Best 4069 quotes in «fiction quotes» category

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

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 great novels are about obsession and people who are obsessed.

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 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 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.

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.

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.

A long time ago, there was a little girl called Mary. Now Mary, she was warned several times not to go to her neighbor’s house. Her neighbor was a grandmother. But Mary hardly listened, so she snuck off one night to spy on her. She tried the front door first, and it creaked open. Then suddenly, she heard a squeaking noise upstairs. She followed it – climbed up the wooden stairs where half of it was already rotten. She heard the squeaking noise again. It was coming from the library. She opened the door and hid behind a couch. She peered out, and she saw the grandmother.” Dave paused to drain his cup of coffee before continuing. My heart thudded so loudly, I thought that everyone could hear it. “So Mary gasped in disbelief as she heard the squeaking noise again, and the grandmother’s rocking chair was not moving at all. Then the grandmother opened her eyes and looked directly at her, holding her gaze steadily and sharply, and then suddenly, BOO!

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.

And I feel certain that you will, because I've come to take it away. I'm from the furniture shop, and the bed isn't paid for.

And I like your laugh, Sabbath; it’s inaudible.

And in a way I have always thought that words are alive a little, for they can whisper sweet nothings and roar dragon flame with equal efficiency.

And I had just kissed my ex-girlfriend, who had cried, while my current girlfriend was in jail. So far, it had not been my best day.

And in the absence of even a hint of an exchange, Joaquin spun around and lunged at Ross, grabbed him by the throat, and knocked him down. With dry, brittle leaves and debris suddenly thrust upward, the two were covered in a dark, hazy hell as they pursued a violent struggle for what seemed like an eternity. As he gained his footing, Ross shot back with a punch to Joaquin’s head followed by several body punches. Joaquin stumbled backward and fell giving Ross those precious, few seconds required for escape.

And look what just came in! She is being prayed for now! And look who he is praying to!! We are keeping a close watch on this situation. We can't have her leave our side. Not by the Enemy. He's already done enough!" Oh no. I saw those dreaded words on the paper. In the Name of Jesus. Pray to anyone else. Not to him. Not to that one. Oh. This can't be good.

And just as it only takes a moment to die, it only takes a moment to live. You just close your eyes and let every futile fear slip away. And then, in this new state, free from fear, you ask yourself: who am I? If I could live without doubt what would I do? If I could be kind without the fear of being f***** over? If I could love without he fear being hurt? If I could taste the sweetness of today without thinking of how I will miss that taste tomorrow? If I could not feat the passing of time and the people it will steal? Yes. What would I do? Who would I care for? What battle would I fight? Which paths would I step down? What joys would I allow myself? What internal mysteries would I solve? How, in short, would I live?

And maybe her eyes still worked regardless of the shape she took, and she could see everything. And maybe somehow she broke through the atmosphere and was sent somewhere out in space where she couldn’t tell if her eyes were opened or closed.

And once you've been to this Center, this Truth, you'll know your way everywhere. You are never lost again.

And remember this most of all: when it is darkest, that is when you can see the stars most clearly.

And in a land accustomed to so much anguish, Chase tried to be careful with words. His soccer moms began assigning nicknames during the first day of official practice: Difom, Kakas, Kochma, and Maldyok, which roughly translated to Deformed, Carcass, Nightmare, and Bad Eye. He made a new rule regarding nicknames.

And now you don't have to be perfect, you can be good.

And now the bride begins to move. Little mechanical doll, clinging to her husband’s arm, climbing into the carriage. Her white silk stocking, her elegant shoe.

And now, we are above it all. Just me and her and the stars. The world is at our feet.

And she knows then that she was right about her brother, that it takes an unbelievable strength to feel this kind of grief, and she doesn't know if she can handle it, because it really hurts, hurts her more than the razor ever could.

And the game of dominoes is much like life: You gotta play the bones you’ve pulled. It don’t matter if you got seven doubles in your damn hand.

And there it is! Bravo! I knew it was only a matter of time before Byron realized he had an audience. That man is simply incapable of keeping his shirt on when there are spectators. One Christmas Eve, he stripped his shirt off right in the middle of the choir's rendition of Oh Child of Bethlehem. Coincidentally, the next song was Come Let Us Adore Him and the imbecile actually launched into some interpretive dance.

And so we continued to live in fear, hoping that we would not get caught. Fear had become our constant companion at this dreadful Lashkar-e-Taiba camp.

Andrew Lloyd Webber's version of the Kool-Aid jingle is at once chilling and evocative. Donny Osmond is brilliant as James Jones.