Best 6566 quotes in «stories quotes» category

But stories are like people, Atticus. Loving them doesn’t make them perfect. You try to cherish their virtues and overlook their flaws. The flaws are still there, though. " "But you don’t get mad. Not like Pop does." "No, that’s true, I don’t get mad. Not at stories. They do disappoint me sometimes." He looked at the shelves. "Sometimes, they stab me in the heart.

But sometimes stories hide themselves from writers like trolls under bridges. Then the writers of the world must keep their bodies attuned for the sudden appearance of the story that is powerful enough to change their novels and their lives. They must train themselves to recognize the divine moment when a great story reveals itself.

But she always kept on until the end. She knew, as i knew, that you don't stop a story half done. You keep on going, through heartbreak and pain and fear, and times there is a happy ending, and times there isn't. Don't matter. You don't cut a flower half through and then wait and watch as it slowly shrivels to death. And you don't stop a story before you reach the end. - A Creature of Moonlight

But then, that’s the beauty of writing stories—each one is an exploratory journey in search of a reason and a shape. And when you find that reason and that shape, there’s no feeling like it." [Peter Wild Interviews TC Boyle, 3:AM Magazine, June 2003]

But they get some comfort out of the made up stories. And if that helps them get along maybe I should not poke fun.

But the three hundred and sixty-five authors who try to write new fairy tales are very tiresome. They always begin with a little boy or girl who goes out and meets the fairies of polyanthuses and gardenias and apple blossoms: 'Flowers and fruits, and other winged things.' These fairies try to be funny, and fail; or they try to preach, and succeed.

But this isn't a ghost story: the ghost is in the background, where she has to be. If she was in the foreground she'd be a person.

But we [writers] are crucial. That is what I hope you have learned. We listen for and collect and share stories. Without stories there is no nation and no religion and no culture. Without stories of bone and substance and comedy there is only a river of lies, and sweet and delicious ones they are, too. We are the gatherers, the shepherds, the farmers of stories. We wander widely and look for them and gather them and harvest them and share them as food. It is a craft as necessary and nutritious as any other, and if you are going to be good at it you must double your humility and triple your curiosity and quadruple your ability to listen.

Captain Reed eyed him thoughtfully. "I built my whole life around the stories they about me. You know what I learned?" Archer shook his head. "What you do makes you who you are....

Children force parents to go out looking for a specific pulse, a gaze, a rhythm, the right way of telling the story, knowing that stories don't fix anything or save anyone but maybe make the world both more complex and more tolerable. And sometimes, just sometimes, more beautiful. Stories are a way of subtracting the future from the past, the only way of finding clarity in hindsight.

Choose your story. Choose your future.

Claire shook her head, the little pom-poms on her knitted cap batting at each other. 'I was never doing this.' Eleanor cocked her head to the side with a crooked smile. 'Right. You'll just stand there and watch me do it.

Clichés are the viruses that infect your writing with diseases.

Comedians are people who embarrass themselves in style.

Come with me to the mountains. Every rock there tells a story.

Comics know that time plus pain equals humor and that we can redeem even awful moments from the past by translating them into a shared experience.

Commentators frequently blame MMORPGs for an increasing sense of isolation in modern life. But virtual worlds are less a cause of that isolation than a response to it. Virtual worlds give back what has been scooped out of modern life. The virtual world is in important ways more authentically human than the real world. It gives us back community, a feeling of competence, and a sense of being an important person whom people depend on.

Comfort yields complacency. Break free.

Crying cleanses the soul.

Could we imagine that beauty itself doesn’t just exist in society’s version of aesthetic perfection? Beauty also emerges from places and things that tell us stories.

Create a world in front of your readers where they can taste, smell, touch, hear, see, and move. Or else they are likely going to move on to another book.

Create from the heart.

Cry while writing it, and readers will cry while reading it.

Compelling fiction often obscures the humble truth.

Cutting my roots and leaving my home and family when I was 18 years old forced me to build my home in other things, like my music, stories and my journey. The last years I have more or less constantly been on my way, on the road, always leaving and never arriving, which also means leaving people. I’ve loved and lost and I have regrets and I miss and no matter how many times you leave, start over, achieve success or travel places it’s other people that matter. People, friends, family, lovers, strangers – they will forever stay with you, even if only through memory. I’ve grown to appreciate people to the deepest core and I’m trying to learn how to tell people what I want to tell them when I have the chance, before it’s too late. …

Dante Alighieri wrote his first book in the prosimetrum genre – La Vita Nuova – in 14th century Florence. Since I’m compiling this collection – my first indie publication – in Florence, just blocks from Dante’s house, and since his book involves a lost love, and ‘A New Life,’ I thought it fitting to emulate this style in my own casual, intuitive fashion. My hope is that the juxtaposition of poems, journal entries, essays and prose will create a story; a memoir in anarchistic vignettes.

Day 72 I remember oranges and you don’t mind me leaving the queue momentarily to find some. When you say, Of course, you reach for my arm in sympathy and recognition. This may be the thing that breaks me today, that stops me in my tracks before driving me forward, turning a corner, making something work, letting everything happen. When I return, you’re touching my yoghurts, reading the ingredients, as though you are making them yours, protecting them in my absence and amusing yourself with the cherry-ness of them. On days like this, I want to take my strangers home with me.

David had left her,taking his insane jealousy with him.

Dear Literary World, Sorry for breaking down your door...I'll pay for that!!! Since I'm here and planning to stay a while, let me tell you some stories!!

Dear child, some stories have no morals. Sometimes darkness and madness are simply that." "How terrible," said Farukhuaz. "Do you think so? I find it reassuring. It saves me from having to divine meaning in every sorrow that comes my way.

Don’t just hit a home run. Knock it out of the park.

Doesn't the telling of something always become a story?

Don't be scared of scars. They just tell stories that are hard to hear.

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.

Descriere "Spre sfârșitul anului 2015 am terminat de scris o carte. Am început-o în anul 2013. Sufletul mi-a cerut să aștern pe hârtie o poveste despre oameni. Despre puterea lor de a iubi, despre capacitatea lor de a lupta cu suferința, despre forța lor de a-și construi destinele. Un volum care este de fapt o călătorie prin lume cu ajutorul cuvintelor. O călătorie care ne va conduce într-un final spre adevărul din noi înșine…! Această carte m-a făcut să mă înțeleg mai bine. Atât pe mine, cât și pe cei din jur. Acest volum a fost un elixir care m-a făcut mai bun. M-a făcut mai atent! M-a făcut mai conștient! Așa cum ar trebui să fim cu toții, în fiecare zi a vieții. Fără excepţie!

Did you know that writing stories down kills them? Of course it does, words aren't meant to be stiff, unchanging things.

Disbelief in GOD is like living in the city and denying the people who have been to the country and tell you about it.

Don't be his story. Don't be anyone else's story. Be your own story. Protect yourself.

Don't expect the unexpected. Let the unexpected expect you.

Don’t let the poison of the past spoil a fruitful future.

Don’t look. See. Don’t think. Feel. Don’t hear. Listen. Pay attention Miracles really do happen every day

Don't sit, stand up! Do something; you can do wrong, but no problem, do it! At least you will have a story to tell others! If you don't do something, you will be storyless! And what is life? Life is nothing but a book of stories we write!

Do stories, apart from happening, being, have something to say? For all my skepticism, some trace of irrational superstition did survive in me, the strange conviction, for example, that everything in life that happens to me also has a sense, that it means something, that life speaks to us about itself through its story, that it gradually reveals a secret, that it takes the form of a rebus whose message must be deciphered, that the stories we live compromise the mythology of our lives and in that mythology lies the key to truth and mystery. Is it an illusion? Possibly, even probably, but I can’t rid myself of the need continually to decipher my own life.

Do you ever wonder about the fairy tales of life?

Do you love tragedies and everything that breaks the heart?

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

-Dream up something wild and improbable. Something beautiful and full of monsters. -Beautiful and full of monsters? -All the best stories are.

During a famine, the father and stepmother of Hansel and Gretel abandon them in a forest so that they will starve to death. The children stumble upon an edible house inhabited by a witch, who imprisons Hansel and fattens him up in preparation for eating him. Fortunately Gretel shoves the witch into a fiery oven, and “the godless witch burned to death in a horrible way.” 41 • Cinderella’s stepsisters, when trying to squeeze into her slippers, take their mother’s advice and cut off a toe or heel to make them fit. Doves notice the blood, and after Cinderella marries the prince, they peck out the stepsisters’ eyes, punishing them “for their wickedness and malice with blindness for the rest of their lives.” Snow White arouses the jealousy of her stepmother, the queen, so the queen orders a hunter to take her into the forest, kill her, and bring back her lungs and liver for the queen to eat. When the queen realizes that Snow White has escaped, she makes three more attempts on her life, two by poison, one by asphyxiation. After the prince has revived her, the queen crashes their wedding, but “iron slippers had already been heated up for her over a fire of coals.... She had to put on the red-hot iron shoes and dance in them until she dropped to the ground dead.

Elinor had read countless stories in which the main characters fell sick at some point because they were so unhappy. She had always thought that a very romantic idea, but she’d dismissed it as a pure invention of the world of books. All those wilting heroes and heroines who suddenly gave up the ghost just because of unrequited love or longing for something they’d lost! Elinor had always enjoyed their sufferings—as a reader will. After all, that was what you wanted from books: great emotions you’d never felt yourself, pain you could leave behind by closing the book if it got too bad. Death and destruction felt deliciously real conjured up with the right words, and you could leave them behind between the pages as you pleased, at no cost or risk to yourself.