Best 4069 quotes in «fiction quotes» category

May was the best person I ever knew.... She understood people and she let them be whatever way they needed to be. She had faith in every single person she ever met, and this never failed her, for nobody ever disappointed May. Seems people knew she saw the very best of them, and they'd turn that side to her to give her a better look.

Me han dicho —a modo de crítica— que vivo en la luna. Les he dicho —a modo de crítica— que viven en la Tierra.

…Mellor’s statement is extremist in two directions: human civilization is in imminent peril, and only one solution will work. I doubt both these formulations, and almost every fiction I have encountered that depends upon them.

Memory is fiction . . . All memory is a way of reconstructing the past. . . The act of narrating a memory is the act of creating fiction. [Armitstead, Claire. “Damon Galgut talks about his novel In a Strange Room.” The Guardian. 10 September 2010.]

Memory is like fiction: or else it' fiction that's like memory.

Memory is like fiction: or else it's fiction that's like memory.

Memory is an artist, an impressionist. She adds colour, sound, smell and emotion to events at her whim. She adds, subtracts and embellishes until the event she started documenting is quite unrecognisable to the others who also experienced it, but at the same time, is more truthful to the owner of the memory. There is no reality. There are only impres- sions of past events, made by a million selves, all interacting with each other, vying for superiority. Reality doesn’t exist, perhaps in the end, that’s my only truth.

Men like you and I make myths, we weave stories to sanctify the life that has been given to us. But not Govinda. Men like him don’t make myths; they make destiny. – Kshatta Vidur

Merdeka!' the Malay man screamed. 'Merdekaaaaaa!' the sea of people echoed.

Meredith immersed herself in the novels. For some reason, fiction hit on the meaning of life so much more concisely than real life itself did.

Milcas raced out his door, anxious to find the answer to this riddle and discover the source of hope for a Roegan in Fargranther; the propellant of an unheard of, forgotten, impossible, and by all accounts, damned idea.

Mi naturaleza no prevé guerras. No estoy hecho para odiar. Qué lleva a la gente a dispararse mutuamente es algo incomprensible para el corazón de un osito. Yo no soy amigo de los niños, ni amigo de las mujeres o de los hombres, ni amigo de los soldados ni amigo de los que oponen resistencia: yo soy amigo de los seres humanos, esa es mi disposición natural.

Miniture protoplasm, the dirty little bastard!

Minds that have withered into psychosis are far more terrifying than any character of fiction.

Misery comes to miser; joy comes to wiser. (A Very Hot Cup of Tea, Empathy) Juvenile invites, youth tries, adult applies, and the old man dies. (A Straw Man, Empathy) In everyone, there lives a superhero. (The Medicine Man, Empathy) Faith is the strongest word in any dictionary. (The Wisdom Beard, Empathy) I’ve entered into your feelings; it’s your turn now. (Empathy)

Mistakes? That's why they put erasers on pencils.

MISS PRISM: Memory, my dear Cecily, is the diary that we all carry about with us. CECILY: Yes, but it usually chronicles the things that have never happened, and couldn't possibly have happened.

Miz Ellen, what do you carry in that handbag of yours that has enough wallop to knock down a full-grown man? - Dan Landry

Misunderstandings arise only in undefined relationships

Mmm.” Sebastian moaned. “It’s so delicious.” He laughed then. “It’s not the Poisonous Desert; it’s the Oreo Desert.” He scooped up handfuls of dirt and stones and funneled it into his mouth. He licked his palms, his teeth grinding against rock. “Did the plant scramble his brains?” Firen asked, her lips twitching just a smidgen. “The plant’s poison makes you delusional,” Gabriella informed as Egnatious and Firen yanked Sebastian to his feet. “He’ll probably be a bit Looneyville for a while.

Money is a fictional concept.

Moreover, it is not just that the early documents are silent about so much of Jesus that came to be recorded in the gospels, but that they view him in a substantially different way -- as a basically supernatural personage only obscurely on Earth as a man at some unspecified period in the past, 'emptied' then of all his supernatural attributes (Phil.2:7), and certainly not a worker of prodigious miracles which made him famous throughout 'all Syria' (Mt.4:24). I have argued that there is good reason to believe that the Jesus of Paul was constructed largely from musing and reflecting on a supernatural 'Wisdom' figure, amply documented in the earlier Jewish literature, who sought an abode on Earth, but was there rejected, rather than from information concerning a recently deceased historical individual. The influence of the Wisdom literature is undeniable; only assessment of what it amounted to still divides opinion.

Most civilizations had more fiction than they did real history.

More than likely you’ll do well enough alone by the engines of your own fate until you either hit a few really nasty bumps in the road or grow old enough to realize that there may be a diamond or two in what you thought was your old man’s bucket.

Most fan fiction is terrible.

Most girls celebrate their birthdays with friends. I spent mine with a pack of wolves.

Most of all, he loved Celia Johnson, her hats,her face,her cracked porcelain voice: 'This can't last. This misery can't last.Nothing lasts really,neither happiness nor despair.Not even life lasts long....There'll come a time in the future when i shan't mind about this any more....

Most of the time, we see only what we want to see, or what others tell us to see, instead of really investigate to see what is really there. We embrace illusions only because we are presented with the illusion that they are embraced by the majority. When in truth, they only become popular because they are pounded at us by the media with such an intensity and high level of repetition that its mere force disguises lies and truths. And like obedient schoolchildren, we do not question their validity and swallow everything up like medicine. Why? Because since the earliest days of our youth, we have been conditioned to accept that the direction of the herd, and authority anywhere — is always right.

Motionless we traverse countries we fancy we see, and your thought, blending with the fiction, playing with the details, follows the outline of the adventures. It mingles with the characters, and it seems as if it were yourself palpitating beneath their costumes.

Most people surrendered fairy tale hopes in exchange for cookie cutter lives

Movie. What's my favorite kind of movie?” “Is there a point to this?” “Please, Lucy. What's my favorite movie?” “Horror. Why?” “No reason,” I sighed as I slouched back in the chair. “And would you stop that! Please? It's distracting,” she said as she slammed her hand down on top of mine to stop me from twirling my ring. I jerked my hand out from under hers so I could cross my arms over my chest. “What's with you today?” Her tone was saturated with distaste. “Nothing.” “Well, you're being awfully annoying for nothing to be wrong,” she retorted. “Go ahead, Josh. I'm listening now.” I could feel the cold emanating from her and flowing in my direction. It had been this way for a while I just didn't want to see it. Danny and Josh looked at me and then awkwardly focused on other things.

Mr. Codro's destiny is Ptolemaic; in other words, based on fiction. Ptolemaic says it all; it means above all fixed and unchanging, that is to say different from real life which is by nature changing and temporary. It means: not according to natural truth, but according to man's desire and the pretense inspired by his fear of dying and his desire for permanence.

My cat mocks me frequently. It's the universe's way of keeping me from getting too big of an ego.

My cat has been Petrified.I want to see some punishment!

…My eyes were wet, tears waiting to drop from my eyes and heart started to sob. The words from Jiya pushed me on my back foot…” Source: 'The Unpredictable Heart - You may be a Victim

My eyes have always been advertisements for an early death.

My eyes refuse to let him leave, but he stands still holding my hand, lingering for as long as possible.

My greatest qualification for writing fiction was my ability, as a child, to lie with a straight face.

My heart started racing, not the bad kind of heart racing, like I'm going to die. But the good kind of heart racing, like, Hello, can I help you with something? If not, please step aside because I'm about to kick the shit out of life.

My insanity begged for a distraction. (Eric)

My interests are varied. They include natural history, lady detectives, and good hygiene,” I said with a significant lift of the brows towards his feet. “What in seven hells does that mean?” he demanded. “It means that if you come to bed smelling like something from a barnyard again, I will scrub you myself with rose soap and a firm hand,” I threatened.

My line of work is much deeper than anything a simple prayer can fix. I wrench the heart; I mutilate the mind. I burn wounds of hurt and pain and I make those inner demons come to the surface: sickness, sufferings, diseases! I know my place. Those little friends and their little God have nothing on me. Sure I have been in battle with God's little angels and sure they may have won a time or two, but this is a different battle and we are living in a different time.

My mortgage isn’t getting any cheaper and I can’t run that Ferrari on faith alone," Revernd Jones said. "Don’t get me wrong, the Big Man Upstairs does what he can but I’ve never once seen him filling up the tank of my car.

My mother had been in the Soviet whirlpool for eleven years by this point. Enough time, I imagine, to unlearn the bourgeois habits of her native Brooklyn, to accustom herself to the farting and shouting of her neighbours, to doing her washing by hand in the collective tub, to keeping her dry food locked up in her wardrobe

My mortgage isn’t getting any cheaper and I can’t run that Ferrari on faith alone," Reverend Jones said. "Don’t get me wrong, the Big Man upstairs does what he can but I’ve never once seen him filling up the tank of my car.

My one true love remains my self... I dump myself occasionally to keep it interesting

My new story collection won’t please everyone, nor was it meant to. Then again, not everybody lives in my world. If they did, I’d have to move out and find another world to write about.

My sister lived in the moment. She said she would love the summer only when it came and warmed her. But I lived and still live in the future. Where it’s warm when it’s cold. Where dreams are not yet reality. Where the sad people are happy. The only problem with living in the future is that everyone has died, including yourself. So your plans are fiction and your predictions are fantasy. Living in the future is pure fantasy. I think that’s why I love it so dearly.

Most stories are not about people but about life, an addiction like the rest of them that destroys you even as you love it, but you love it anyway and can never get enough.

Ms Rainn, when was the last time you visited a library for the books and not the free Internet it offers?