Quotes about fiction

I never was very good at acting. I never was very good at playing the role. Because the true pretending can only come off in our genuine awareness of the real. Only those of us with the most secure grasp on the real can pretend can really be good at the performance. And of course I didn't know what was real I only knew the camera was always on.

Tell me and I’ll forget show me and I may remember involve me and I’ll understand.

Poetry is a way of coming to know the realness of things fiction is a way of coming to know the world of relationships nonfiction is a way of coming to know the world of the mind.

Art never responds to the wish to make it democratic it is not for everybody it is only for those who are willing to undergo the effort needed to understand it.

He judged the instant and let go he flung himself loose into the stars.

They weren't true stories they were better than that.

The truth is that we all live by leaving behind no doubt we all profoundly know that we are immortal and that sooner or later every man will do all things and know everything.

Fiction is the most dangerous place in the world that’s where truth lives.

I had try to tell the difference between the night and the day and how the night was better unless the day was very clean and cold and I could not tell it as I cannot tell it now. But if you have had it you know.

The simple truth is that the truth does not exist it all depends on a person's point of view.

One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture A pale blue eye with a film over it.

Writing is the one thing I know I will never grow tired of in life the one thing I could do until the day I die and still feel like I haven’t done enough.

The American girl isn't ANY girl she's a remarkable specimen in a remarkable species.

I am a spinner of yarns hopefully to transport the reader or listener to places I see in my minds eye.

Perhaps all romance is like that not a contract between equal parties but an explosion of dreams and desires that can find no outlet in everyday life.

You… are the symbol of the revolution that will transform Aryavarta you are the one who has brought us to this.– Panchali Draupadi

For her and Nurul merely to share a meal cooked in their own kitchen was a triumph to wake up together each morning a luxury.

Not that length and weight alone indicate excellence many epic tales are pretty much epic crap.

I believe every story that is made in the mind of an author has a trace in real world.A historical fiction completely or partly has happened in the past and a fiction will happen in the future. We are seeing many devices which Jules Verne predicted in his novels!One day you will hear about an invisible fellow. This thought causes motivation and gaiety for me when writing a story.

Fiction can do more than entertain you it can change you

He never had been good at arguing with women they tapped into pools of resentment over slights that had steeped for years.

The beer gave Penn a headache immediately she blinked like a mermaid struck by sunshine.

Everything was quiet now. It was even too freaky quiet. The house seemed big without anyone else inside. It felt lonely like a ghost town.

It was the sunlight coming through the window that woke Alex up mother nature's own alarm clock rudely snapped him back to consciousness. The white light poured in so arrogantly that it was too much for his eyes to handle. Squinting did not seem enough to defend against it and the light slipped between his fingers when he held up his hand in an attempt to shield his eyes.

I have written about some truly great writers - John Steinbeck, Robert Frost, and William Faulkner. Faulkner and Frost were the very peaks of American poetry and fiction in the 20th century.

Nobody's life is as romantic as it is in fiction.

For truth is always strange stranger than fiction.

Truth must necessarily be stranger than fiction for fiction is the creation of the human mind and therefore congenial to it.

There are no humans left. I should not be alone. I can’t help but wonder that. There were so many of us living. But time started growing young four years ago. It isn’t four years anymore. It’s a number I wouldn’t even be able to say. It feels like four years. It’s trapped in my tender memory as four years. It’s been an age. Multiple ages. It’s been lifetimes every single lifetime that used to exist. I remember my mother screaming. I recall the doctors naming me as nurses wiped away her blood and

Beauty as we feel it is something indescribable what it is or what it means can never be said.

But then the course of events takes no account of verisimilitude. Fiction has to be probable fact does not.

A fiction writer weaves a fabric of lies in hopes of revealing deeper human truths.

Live life to the fullest and never forget the people that supported you along the way.

If you decide to war with us, you will fail and suffer an eternity of misery,” he informed, his tone steady and cold. “Is that explicit enough?”“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” I said cheerfully, getting in touch with my inner smartass.

If this is where you ask me to run around in my birthday suit, I’m not entirely comfortable with that,” I said, smirking.

Let Your Inhibitions Run Free

What are we, Charlie's Angels?

I guess you could say I'm allergic to sunlight. If I'm exposed to it, it could kill me.

Have a smile on your face for everyone you meet, and a plan to kill them.

Halfway to the house Stan stopped and turned to Jane. He put his hands on her shoulders and drew her toward him."I'm glad we're going steady," he whispered."So am I."In spite of the reassuring weight of his bracelet on her wrist, Jane suddenly felt shy. It seemed strange to be so close to Stan, to feel his crisp clean shirt against her cheek. She could not look up at him. Gently Stan lifted her face to his. "You're my girl," he whispered.-Fifteen

Edward smiled, I smiled, even Bernardo smiled. Olaf just looked sinister.

Life is about trusting your feelings and taking chances, losing and finding happiness, appreciating the memories, learning from the past, and realizing people change.

I've come to believe that all my past failure and frustration were actually laying the foundation for the understandings that have created the new level of living in me and now I enjoy ever bit of my life and hope best for rest...something beyond lovelines from Love Vs Destiny...

there were worse things than feeling guilty, like feeling dead.

Lust fades after climax, love lasts until breakfast!

You remember?' he said incredulously. 'What could you possibly remember?' he asked, staring at her, waiting for the answer.The beauty from within her soul shined brightly through her loving eyes as she looked deep into Noah’s now melting eyes.'I remember — I love you,' she said in a soft voice, nervously biting her lip.

Ranerio wrapped his hand around mine, guiding my fingers like Lucius had done when he'd shown me the latch behind the dressing-room door mirror. But while the warrior I loved had been offering me an escape route, the pacifist was trying to show me how to fight.

For one… If you shoot me and your boss realizes it was without good reason, you’ll have fucked up your trial period. And trust me; I know you’re still in it.” Ian pulled open a drawer in a small brown cabinet.“Secondly, it could end very badly for me and I’d rather prevent that. Getting shot is not on my list of things to do today.” He wrapped his hand around the steel grip of his own weapon and removed it from the drawer.“And last but not least, if you plan to shoot me… Well, it’ll be a matter

We want to fight.”“And I want J.K. Rowling to keep writing in the Potterverse, but I know that’s never going to happen,” I said blithely.

I suggest you leave now, or you’ll be tied down and gagged until the end of this meeting.”“Tie us down?”“And gag you,” Joseph cheerfully reminded them.

So if I asked you to wear my skirt and juggle my high heels, you would?” I joked.I could only see Andrew's face in profile, but a grin overtook his earlier grim expression, and he laughed. “I draw the line at wearing women’s clothing.”“Are you sure?” I whispered seductively, nibbling on his earlobe.“That’s cheating,” he said, his breath hitching.I kissed down his neck. “If all else fails, I’ll never rule out using my womanly wiles.”“I refuse to be used as a pawn by my devious lover,” he countere

What would you suggest?” one of the Italian officials asked.“We do have a highly-advanced biological device called the Illuminator,” Joseph chimed in

It took me several minutes to persuade myself to watch the news. During which time I gave myself a stern talking to. That turned into me considering a local pub that would be the perfect place to drown my sorrows in a barrel of tequila, though after much introspection, I scratched the idea just to avoid needless drunken embarrassment. Then, admittedly, I contemplated pouncing Andrew for another steamy romp session. Despite its proven potency to assuage stress and tension, I decided now was not t

Firen didn’t waste any time setting up the meeting with Egnatious. The following day she was in such a rush to tell me about it that she burst into my room without knocking and found Andrew and me in an intimate and compromising position reminiscent of the game Twister. Also, I cannot confirm or deny if there was food involved. Let’s just say I toppled over in embarrassment, taking Andrew down with me in a great heap. Firen didn’t fare any better, as she nearly knocked herself out when she ran i

I’m not above using unsavory beings to kick the Gods’ asses, but the Phantoms are too unpredictable for my taste,” I said.

We need the Fallen Legion,” I said without preamble, trying to catch my breath after running after her.“And I need an evil-proof bubble to put Jules in,” Firen said dryly.“That’ll teach me to start off a conversation with a demand,” I grumbled.

He may be stronger, but I'm not defenseless. He knows that, of coarse. That's why he's here. He wants me for what I can do after all.

Before long, everyone was giving him answers, and feeling a little superior, because it was really remarkable the number of things Chrestomanci seemed not to know. He had heard of Hitler, though he asked Brian to refresh his memory about him, but he had only the haziest notion about Gandhi or Einstein, and he had never heard of Walt Disney or reggae.

I'm not myself," she offered, guiltily. She softened around Tik Tok, and when she did she was, for those rare moments, girlish.He smiled. "You can never say that. You're just a piece of yourself right now that you don't like.

You know who you are you just have to believe it.

Evangeline," he sighed. "It ain't ever goan to be easy with you, is it?

He takes two steps back. Closer to the portal.I can't stop myself. "Ben," I call. And I'm not even embarrassed about how helpless my voice sounds.Don't go."I'll come back for you." He takes another step back. "I promise."Stay."Janelle Tenner," he says. "I will always fucking love you." And then he takes one more step back. Into the portal.And the blackness swallows him whole.

The art of fiction has not changed much since prehistoric times. The formula for telling a powerful story has remained the same: create a strong character, a person of great strengths, capable of deep emotions and decisive action. Give him a weakness. Set him in conflict with another powerful character -- or perhaps with nature. Let his exterior conflict be the mirror of the protagonist's own interior conflict, the clash of his desires, his own strength against his own weakness. And there you ha

No–one believes they’re a hero. But that doesn’t mean they’re not heroic - Captain Spectre.

It's said that there's three sides to a story: yours, mine, and the truth. Check out God in Wingtip Shoes and The Prison Plumb Line to explore all three.

She smoothes the front of the dress, looking down at her hands, at her bitten fingernails, at her big feet in the pointy-toes shoes. This is a woman's dress, she thinks, a young woman's dress. It is not a girl's dress. It is solidly on the other side of the line outside of girlhood. It is a dress that says something big in a very quiet way; it is a dress that is talking to Alice right now, a dress that is making her feel possibilities never before considered, the possibility of perfume and prett

I remember when I was twenty-five,� he said. “No client comes to you when you’re twenty-five. It’s like when you are looking for a doctor. You don’t want the new one that just graduated. You don’t want the very old one, the one shaking, the one twenty years past his prime. You want the seasoned one who has done it so many times he can do it in his sleep though. Same thing with attorneys.

He lived like a devil and died like a saint

A writer is a spectator, looking at everything with a highly critical eye.

It's considered good sportsmanship not to pick up lost golf balls while they are still rolling.

Every sport pretends to be literature. . .

Artists are dishonest creatures really. They foist their version of reality upon us while making it all up. Writers, painters, musicians, auteurs—they’re all the same.

The reading eye must do the work to make them live, and so it did, again and again, never the same life twice, as the artist had intended.

That's the fashion. Fast as the speed of light, they say. Ha! It's got no soul, sir, no heart.

If he's like any other man I've ever met, it's not my smile he's going to be looking at.

To see someone you love in so much pain—especially emotional pain that can’t be remedied—was the worst form of torture.

Death was a leech; no matter which side of the spectrum you were on, either dead or alive, it fed. It either acquired your soul or devoured all your joyful emotions.

But in the end, black can never be white, one plus one must always equal two, and Mara Lynn was a normal little girl.

I want to keep you, till the end of days.

Virginia screamed, grabbing for the door handle and nearly throwing herself from the moving car. James swerved to the side of the road, slamming on the brakes before she killed herself trying to escape. As it was, she flung herself from the car, falling to her knees and scrambling to her feet. Then she ran. Took off like a bolt until she rounded the bend and disappeared from view. 'Way to go, slick,' AJ said snarkily, climbing into the front seat. 'You ran her off.

You look good, Clearwater. Been working out?' Danie teased. 'He does, doesn't he?'Janelle agreed. 'This will totally work.'James' eyes darted back and forth between the girls, his head spinning. 'Wait, what will work?

A small white rabbit with floppy ears and a twitching pink nose bounded out from the thick forest brush. Fingers twitching at his side, James stepped toward the small animal, a nervous giddiness creeping up inside of him.

I don't really read non-fiction, but I have grown up on a steady diet of Wodehouse and, of course, science fiction.

And I grew up on a steady diet of science fiction, especially apocalyptic and postapocalyptic fiction.

Truth is weirder than any fiction I've seen.

A play is fiction - and fiction is fact distilled into truth.

I love science fiction - always have.

Science fiction has these obsessions with certain sciences - large scale engineering, neuroscience.

Yes - 90% of fantasy is crap. And so is 90% of science fiction and 90% of mystery fiction and 90% of literary fiction.

Science fiction is no more written for scientists that ghost stories are written for ghosts.

Most science fiction, quite frankly, is silly nonsense.

What's great about teen fiction is that it's all mixed up - there's highbrow and lowbrow!

Truth titillates the imagination far less than fiction.

Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn't.

A short story is a writer's way of thinking through experience... Journalism aims at accuracy, but fiction's aim is truth. The writer distorts reality in the interest of a larger truth.

What’s going on?� Ingrid asked. “Listen, nothing bad today, please.� She pulled a chair out and sat down. Faye stared at her and said the words as quickly as she could. “I’m just going to give it to you straight as I can. Mila is a witch.� Ingrid busted out with a laugh. “I wouldn’t call her that,� she said. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?� She poured the juice into her glass and took a drink. “What did the brat do this time?� She set her glass down.

Any attempt to list the ten best science fiction novels is doomed to failure.

I am serving the purpose for which I was designed, therefore I am satisfied with my existence.

Maybe he thinks he can rescue me? No one is that stupid.