For it is probable that when people talk aloud, the selves (of which there may be more than two thousand) are conscious of disserverment, and are trying to communicate but when communication is established there...

The door wasn’t closing. Shiloh’s spirit opened up as she considered the possibilities.

Identity was everything, but it seemed I never had one. (Jessica)

I never look at a painting and ask, “Is this painting fictional or non-fictional?” It’s just a painting.

In writing, there is art. And in art, there is craft …

You asked why the rate hate Overlanders so deeply. It is because they know one will be the warrior of the prophecy,” said Vikus.”Oh, I see,” said Gregor. “So, when’s he coming?”Vikus fixed his eyes...

To give herself a measure of credible autonomy, she had decided to invent a husband. Then, in a subsequent flash of inspiration, she had just as quickly killed him off.

Writing fiction is a way of expressing feelings and revealing a certain truth about life, goals, dreams and desires.

When I walk, I walk with you. Where I go, you’re with me always.

I am certain that a novelist is someone who attributes a different reality-value to the characters and events of his story than to those of ‘real’ life. A novelist is someone who confuses his own...

Mer—mermaids. There are fish with women’s bodies or—women with fish bodies sitting upon the rocks. I—I never knew…

Without stories, we’d have even more trouble recognizing what’s real.

Birine aşık olunca, ömrün boyunca onu aramışsın da sonunda bulmuşsun gibi, geçmişini tekrar kurgularsın. Basit tesadüfler aşkın ilahi gücünün işareti olur çıkar. Şimdi buraya yazınca bak ne kadar gülünç olacak: Lise sonda aşık olduğum kızın...

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.

From a distance,’ he says, ‘my car looks just like every other car on the freeway, and Sarah Byrnes looks just like the rest of us. And if she’s going to get help, she’ll get...

Fiction in general holds little interest for me. Novels, in particular, arouse more suspicion than intrigue. It truly baffles me that any practitioner of make-believe should (especially in this day and age) feel the need...

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...

You’re only young once, but you can be immature forever

It’s fiction, the improbable is very probable in my worlds

(M)ysteries in fiction are seldom as insoluble as those in life, as most writers can’t resist the lure of omniscience.

Listen: Common sense doesn’t mean what it used to mean.”-Matthias Chalmers, STAIRWAY2 HEAVEN

To Trin Tragula’s horror, the shock completely annihilated her brain; but to his satisfaction he realized that he had proved conclusively that if life is going to exist in a Universe of this size, then...

With the threat of them being potential spies or saboteurs, nobody will argue against our actions, and history itself will vindicate us.

The human condition is such that we can only stomach so much imagination. We need for things to be labeled either fiction or nonfiction. There is no section in between.

People say I talk slowly. I talk in a way sometimes called laconic. The phone rings, I answer, and people ask if they’ve woken me up. I lose my way in the middle of sentences,...

As a fiction writer, let me make it up, and let me make it up to you. I’ll pen our love story, if you’ll be my co-author.

Once upon a time there was a young lady who lived in a marsh, and her name was Poison.

La vie ressemble plus souvent à un roman qu’un roman ne ressemble à la vie.”(“Life resembles a novel more often than novels resemble life.”)

I told you; I am Arianna, the Siren, your Guardian, and how is a Guardian supposed to do her job if she is clueless about the Guardianee?

A steel door clapped open as a guard stepped from the bulletproof viewing station across the hall. “Adams!” “That you?” “I told you, I don’t know-” The cop pointed straight at him. “Jeffrey Adams! Front...

Life is a bowl of cherries just make sure you spit out the pits

One of the West’s singular migrations–from the Azores to California’s Great Central Valley–is given faces and voices in Anthony Barcellos’s new novel, Land of Milk and Money. Along with its triumphs, the Francisco family embodies...

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

The Female Orgasm. The Big O. That elusive, reclusive Loch Ness of the labia. Does it prove the existence of God, or just His twisted sense of humor?

That’s sounds right. Another $5,000 went to dress up the Little League park where he had played so many games. Seems like he paid off the MORTAGE on his parents’ home, which wasn’t that much.

Nowadays people talk about the things he did as though they made sense. As though even his most disastrous mistakes were only the result of bad luck or hubris.

I think the category between fiction and non-fiction is nothing. The poetry of non-fiction is as fabulous as any poetry you could ever write in fiction. Poets have greatly influenced me. The only difference between...

You’re safe now. Remember that. Believe that.

É preciso que a realidade em mim seja já pura invenção para que eu a reconstrua, para que eu a cante.

Maybe that was the best part. The beautiful peace that came with living her own story, knowing every turn of the page and tug of the heart was a new beginning.

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

Death. It was something I had to think about once. Weird, right? Strange that death was ever an inevitable end, but it wasn’t anymore. Not really. I eluded it. Tricked it. It was an odd...

Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” I said cheerfully, getting in touch with my inner smartass.

Non mi resta che un giorno di vita, dopo averne sottratti quindicimila alla morte, me ne resta appena un altro ancora. Al massimo due

Not a word!”I stormed out of the bathroom and that was the end of thatconversation

Do You Believe?

In the end, fiction is the craft of telling truth through lies.

I don’t know about you, but I practice a disorganized religion. I belong to an unholy disorder. We call ourselves “Our Lady of the Perpetual Astonishment

As a historian, I found myself all too often treating my historical subjects like fictional characters, malleable entities that could be made to do one thing or another, whose motivations could be speculated upon endlessly,...

Great. I’d been dumped in Hell’s waiting room.