Best 1169 quotes in «novel quotes» category

Asking “what if” and answering that question is the bedrock of what the novel can achieve. The story becomes something more than one person's perspective—it reaches as far as the novelist can imagine.

Aspiro a no depender de nadie, ni del hombre que adoro. No quiero ser su manceba, tipo innoble, la hembra que mantienen algunos individuos para que les divierta, como un perro de caza; ni tampoco que el hombre de mis ilusiones se me convierta en marido. No veo la felicidad en el matrimonio. Quiero, para expresarlo a mi manera, estar casada conmigo misma, y ser mi propia cabeza de familia. No sabré amar por obligación; sólo en la libertad comprendo mi fe constante y mi adhesión sin límites. Protesto, me da la gana de protestar contra los hombres que se han cogido todo el mundo por suyo, y no nos han dejado a nosotras más que las veredas estrechitas por donde ellos no saben andar...

As they drove on the quiet A3320 towards Notting Hill, Doris spoke. “He won’t, you know. He won’t pay the ransom.” Wolfe offered her a reassuring smile, but inside his stomach housed a million butterflies. Shamefully, he passed wind again, the words of his captive disconcerting him on his journey to Shepherd’s Bush.

As the eclipse progresses, a confusion of chattering birds sweeps low in search of dusk and their shadows skip over the water’s surface and it makes perfect sense that these small creatures should be so moved by events beyond their reckoning.

At age thirty-three my life was boring. Then the vortex opened.

A tightrope walker uncertain if he could make it to the other side probably would not. A race car driver wondering if he was taking a turn too fast was likely to lose control. If a man feared death, whether his own or the taking of another's, death would surely come calling.

At my age, every day that I overcome simple inertia is a victory.

Aut viam inveniam aut faciam It means, in essence, "I'll find a way or I'll make one." It's how I live my life. Another definition is basically "Never give up," which is the path I've taken when it comes to writing books. I've been writing for almost 30 years and just had my first book, THE LOSSES, come out by a small press. And I'm psyched. Just keep on trucking.

Because at night when others are sleeping, I drown myself in poetry.

Bearing witness from the sides of the room, ten or more lepers shouted at the bizarre scene, “Diable! Diable!” And then chants of some sort, or prayers, followed by more shouts of “Diable!” They were hurling these words at Moreau like stones.

Being a Dream Girl is never going to be about what you look like or how much you weigh. After all, our physical appearances are just reflections of our inner worlds. What makes you a Dream Girl is your emotional sensitivity, your self-awareness, and your ability to communicate who you are effectively and compassionately in the world.

Belajar adalah membaca, utamanya novel dan komik.

Bela had thought she knew what love felt like, but when she saw Sanjay at the airport after six long months, her heart gave a great, hurtful lurch, as though it were trying to leap out of her body to meet him. This, she thought. This is it. But it was only part of the truth. She would learn over the next years that love can feel a lot of different ways, and sometimes it can hurt a lot more.

Believe me, I knew you enjoyed it without voicing it that way. It was like your body screamed for me to take you." All too true, but I didn't like it to be told aloud. I arched an eyebrow, something I couldn't do when sober. "I'm pretty sure if I put a hand on your crotch, you're sporting a boner. It works both ways.

Berhentilah mencari laki-laki untuk membuatmu baagia. Mulailah menjadi perempuan bahagia yang dicari laki-laki.

Besides it's not as though the prisoner can truly die, any more than a character in a novel can. You can always flip back to the first page, can't you?

Brian organised for the body to be flown back.

Bringing a novel to light - revealing the form and cadence, shadows and demeanor of a protagonist constructed from thin air - linking scenes and synchronicity across translucent time - holding up a glass brimming with chilled, never-tasted liquid, then sipping from it with intoxicated focus - allowing lovers to make a perilous mess of things, fall apart and nakedly come back together again - looking through conjured windows deep into someone else’s snow-bound solitude, feeling utterly alone yet being all-connected: this is not writing. It’s world-creating. It’s raw, exposed dreaming. It’s humbling. At first too personal and intimate to share, it evolves like a child into a life of its own until I have no say in what comes next. It’s what I wake at 4am to say Yes to, the spinning possibility of a new story relentlessly commanding me to write it down so it can whirl in your experience.

Bu tatlı seste sanki tekinsiz olan bir şey varmış, ya bu sesin sahibi büyücüymüş ya da bir büyünün etkisindeymiş gibi geldi odadakilere. Üçü de tüylerinin diken diken olduğunu hissettiler. [sf 184]

...but at night when he turns the awkward [telescope] skyward, he catches his breath at the clarity of the image and the vast populations of stars unknown to him until then, the riotous glittering in the dark crevices between constellations, a convocation of bright spirits waiting to be found.

But inside loss there can be gain, too,like the small silver spider Bela had discovered one dewy morning, curled asleep at the center of a rose.

But if watching the sky is to be his duty, how should he begin? Now and then he has spotted one of the five bright planets or recognized a constellation, but he knows little about the turning of the heavens. When he contemplates the great distances between this and that, and the vast multitude of solitary objects spread over the celestial dome, he cannot fathom how one goes about searching for what is yet unknown.

But it was not only a feeling of guilt which drove him into danger. He detested the pettiness that made life semilife and men semimen. He wished to put his life on one of a pair of scales and death on the other. He wished each of his acts, indeed each day, each hour, each second of his life to be measured against the supreme criterion, which is death. That was why he wanted to march at the head of the column, to walk on a tightrope over an abyss, to have a halo of bullets around his head and thus to grow in everyone's eyes and become unlimited as death is unlimited. . .

But I was still determined to protect her. It might be the one good thing I would ever do in my life. I wondered if God would even notice.

But seriously Holden, what is the island called now?” “Sentosa,” Holden said romantically and with a flourish of his unoccupied left hand. “Sentosa. Sounds romantic all right. So this is the progress you’re talking about?

Books are an extension of our imagination

Ce e dragostea? E un vânt nebun care ne dă bătăi de cap, dar fară de care nu putem respira.

‘Can’t you see what they are?’ I said. ‘They’re all dead.’

Cases of typhoid take the following course: When the fever is at its height, life calls out to the patient: calls out to him as he wanders in his distant dream, and summons him in no uncertain voice. The harsh, imperious call reaches the spirit on that remote path that leads into the shadows, the coolness and peace. He hears the call of life, the clear, fresh, mocking summons to return to that distant scene which he had already left so far behind him, and already forgotten. And there may well up in him something like a feeling of same for a neglected duty; a sense of renewed energy, courage, and hope; he may recognize a bond existing still between him and that stirring, colourful, callous existence which he thought he had left so far behind him. Then, how far he may have wandered on his distant path, he will turn back--and live. But if he shudders when he hears life's voice, if the memory of that vanished scene and the sound of that lusty summons make him shake his head, make him put out his hand to ward off as he flies forward in the way of escape that has opened to him--then it is clear that the patient will die. " Buddenbrooks

Certe volte è difficile stabilire se è l'alba o il tramonto. Qui il sole è sempre lo stesso. Quando è vicino all'orizzonte comincia ad adagiarsi, come felice di una morte a lungo aspettata. Oppure, se lo guardiamo da un'altra angolazione, sembra una palla un po' sgonfia che sta per lanciarsi verso l'alto in un impeto elastico... ... Mi incamminai verso la riva, misi i piedi nell'acqua. Era freddo. Cercai di immaginarmi T. Per la prima volta riuscivo a vederla come una persona umana, di carne, non come una vuota bambola di un film esistenzialista. La fisicità con cui la vedevo ora che era morta mi colpì con forza. A lei piaceva giocare con le parole. E capii che io non avrei dovuto giocare con lei, che non avrei dovuto giocare a fare un romanzo. Non avrei dovuto scherzare con la vita.

Chief Johnson has full faith on us. Which means if I can complete this task and hunt down the murderer, not only does the chief won't feel any uncertainty on Anthony and I, but the spirits of the victims can move on. It sounds silly to believe that the undead is still around, but it is the truth. And since I have a good heart, I must use it.

Chocolate makes everything better, in the end,” he announced, and Thayer fully agreed. Thayer gave him a smile of gratitude and watched Castel lift his spoon from the saucer. He dipped it, gracefully, into his coffee and gave it a light stir. “Too many people rush to stir such delicate flavours. Take too long and they will clog together to become a lump of bitterness in your coffee. But take your time and be gentle with them,” Castel explained, quietly, “and they will create a symphony of flavours, to melt in your mouth,” he said, leaning down, just until his nose was over his cup, to take a long inhale. He smiled and straightened, extracting the spoon to place it back on his saucer. “Now try it.” Thayer took a sip and almost felt his toes curl at the luxurious taste. ~ Cinnamon Kiss

Death is but a dream and life is merely the daydream of death.

Cinta itu membutuhkan hati untuk mengingat, bukan pikiran

Cold November nights. It feels as if summer never happened. The beauty of setting sun, moon, and stars. Sailing to nowhere, but finding happiness in our togetherness. Never forget what we are. Stranded hearts." Fidelis O. Mkparu (2016), author of 'Love's Affliction' (and soon to be published 'Tears before Exaltation')

Coincidence sometimes happens as in a fairy tale. Wong was in an emotional state of mind. Still smoking opium, he thought about Kwang’s long-dead father, who had arrived in Singapore from Amoy on the junk Nam Hong. The opium den now felt bare and lonely without all the old vibrations. It was also dark and damp and the small kerosene lamp was running low on fuel. Wong added more kerosene and mumbled to himself, “Tonight I am going to smoke my way to heaven!

Conocía las respuestas a casi todas las preguntas que él mismo formulaba. Así la vida era más sencilla.

Cormag caught his hand and pulled him back until they were facing each other. “I think you're amazing,” he said, blurting the words out. Lachlan smiled, completely shocked and thrilled by how captivating he found him. He had never thought this could happen to him, that he would be attracted to another boy. He thought he knew himself so well. “I think you're smart, sexy, funny as hell. You have hidden depths, Lachlan. You only need the right person to coax you out of your protective shell,” he claimed. “Are you the right person?” Lachlan wondered, as he took a half step forward. Cormag took a deep breath and brushed at a strand of hair that was sticking out at a funny angle from behind the top of his ear. He tugged at his short hair every time he talked about his recent break up. He was such a dork.

Cursed the crown that brought such grief to me

Dari Profesor Charlotte ia bisa belajar tentang kekuatan fokus. "Sejak masih remaja, ketika teman-temanku lebih suka belajar menyanyi dan menari, aku tidak. Aku tidak ikut-ikutan mereka. Aku sudah punya cita-cita yang jelas. Kukatakan pada diriku, aku harus jadi profesor di The University of Edinburgh. Aku mulai belajar bahasa asing dengan serius. Salah satu teman sekolahku ketika itu berasal dari Irak. Dia gadis yang cantik dan baik. Ayahnya pengajar di Baghdad University sedang menyelesaikan Ph.D. bidang Kimia di The University of Edinburgh. Aku belajar bahasa Arab darinya. Aku belajar cerita seribu satu malam dengan bahasa Arab darinya. Sejak itu saya tertarik dengan dunia Arab. Dan aku fokus mendalaminya. Kini keinginan saya menjadi kenyataan. Kau lihat Fahri, aku sudah jadi Profesor di The University of Edinburgh.

Dead. Supposedly Suicide. That's how they'll kill Michael too. Make it look like a suicide or an accident of some sort.

Describing colors to a blind is what writing is all about.

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.

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

Did you ever think it won’t be the undead who kill us, but ordinary people?

Di satu masa, rasa itu pernah ada. Hanya saja, kita terlambat untuk menyadarinya.

Discourses, which are mostly wrapped in spurious religious and patriotic ideologies that ignite the enthusiasm of the ignorant masses

Dogeared pages means someone is reading a paperback...

Don’t be offended if you encounter some good-natured ribbing; the idea of writing a novel in a month deserves to be laughed at.

Cinta itu menjaga, tergesa-gesa itu nafsu belaka - Asma