Best 4069 quotes in «fiction quotes» category

Agnes always wanted to go out. Out was better than in. In was inside, in was interior, in was introspection.

A good novel, one which entices the author as much as it beckons the reader.

A good friend will help you move, but a true friend will help you move a body.

A great deal of a child’s life is being asked and being told things by adults and not knowing the answers or what to do. So, I didn’t say anything.

Ah, dear Reader, is there a married man living who hasn’t purged his drawers and closets of premarital memorabilia, only to have one more incriminating relic from yester-life rear its lovely head? Kristy contends that old flames never die, not completely. They smolder for years in hidden places. They flare up again just when you think you’re over them. They can burn you if you don’t deal with them. Such is the price I’ve had to pay for not rooting out the evidence of my life B.C. (Before Contentment). Or, perhaps, for having planted it too well. But that, you see, is no longer an issue. Shall I tell you the crux of this argument? A man with a past can be forgiven. A man without one cannot be trusted. If there were no pictures in my drawer for Kirsty to uncover, I would have had to produce some.

Aku tak ragu mengatakan, bersama denganmu walaupun sebatas embusan angin kunamai ia anugrah

Aku kadang bertanya, kenapa manusia suka sekali mendobrak kenyamanan yang sudah ada. Atas nama mengikuti passion, kata hati, atau mungkin juga hasrat dan nafsu terliarnya.

Alexier found that a dose of humility did wonders to one’s ability to grasp new ideas and, after all, it had been this very ability that made him the researcher he was today.

All around us is a nothing that stretches on for infinity. We humans can barely comprehend that. If we comprehend it we are rarely pleased.

Allegedly, allegedly I say, the R.G.A. were extremely miffed of portrait painted of their monarch, King Tingaling XX, by Master. Portrait apparently, as it’s yet t’be unveiled, depicts King Tingaling XX in rather compromisin’ position with a pineapple, a wad of cash and his favourite pig, Buttercup.

Alle gevoelens die het lief en leed van een echte persoon in ons oproepen, doen zich alleen maar voor via een voorstelling van dat lief en leed; het vernuft van de eerste romanschrijver bestond erin te begrijpen dat, aangezien in het organisme van onze emoties de voorstelling het enige essentiële element is, de vereenvoudiging die het zijn zou om doodgewoon af te zien van echte personen, een decisieve verbetering zou betekenen. (...) En als de romancier ons eenmaal in die toestand heeft gebracht waarin, zoals bij alle louter innerlijke toestanden, iedere emotie tien keer zo groot wordt en zijn boek ons zal aangrijpen op de manier van een droom, maar van een droom die helderder is dan die wij slapend hebben en die ons langer bijblijft, dan maakt hij bij ons in een uur alle denkbare geluk en ongeluk los waar wij in het leven zelf jaren voor nodig zouden hebben om er iets van te leren kennen, en waarvan de meest intense vormen ons nooit zouden zijn geopenbaard doordat de trage gang waarmee ze zich voordoen ze aan onze waarneming onttrekt (zo verandert in het leven ons hart, en dat is allerpijnlijkst; maar wij kennen die pijn alleen in onze lectuur, in onze verbeelding: in de werkelijkheid verandert het hart, zoals bij sommige natuurverschijnselen gebeurt, zo langzaam dat, al kunnen wij elk van die verschillende toestanden successievelijk vaststellen, ons daarentegen de gewaarwording zelf van de verandering bespaard blijft).

All fiction is about writing.

All existence is in vain: unexplained and sterile. I’ll end up alone with all my doubts that will haunt me forever, even after my death..." An excerpt from the book "The Master of the Realities

All he desired was to have a traumatic experience once in his life. Leukemia did not discriminate.

All I'm saying is that there is more to life than the main story. Check out the notes in the margins because maybe they're even more important.

All it takes, is one leap of faith.

...all I knew were novels. It gave me pause, for a moment, that all my reference points were fiction, that all my narratives were lies.

All marriages have their bad sides, because people have weaknesses. If you live with another human being you learn to handle these weaknesses in a variety of ways. For instance, you might take the view that weaknesses are a bit like heavy pieces of furniture, and based on this you must learn to clean around them. To maintain the illusion.

All of a sudden, life became too much to bear. Just like that, for no particular reason. Because there was a child’s corpse in the fridge on rue Parthenais. Because I had to start all over again from scratch, one more time. Because I had rolled my rock to the top of the hill and now it was rolling back down again. The times before, I’d always managed to put on a brave face. But there comes a time when you just don’t feel strong enough to look for another place to live and go shopping again for clothes and dishes and cutlery and scouring pads and toilet paper. This was one of those times. When I got back to the hotel, I asked the Barbie at reception for the key to the minibar. It burned in the palm of my hand. I slapped it back down on the counter and ran out. I had to find a meeting.

All that is required of you is an open mind and a little patience.

All the great novels are about obsession and people who are obsessed.

All this simply shows us that communalism and terrorism are nothing but opposite sides of the same coin. They keep feeding on each other in a vicious cycle, resulting in a society full of violence, hatred, sorrow and intolerance. Every communal act is used as a justification for mindless acts of terrorism . Similarly , each act of terrorism is used as a justification for such horrible atrocities like genocide and ethnic cleansing. And, it is always the innocent who get killed. This is the sad truth.

All who hear are called. All who are called are able.

All you need do, Bernie,”she gulped her toast soaked in coffee, “is present the truth as fiction.

All of fiction is truthful. What you create is your own truth and no one can take that away or change it.

All story fiction is both truth that happens and never happens. Fiction is always about humanity, even if no subject is humanitarian or even human.

All the clues are there in front of us,hidden under a veil,we cannot get the clue by searching for,we have to search for the veil instead.

All the real secrets are buried, and only ghosts speak the truth.

All these uses a valid; all these reading of the book are "correct". For all these readers have placed themselves inside this story, not as spectators, but as participants, and so have looked at the world of Ender's Game, not with my eyes only, but also with their own.

All writers struggle at some point with the problem of balance between authority and involvement, seduction and revelation. Specifically, beginning writers wonder how much description to employ, and more advanced writers ask how much plot is too much or too little. And there is no better place to find answers than in the Victoria's Secret catalogue--or in any ad for lingerie--where the arts of seduction and revelation are so successfully practiced. After all, the secret of the effective lingerie ad is the secret of effective storytelling--to provide, moment by moment, the illusion of imminent expose, to give the viewer (read: reader) the uncanny sense that something fundamentally compelling is always just about to be revealed. Lingerie ads and storytelling balance the veiled and the unveiled, the seen and the unseen, the shown and the about-to-be-shown. In short, it is the art of the tease, the craft of selective 'coverage,' that, not just in lingerie but in storytelling, works to enthrall.

A lone Japanese man stood on the sidewalk a short distance away. Sleek, self-possessed, dressed in gray. Emma’s lover. Moon’s prime suspect. The man who had once been Dr. Toshi Okada—maimed, supposedly dead, come back alive for revenge.

Almost all heroism is designed to make you inert by placing it in a context that you can't possibly act on.

Although nobody could ever know about our friendship, that wasn’t going to stop us from being together.

Although many things may still need to happen before you identify what your exact work will be, I know that every single person whom you’re meeting and every experience that you’re having is necessary to you discovering your purpose. They are points on a map leading you to the moment where a match will finally be lit and you will be able to see through the darkness.

Although when there were too many people around- which there certainly were today- it was hard even to remember to say thank you: all those people were like drowning.

Alva did suffer when the next wave came, and again and again and again, but a short while later she brought into the Vanderbilt family a girl with tufts of dark hair and wide eyes and the sweetest little bow of a mouth. This infant was perfect. Pain? What pain? Look at this child!

Although the villagers rose with the sun to work the fields, attend to the animals, bake their bread, and begin their long list of chores, for me, Leya Truelong, this was a day like no other. Today, Wren River was touched by the fantastic. Desiccate by Bonnie Ferrante

Am ales o carte bună să citesc. Coperta avea culoarea pielii și era roasă, la colțuri, de gura timpului nemilos. Abia vedeam să citesc ce scria pe ea – am aflat, până la urmă, de pe cotor. Am deschis-o la întâmplare, pătimaș, ca un amant dornic să-și miroasă iubita, înainte de a o cunoaște. După ce i-am simțit parfumul, i-am citit prefața. Fiecare carte avea un miros unic, pe care nu-l regăseai nicăieri, nici măcar la un exemplar identic, provenit de la aceeași tipografie. Fiecare carte păstra amprentele dorințelor cuiva de a o citi, a regretelor, a încercărilor eșuate, dar, mai ales, amprentele impresiilor de la final. Acestea te puteau urmări o viață. O carte o puteai citi de mai multe ori și o puteai vedea de fiecare dată altfel. Era exact același lucru ca momentul în care cunoșteai o femeie: într-un fel o înțelegi la douăzeci de ani și în alt fel o înțelegi la treizeci, patruzeci, cincizeci de ani. La douăzeci de ani e posibil să nu ai răbdare s-o termini și, înainte de a o termina, începi alta. La treizeci de ani o citești în paralel cu alta, încercând să te descoperi pe tine. La patruzeci de ani, dacă ea ți-a lăsat o impresie bună, îi dai o șansă până la final. La cincizeci de ani, știi cine ești și ce îți place – o recitești nostalgic, pe nerăsuflate. Dar ce se întâmplă cu acea carte veche, deschisă pentru prima dată? Din ea se varsă, prin particulele de praf, lacrimi uscate. Acea carte, precum iubita fidelă, are ochi doar pentru tine, iar când ți se deschide – citește-o tandru și cu răbdare, căci te-a așteptat mult.

A man holding an assault rifle ordered me out into the hallway. There was a whole tactical assault team standing behind him. “This is so flattering,” OWEN said in my ear as I exited the room. “Look how many guns they brought.

Am Anfang war Gott? It may have been true, but it was not germane.

A man [Joyce] whose earliest stories appeared next to the manure prices in the Irish Homestead knew that columns of prose, like columns of shit, could both recultivate the earth.

Amazing how often the words fool and love go together,” Quincy drawled.

Amelia nodded her head, "That makes perfect sense." "No is doesn't," jeered Otto. "Yes, it does,” sighed Amelia. "Don't you ever remember anything important?" "Of course, I remember how many Star Trek seasons there were and when the Three Stooges were born!

American houses...' she said, peering over her right shoulder and down the street. 'They always seem to believe that nobody ever loses anything, has lost anything. I find that very sad. Do you know what I mean?

Am fost trezit de o lumânare care murea, înecându-se în propria ceară și sfârâia, dându-și ultima flacără. Am văzut cum se înălța viața ei și fumul desena o amintire. În curând, avea să fie dată uitării și înlocuită cu o altă lumânare perfectă: albă și rece. Ea ar fi putut trăi veșnic dacă ar fi rămas înghețată, dar nu mai lumina, nu mai încălzea. Nu mai dădea speranță.

Am I your weakness?" "Of course you are.

...and as she stood on the Ashford platform waiting for the small train to come in, she seemed already separated from the people around her. Tomorrow I shall not be among you anymore; not of you but mysteriously still with you, thought Philippa. As Lady Abbess of Brede had said, "People think we renounce the world. We don't. We renounce its ways but we are still very much in it and it is very much in us.

And at that moment the alligators burst into the room.

...and from here I realized, with the deepest sense of my being, that we can erect and dismantle the great walls of the world, but we will only truly survive as a species when we dedicate ourselves to removing the walls from within.

...and he laughed a laugh she loved more than the warmest of fires on the coldest of nights.