Best 4069 quotes in «fiction quotes» category

Death was a leech; no matter which side of the spectrum you were on, either dead or alive, it fed. It either acquired your soul or devoured all your joyful emotions.

De câte ori căutăm să fim mai buni decât suntem, totul în jurul nostru devine mai bun.

Defining moment in new telepathist's life, moment when intuitive individual learns most of society isn't telepathic, doesn't see auras,doesn't know what life on ethereal astral plane is like.

Demons exist,' he says simply, as if talking about the weather. 'They are real and they are dangerous. We hunt them when necessary and return them when we can.

De pronto le pareció, que el amor erótico y el amor romántico, no era nada más que una forma o varias formas del ego. Por consiguiente, lo que había que hacer era dirigir el ego de uno mismo hacia destinatarios que no fuesen personas, o hacia personas de las que uno no esperase nada. El amor podia ser puro, pero sólo si no era egoista.

Derailed. In exile. Deeply ashamed, despised. Yet she had so little pride, she was grateful most days simply to be alive. There is Minimalist art; there are minimalist lives.

Despite how lonely or broken down you might feel, we need you with us helping to make the world better, kinder and safer, especially for the little girls coming up.

Después del segundo rechazo, me reafirmé en mi decisión de no sentirme mal por él cuando me habló de "nuestra afinidad", fruto de "nuestra renegancia", mencionó nuestra relación sin que esta existiese, y entonces me di cuenta de que trataba mis desaires como si no lo fueran, como si de hecho contasen como primeras citas. En cuanto a sus modales de acosador y a lo seguro que estaba de nuestra relación y del futuro de nuestra unión, yo jamás habría imaginado que los perturbados, ilusos, obsesivos y amenazadores del mundo pudieran recuperarse al instante de ser perturbados, ilusos, obsesivos y amenazadores y dar marcha atrás como si se acabase el mundo hasta plantarse en la adulación y la oscuridad.

Despite what you think you know, most people don't want to fight, especially when evenly matched. … That's why you see those pissed young men doing the dance of "don't hold me back" while desperately hoping someone likes them enough to hold them back.

Despite the objection from his mother he had decided to visit a clinic with the woman. He knew, he would forever be obliged to her. He had found a job, but he could not keep it because of his addiction. He had no money. The woman paid the expenses. She introduced him to people who would understand his problem and help him deal with it. She made him join Sex Addicts Anonymous. She helped him deal with his urges. He had started to believe that sexual addiction was real. Suddenly, everything made sense. He was not a freak, he had a serious problem. He suffered from a disorder. He had the option to set things straight. He underwent Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, which he benefited from. A prostitute had set him free. - from story 109 of You Me & Stories

Dialogue in fiction should be reserved for the culminating moments and regarded as the spray into which the great wave of narrative breaks in curving toward the watcher on the shore.

Dialogue is not just quotation. It is grimaces, pauses, adjustments of blouses, doodles on a napkin, and crossings of legs. When people communicate, they communicate with their faces, their bodies, their timing, and the objects around them. Make this a full conversation. Not just the words part.

dianemoorewriter.com February 11, 2015 · From Love Thy Neighbor" On journalism and news purists as well as why I pursued print instead of TV journalism/news at the No. 1 journalism school in the country: news reporters are willing to take risks "so that people can base their lives on a foundation of truth not lies. That's why I do it -- to be the one responsible voice in the crowd." Page 105' "Love Thy Neighbor

Did I love her? No. I obsessed over her completely. And thank heavens I was obsessed. Obsession, infatuation, is something short-lived. A sweet fever dream that leaves you exhausted from the high. Love is perpetual. Love is an entire world compared to that other form of mania people mistake love for. If love is loving the reality of a person, obsession is idealising the fantasy of another. Did I love her? No. Never. But I was utterly obsessed.

Did time move forward, through people, or did people move through it, like clouds across the sky?

Did you ever think much about jobs? I mean, some of the jobs people land in? You see a guy giving haircuts to dogs, or maybe going along the curb with a shovel, scooping up horse manure. And you think, now why is the silly bastard doing that? He looks fairly bright, about as bright as anyone else. Why the hell does he do that for living? You kind grin and look down your nose at him. You think he’s nuts, know what I mean, or he doesn’t have any ambition. And then you take a good look at yourself, and you stop wondering about the other guy… You’ve got all your hands and feet. Your health is okay, and you make a nice appearance, and ambition-man! You’ve got it. You’re young, I guess: you’d call thirty young, and you’re strong. You don’t have much education, but you’ve got more than plenty of other people who go to the top. And yet with all that, with all you’ve had to do with this is as far you’ve got And something tellys you, you’re not going much farther if any. And there is nothing to be done about it now, of course, but you can’t stop hoping. You can’t stop wondering… …Maybe you had too much ambition. Maybe that was the trouble. You couldn’t see yourself spending forty years moving from office boy to president. So you signed on with a circulation crew; you worked the magazines from one coast to another. And then you ran across a little brush deal-it sounded nice, anyway. And you worked that until you found something better, something that looked better. And you moved from that something to another something. Coffee-and-tea premiums, dinnerware, penny-a-day insurance, photo coupons, cemetery lots, hosiery, extract, and God knows what all. You begged for the charities, You bought the old gold. You went back to the magazines and the brushes and the coffee and tea. You made good money, a couple of hundred a week sometimes. But when you averaged it up, the good weeks with the bad, it wasn’t so good. Fifty or sixty a week, maybe seventy. More than you could make, probably, behind agas pump or a soda fountain. But you had to knock yourself out to do it, and you were standing stil. You were still there at the starting place. And you weren’t a kid any more. So you come to this town, and you see this ad. Man for outside sales and collections. Good deal for hard worker. And you think maybe this is it. This sounds like a right town. So you take the job, and you settle down in the town. And, of course, neither one of ‘em is right, they’re just like all the others. The job stinks. The town stinks. You stink. And there’s not a goddamned thing you can do about it. All you can do is go on like this other guys go on. The guy giving haircuts to dogs, and the guy sweeping up horse manute Hating it. Hating yourself. And hoping.

Di a tus amigos que soy el último de una raza agonizante. Único superviviente de un planeta moribundo. He venido a robar a todas las mujeres... a violar a todos los hombres... y a aprender cómo se baila el twist.

- Dicen por ahí que está usted a punto de abrir una librería. Eso significa que no le importa enfrentarse a cosas inverosímiles. (…) - ¿Por qué cree que abrir una librería es inverosímil? -le gritó al viento-. ¿La gente de Hardoborough no quiere comprar libros? - Han perdido el deseo por las cosas raras -dijo Raven mientras seguía limando-. Se venden más arenques ahumados, por ejemplo que truchas están medio ahumadas y tienen un sabor más delicado. Y no me diga usted que los libros no constituyen una rareza en si mismos.

Dies iral, dies illa Solvet Saeclum in Favilla Teste David cum Silylla That Day of Wrath, that day of burning Seer and Sibly speak concerning All the world to ashes turning

Different versions of a true story

¡Dios bendiga los tiempos antiguos, en que existían cosas raras...!

Dmitri’s nerves calmed as he walked through the hedgerow maze, easily finding his way to the centre, sitting awhile. He had walked the grounds three times, before he finally went into the graveyard, looking for Sveta’s grave. It was easy to find. Easier since he had been to it every night since her passing. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her, strawberry hair blowing in the afternoon autumn wind, face flushed with laughter, eyes sparkling. She’d been a plain girl too. But she’d loved him.

Does Carthage even have forests? Did Virgil know for sure or was it just convenient for his story? Virgil was a professional liar. This would not be the only place where he pruned the truth until it was as artificial as an espaliered pear tree against a wall, forced into an expedient shape and bearing the demanded fruit.

Does bad luck come in 3's...or is it multiples of 3?

Do not forget about the butterflies.

Do not mess with this man's threads!

Do not reach for the stars, tear down the sky.

Don't let the whys have it. Don't let them take advantage of you. They'll crush your heart and steal your peace and mess with your mind and wrap around you so tight you won't be able to breathe. Don't le the whys ruin your life, child. Every time they try to sneak up, push them aside and move forward.

Don’t break the rules when you haven’t fully figured them out yet.

Don’t interrupt when your characters take a flight of their own.

Don't mind Russ," he says. "He's a good kid underneath all those holes, although it's a wonder he doesn't spring a leak when he drinks

Don't make rash decisions while the world is dark. Wait for the light to make all things clear.

Don't they understand what fiction is?

Don't starve an instinct with a lie on, Never hit or deceive a wounded lion. He heals faster than you can imagine And hurts even more when in famine.

Don't ruin a good story with the facts.

Don’t trust anybody else—no matter how close you are to them.” (Eric)

Do you think we can be friends?” I asked. He stared up at the ceiling. “Probably not, but we can pretend.

Don't worry,' my girl said, 'I'll teach you to outwit pity.

Don’t you ever cry again, Miss Zarish,” he said in a strict but mild tone. “I would rather die than see tears in your eyes.

Don't worry I won't embarrass you. I'm just going to check out his friends. Maybe his grades and definitely his track record with the ladies.” “Jackson Ryan Taylor, I swear to whatever holy being there maybe that I will personally rip you a...” “Whoa, calm down. She's violent,” he whispered only for Danny. “Can't I be concerned?” “Yes, so long as you keep your mouth shut.” “What?” “Not a word, Jack. I mean it.” “Moira...” “Not a word!” I stormed out of the bathroom and that was the end of that conversation

Do you play?” Quincy jerked her eyes away from the instrument to find Lord Arch watching her, his mouth drawn in a very familiar straight line. “Only for myself, now that Ezekiel is dead,” she answered truthfully. “How delightful,” he said, smiling, his handsome face giving way to the refined wrinkles of his age. “Why don’t you play for yourself now, and I’ll just listen?

Do you want the truth or fiction?

Dreams are not only about money as it seems, From outside it may not be visible but it has endless beams, And most funny part of it is that dream never ends, If you reach your dream place then new dreams it amends.

Dr. Jules Hilbert: Hell Harold, you could just eat nothing but pancakes if you wanted. Harold Crick: What is wrong with you? Hey, I don't want to eat nothing but pancakes, I want to live! I mean, who in their right mind in a choice between pancakes and living chooses pancakes? Dr. Jules Hilbert: Harold, if you pause to think, you'd realize that that answer is inextricably contingent upon the type of life being led... and, of course, the quality of the pancakes.

During the Japanese invasion, bombs had fallen from the sky and people could run for cover. Now, they exploded in the middle of the road, or in the fields while people were playing soccer.

Dying is not a solution.. I want to live with You..!

Do try The House by fresh new author, Susannah Mansfield, it's funny, sad and very different, you'll love the characters and the stories.

Do You Believe?

Dreams are good at playing with your memory. They love leaving no trace behind and hate to show up once again in the morning.

Dreams only come true if you point yourself in their direction