Writing is like running away. Running away to a place you made with your own hand.

do not exist,” or in any case do not exist in the same way as do the inhabitants of the real world. But things manifest in an entirely different way on the unconscious level, which...

Day in and day out we learn to train and grow as Guardians. We do as we’re told and follow the rules. We all work hard. Now it’s our turn to watch some demons tremble...

There is only one kind of immorality in fiction, and that is when you write badly.

Life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent.

Lily looks back down at the necklace in her hand that Kavita had given her. “It must have cost a fortune.” “It did.” He confirms. “Though not nearly as much as you’re worth.” Lily looks...

I am self-educated from genre books.

Romance has been elegantly defined as the offspring of fiction and love.

FUTURE GONE”: “…I wonder what actually this hospital is, why I am in it and who I am. I have no time to find out. I die, with my arms stretched towards the spotlights.Then whiteness.My...

Guilt makes people do the weirdest things. It must be awful to have a conscience.

The real Julian Wells didn’t die in a cherry-red convertible, overdosing on a highway in Joshua Tree while a choir soared over the sound track.

Such a distant, forgotten thing, this Light.

My life is in these books, he wants to tell her. Read these and know my heart.

He thought, that all men, trickled away, changing constantly, until they finally dissolved, while the artist-created images remained unchangeably the same. He thought that the fear of death was perhaps the root of all art,...

While my chosen form of story-writing is obviously a special and perhaps a narrow one, it is none the less a persistent and permanent type of expression, as old as literature itself. There will always...

In the forest you may find yourself lost, without companions. You may come to a river which is not on a map. You may lose sight of your quarry, and forget why you are there....

Love, it is said, is blind, but love is not blind. It is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard. To see the best is to see most clearly, and...

No, it’s not fair, but what makes earth feel like Hell is our expectation that it should feel like Heaven. Earth is earth. Dead is dead. You’ll find out for yourself soon enough. It won’t...

[Referring to passage by Alice Munro] Finally, the passage contradicts a form of bad advice often given young writers — namely, that the job of the author is to show, not tell. Needless to say,...

Gordon Edgley’s sudden death came as a shock to everyone – not least himself. One moment he was in his study, seven words into the twenty-fifth sentence of the final chapter of his new book,...

NOTHING IS GREATER THAN ITS SOURCE

I can write with authority only about what I know well, which means that I end up using surface details of my own life in my fiction.

It never occurs to one to think whether she is pretty or ugly. One just surrenders to her charm.

While I stood on the front porch, watching him climb into his vehicle, I breathed in the humid air. I looked at the cloudless sky, and the blue vastness of it made me think about...

I knew that it was impossible for us to be kept apart for too long.

He felt as though the bones of his ribcage were snapping beneath the weight of the stone that God had laid over his heart.

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...

I don’t read other science fiction. I don’t read any at all.

Be who you were meant to be and not what you’ve allowed yourself to become,” Kate said to Mavis as she wavered over following her dream. from ‘Lifesong

That was when I saw their hate come out. They fought on the front lawn. Balloons and my birthday cake stood witness as I watched every regretful blow from my mother. I knew my sister...

He who writes books that aim to convince is a comedian, too, just a comedian. What has he got to offer others, apart from chains, still more chains? Fiction never liberated anyone. No one ever...

The first thing you lose when you die is your motor skills.

It gets kind of zen after awhile, life is a journey, time is a river, the door is ajar.

Schopenhauer wrote that to desire immortality is to desire the eternal perpetuation of a great mistake. He was correct.

My heart started racing, not the bad kind of heart racing, like I’m going to die. But the good kind of heart racing, like, Hello, can I help you with something? If not, please step...

But Pierre had been born with a shrewdness that made him early aware that a failure to believe that human events were ordered by a higher power was regarded by many in the highest positions...

Remember Whose You Are.

I have no inner life. I have no ‘intimate’ life. I am just what I-what to do. I move from one habitation to another like one of those-is it herit crabs? Taking up residence in...

The woman turns away; one wing blackens like an onyx gem while the other glows white like a bright spotlight. She flies into the sky, leaving the crowd staring in astonishment. Angels fly away in...

I felt a lot better; not being alone in being alone.

That the stars guide us, but do not compel us. It is our free will that determines the outcome of all things. God does impose his will on us, rather he makes it known and...

In real life I do violence, but for psychic stuff I do other things better.

We invent fictions in order to live somehow the many lives we would like to lead when we barely have one at our disposal.

A force de peindre la vie des autres, il avait oublié de peindre la sienne.”On ne se tue pas pour une femme (2000)

It’s a ballad, Alf, and to be honest, it’s one of the slowest songs I can think of. You’d have been better off doing a slow waltz to something with that tempo. The other factor...

Her heart was telling her to trust him, but it wouldn’t be the first time that that foolish muscle, there in the middle of her chest, had betrayed her.

We live in a world where there is such a clear definition of what a girl should be that it takes almost no effort at all to completely hate ourselves.

If you’re a ghost,” he said, “we mean you no disrespect. And if you’re not a ghost, tell me who you are-or you soon will be one

…we haven’t had any accidents for months now…Everything on that island is perfectly fine.

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