Fiction is like a spider’s web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still attached to life at all four corners.

She fixed a smile that she hoped looked authentic. Pretending to be content continued to be hard work.

My insanity begged for a distraction. (Eric)

The old are often forgotten. Life moves on without a care for those who wish to remain in the past. We tend to talk too much because it’s rare that we’re listened to.

I’m sorry,” I heard him say again. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a sudden blur of movement as he slid out of his seat, left some bills for the breakfast...

Beware, Underlanders, time hangs by a thread.The hunters are hunted, white water runs red.The Gnawers will strike to extinguish the rest.The hope of the hopeless resides in a quest.An Overland warrior, a son of the...

Dreams only come true if youpoint yourself in their direction

DAYS ARE WEEKS AND WEEKS ARE DAYS INSIDE YOU

Jane woke, stretched, and decided to kill herself. If she hadn’t found a reason to live by the end of the day she would jump from the rig. It felt good to have a plan.

You can’t kill an American Citizen without benefit of a trial.””I can if you’re on the list, traitor.””LIST? What list? What the hell are you talking about?”BLACK LIST, July 24

She shook her head. She was so pale under the diffuse lamp-light that she looked almost transparent, as if Simon could have looked right through her. The way, he supposed, he always had.

The resulting texts always took a narrative term, enigmatic at first but ultimately explicit and often premonitory. The semantic distribution of these basic elements diverted them from their original meaning, thus revealing their real significance....

Fiction is written with reality and reality is written with fiction. We can write fiction because there is reality and we can write reality because there is fiction; everything we consider today to be myth...

If everything comes in your way just the way you wanted them to ,then you’re probably in the wrong lane.

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

War has been glorified by men who have never been shot at.

Curiosity is called curiosity because of how curiously it can creep into people’s behavior no matter what dangers are around.

THE BEST PLACES I HAVE BEEN TO ARE IN BOOKS.

A well-thought-out story doesn’t need to resemble real life. Life itself tries with all its might to resemble a well-crafted story.

Before I met you, my life ran on sheer amusement. After I met you, my life ran on sheer compassion.

Religion and nationalism? I defecate on the altar of religious conviction, and wipe my arse on the flag of national pride.

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...

Let your dissent fuel you, your anger inspire you, your rage convey you, and your fury strike a chilling fear onto the spines of your enemies.

In fiction, beauty was run-of-the-mill.

Orang itu berdo(s)a setelah berdo(s)a.

Sabrina Thomas clutched the leather-bound notebook to her chest and tried not to be impatient as the elevator in the south tower of Texas Hospital near downtown Dallas stopped once again on its climb to...

There are monsters among us. I mean this quite literally.

But a bond is a bond. And when you’re young and haven’t yet learned to live in your own solitude, even a destructive bond can seem better than none.

I watched her shadow merge with the darker colours of the deep sea.

They are the real ones. We were the future fiction version and they’re the ones that are making whatever we did credible. It’s their heroism, their commitment, their discipline and their victory that’s going to...

That’s what scares me the most, Paul. That I’ll just pass through life and all the people I know will just disappear, without a trace, without me ever telling them how much they mean to...

But Roy Rockwood, it was science fiction for the sake of science fiction.

Margo always loved mysteries. And in everything that came afterward, I could never stop thinking that maybe she loved mysteries so much that she became one.

Imagination is highly suspect. Reality is what is beautiful. But we are blind to it because it is familiar.

Time is going really faster than you think. That second just passed now, get up, pack the bag, get lost…

Young readers have to be entertained. No child reads fiction because they think it’s going to make them a better person.

Then you look at her and smile a smile your dissembling face will remember until the day you die. Baby, you say, baby, this is part of my novel. This is how you lose her.

An elegantly crafted novel, “The Reluctant First Lady” clearly documents author Venita Ellick as an exceptionally accomplished writer able to skillfully weave memorable characters into a riveting story line from beginning to end. As engaging...

Once-upon-a-time we buried the memories we didn’t want.

Exhaustion was pressing upon and overpowering her. “Good-by–because I love you.” He did not know; he did not understand. He would never understand. Perhaps Doctor Mandelet would have understood if she had seen him–but it...

character,” but all it amounts to is that the writers are enjoying themselves writing lies and the readers are enjoying themselves reading lies. In fact, there is no such thing as character, something fixed and...

Derailed. In exile. Deeply ashamed, despised. Yet she had so little pride, she was grateful most days simply to be alive.There is Minimalist art; there are minimalist lives.

Right?” Andrew repeated, his voice swallowed by the sound of rushing water.Akhol didn’t respond again. He tapped a foot above the water before he stepped in and disappeared beneath the surface in one fluid motion.

Can the child who is Dell; be the outer emoodiment of man’s quest to save himself? To cure himself?…Or, to “be” himself?

Perhaps it is our obligation to be noble before it is our obligation to be happy.

She was going to go home after this and sip red wine and stare at the wall, I could tell. She would wonder why she was doing this, struggling against commercial interests at a corporate...

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

It is only through fiction and the dimension of the imaginary that we can learn something real about individual experience. Any other approach is bound to be general and abstract.

Homo Americanus is going to go on speaking and writing the way he always has, no matter what dictionary he owns.

Easy. Peasy