I refuse to live in a constant fighting match, Landon. It will not do!’ ‘And I’ve tried living without you, and it just won’t do!

Her eyes were a rich dark brown that were so deep, they reminded me of my sleepless nights, awake, staring into complete darkness. I felt compelled to look deeper, searching for something inside her, but...

Good fiction’s job is to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable.

Respect the dead, learn from them, do not follow or avenge them.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.

Fiction may amuse us, but reality instills lessons to be imbibed through experience; to ‘live’ this stark reality called ‘life’ as a blessing, whereas some foolishly waste it by following fiction and fictitious characters.

By the time I was sixteen I had read many books and I had become a freethinker.

Hell, he now understood, went beyond simple torture. Hell inflicted agony with intermittent reprieves to maintain the hope of peace. Hell was not endless dark, but rare rays of sunlight to keep one’s eyes longing...

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

The last image I registered was Ethan and my hand – linked, bound and unbreakable.

It is ourselves we encounter whenever we invent fictions.

It was a strange feeling, like touching a void.

Kate stops grinding the knife and begins to pass it over the length of the stone. Turning her wrist, she pulls the blade, swiping one side after the other, honing it to a fine edge....

…there are books…which you can’t tell people about, books so special and rare and yours that advertising your affection feels like a betrayal.

I want art that makes the world seem more unreal. I want fiction that can crumble the world and build it back into something new.

Outside of the usual bar or nightclub, it’s not every day that I get a drink bought for me-at least not by strangers and certainly not on a workday. On that Saturday, in September 2010,...

I like science fiction and I read it a lot – if I were a collector, I would bid for his works,

Aku mencintainya tanpa diketahui.Aku mencintainya dalam diam.Aku mencintainya dalam satu sudut pandang.Aku mencintainya di satu sisi.Ya, aku percaya.Jika takdirku adalah dirimu,kau akan memilihku. Nanti.

I am going to show you great and mighty things which no one has ever seen before…. I am going to take you places where no one has ever been. I am going to take...

I heard from clear across the city, over the Hudson in the Jersey yards, one fierce whistle of a locomotive which took me to a train late at night hurling through the middle of the...

Without love, we would not comprehend compassion.- Govinda Shauri

All novels . . . are concerned with the enigma of the self. As soon as you create an imaginary being, a character, you are automatically confronted by the question: what is the self? How...

Okay, I deserved that,” I admitted.

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.

So. If this was some normal fictional young-adult book, this is the part of the story where after the film, the entire high school would rise to their feet and applaud, and Earl and I...

Go ahead, Josh. I’m listening now.”I could feel the cold emanating from her and flowing in my direction. Ithad been this way for a while I just didn’t want to see it.Danny and Josh looked...

No matter how ephemeral it is, a novel is something, while despair is nothing.

Characters are just extensions of my madness.

The difference between nonfiction and fiction is that fiction must be absolutely believable.

Observando a mi alrededor y escuchando a mis vecinos jamás pude oír hablar de un ser semejante a mí. ,Era, por lo tanto, un monstruo, una criatura de la que todos se alejarían con repugnancia...

It’s about time! It’s supposed to be a ritual, not a marathon.

It’d been a long time since they’d been together, but as close as they were physically, they’d never been so far apart in every other way.

She suddenly felt herself gasping for air, as if she’d momentarily forgotten how to breathe. She rocked back in her chair and nearly fell over, then slumped against the green-covered table. The bowl fell from...

It wasn’t playing both sides of the fence – it was betting against yourself but still playing to win – and it encapsulated everything absurd and paradoxical that I loved about the French.

Foolish potato, talking to her like that won’t work. You’ve got to be mean and show off your foil-wrapped rigidity.

The writer’s characters must stand before us with a wonderful clarity, such continuous clarity that nothing they do strikes us as improbable behavior for just that character, even when the character’s action is, as sometimes...

I have yet to face Writer’s Block and I don’t believe I ever will. It is much more difficult for me to shut my imagination down to get a good nights sleep than it is...

Questo folle uomo mi sta facendo tornare la gioia di vivere, quella gioia che avevo perso alla vista del corpo di mia madre privo di vita e che era stata sostituita, col tempo, da semplice...

for he had acquired, as time went on, the firm conviction that any thought, even the most audacious, that any fiction, even the most insane, can one day materialize and see its fulfillment in space...

She was free in her wildness. She was a wanderess, a drop of free water. She belonged to no man and to no city

Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions. When they are over, this is recognised: that the human race has been harshly treated, but that it has advanced.

The web is a dangerous place for a mind begging to slack off and be distracted by nonsense.

As I lay there watching Robin sleep beside me, I realized that she was right all along. I didn’t need to live in a castle — a shack in the woods with her would do...

Fiction is but truth.. tweaked or disguised.

Every step taken is the first of a new journey. Its up to me if I choose to contine walking or I might love it so much I will run.

We are born to love as we are born to die, and between the heartbeats of those two great mysteries lies all the tangled undergrowth of our tiny lives. There is nowhere to go but...

Fiction becomes visual by becoming verbal

I’d always had a guilty preference for fiction. Since I seemed now to be living fiction, this proved to have been an entirely reasonable choice.

I think fiction allows us to sit for a while with people we would rather not meet.

When will people learn that just because you can make something doesn’t mean you should?