of course, you’re the first one I’ve ever seen.” The cat narrowed its eyes tighter. “Indeed,” he said, letting out a yawn as if the whole conversation were a bore. He leapt off the porch and dash away, mumbling and grumbling his way down the corridor. Selena looked over at Endora. “Rude little snot, isn’t he?” she said.

You're not safe with me." He cut me off, seeming to growl. "I don't want to be safe. I want to be with you. You can't do this alone.

You’re not interested in her because by your definition she isn’t real. But your brain doesn’t know the difference. It’s all just chemicals firing and testosterone giving you a hard-on.

You’re one tough egg to crack. You know that? You’re like a Kinder egg wrapped inside a mystery wrapped inside an enigma.

Your passions don’t have to connect to one another and no one needs to sign off on them. Passion isn’t logical… it’s only the fuel which keeps our souls alive. Let it be that simple.

Your pretense does not fool me, gnome. My eye will be upon you.

You said my name and my heart went rogue

You shouldn't be in here!

You scared the crap out of me,” I shove his bare chest with a growl. “Was that you at the front door?” “Ya think?” He fires back with a raise of his eyebrows, taking hold of my arm again, as he practically drags me back toward the front entry. “Did it occur to you to say something?” I shoot back with a scowl. “I thought you were some kind of psychopath.” My frown deepens, as I consider whether he might in fact be a psychopath.

You've turned on us, New York. We who see your jagged-tooth skyline rise up and want to weep because we are so full of you. We who know that the tumbledown tenements are beautiful, that the cracked sidewalks are beautiful, that the iron and cobblestones, the soot and the stink are beautiful, that the tired old shoemakers are beautiful. That the bodega cats, the gutter rats, the endless clouds of pigeons are beautiful . . . We mourn for you, New York, because you are forgetting us, your brash and ragged children.

You've got the wrong girl." "On the contrary..." the voice murmured, "I've got exactly the girl I want." Her body turned to ice. Her mind fought for calm. There were people only yards away, yet she was alone... "You're bleeding." Lips closed over hers. A kiss so passionate that time faded and stopped... so passionate, it sucked her breath away... Searing heat swept through her- pain and pleasure throbbing through her veins. With a helpless moan, she leaned into him and realized with a shock the kiss had ended.

You were dancing with Yuki and I looked at you. And you turned away and held her closer. Why did you do that? If you didn't want to hurt me, then why?" He looked away, as though he'd been slapped, but he didn't look guilty. He looked pained. "I closed my eyes," he said, his voice so low and strangled she could hardly hear him. "What?" she asked, not understanding. "Tamani held up a hand and Laurel realized he hadn't finished-he was having trouble speaking at all. "I closed my eyes," he repeated after a few shallow breaths, "and imagined she was you."He looked at her, his face open, his eyes honest, his voice a song of anguish.

You will come across people who always affirm by everything you say, but at the hour of need, they simply disappear! Stay away from such people or simply don't fall for their promises.

You want this thing, this dragonsoul, for sentimental purposes. Because you can't let go of the glory days, or you long for a memento. Something to stick up on your mantelpiece so you can look at it and remember a time when you were actually of use to the world around you, when you were more than relevant- when you were necessary. But you've got no imagination, no idea of the power contained in something like that. You can only see what it was: a part of an antique, as useless and outdated as the broken statues you passed along your way. But we... we have true vision. We're the ones who will take the potential nearly destroyed by the likes of you, nearly lost to the desert or even shattered by your own hand, and put it to a better use.

Accident is as much a part of fiction as anything else, symbolic of the grace that, along with will, conspires to put words on the page.