Well written novels are penned by authors who have a unique and personal ardor for their story. They fabricate the phrases of their mind into a voice and thus a character is born.

Their story, yours, mine – it’s what we all carry with us on this trip we take, and we owe it to each other to respect our stories and learn from them.

Fossils have richer stories to tell – about the lub-dub of dinosaur life – than we have been willing to listen to.

We have story-makers and we have writers apparently most of the today’s writing falls into the first category.

To maintain your honesty , one must know to keep alive the spirit of chidhood

True stories can’t be told forward, only backward. We invent them from the vantage point of an ever-changing present and tell ourselves how they unfolded.

I’ve always believed in working hard, and I’m grateful that people seem to connect with the kinds of stories I’m passionate about telling.

That’s what heroic stories do for us. They show us the way. They remind us of the good we are capable of.

A well told story can be magic. Let me show you…

Be true to the writer within you; tell the story you’re dying to tell in exactly the way you wish to tell it, and don’t trust anyone who tries to sway you otherwise.

This is how deeply rooted stories are, folks. We crave them before we can walk, and we start telling them before we can talk.

During an especially noisy elementary school assembly I witnessed a common marvel. Someone spoke,”Once upon a time…” into the mic, and the room hushed. Such magic never ceases to amaze me.

Stories don’t always have happy endings.”This stopped him. Because they didn’t, did they? That’s one thing the monster had definitely taught him. Stories were wild, wild animals and went off in directions you couldn’t expect.

I love words. I crave descriptions that overwhelm my imagination with vivid detail. I dwell on phrases that make my heart thrum. I cherish expressions that pierce my emotions and force the tears to spill over. In essence, I long for a writer’s soul sealed in ink on the page.

Stories are the wildest things of all. Stories chase and bite and hunt.

Labels bias our perceptions, thinking, and behavior. A label or story can either separate us from, or connect us to, nature. For our health and happiness, we must critically evaluate our labels and stories by their effects.

A closed book will lie there like a dead horse. But an open book will kick, buck, and bolt through perceived adventures like a wild and free stallion. So hold on.

Most stories are not about peoplebut about life, an addiction like the rest of themthat destroys you even as you love it,but you love it anyway and can never get enough.

Stories, like conjuring tricks, are invented because history is inadequate for our dreams.

What I’m going to do up here, kid, is tell you a story. Like all stories, it’s an attempt to make sense of something larger than itself. And, like most stories, it fails, to a certain degree. It’s a gloss, a rendition, so it’s not exact. But it’ll do. -Silenus

Grace will meet you in the valley, and her song will carry you home on the wind to another sky filled with ethereal beauty unfolding and love everlasting.

All my stories are webs of style and none seems at first blush to contain much kinetic matter. For me style is matter.

Supposing an emperor was persuaded to wear a new suit of clothes whose material was so fine that, to the common eye, the clothes weren’t there. And suppose a little boy pointed out this fact in a loud, clear voice…Then you have The Story of the Emperor Who Had No Clothes.But if you knew a...

oThere’s no way to really preserve a person when they’ve gone and that’s because whatever you write down it’s not the truth, it’s just a story. Stories are all we’re ever left with in our head or on paper: clever narratives put together from selected facts, legends, well edited tall tales with us in the...

There’s no way to really preserve a person when they’ve gone and that’s because whatever you write down it’s not the truth, it’s just a story. Stories are all we’re ever left with in our head or on paper: clever narratives put together from selected facts, legends, well edited tall tales with us in the...

There are subtle truths buried in every make-believe. You never know where you might find one.

Live as if they’re going to tell stories about you.

I’ll tell you a secret.Old storytellers never die.They disappear into their own story.

There is only Love — and Stories. All else is but a shadow dream.

The world is shaped by two things — stories told and the memories they leave behind.

I tell the story to you now, but in each telling the story itself changes a little, changes direction, and that in turn changes you and me. So be very careful not only in how you repeat it but in how you remember it, goslings. More often than you realize it, the world is shaped...

The one who pulls the puppet strings knows fairytales can heal.

God is going to send you someone that will rescue you. Then one day you will rescue them in return and together your story will rescue others. He has always been a God of rescues and a maker of warrior’s for his grace. You only need to believe that you are part of something greater...

It’s in our nature to want to watch our human frailties played out on a huge, epic canvas. Ancient societies had anthropomorphic gods: a huge pantheon expanding into centuries of dynastic drama: fathers and sons, star-crossed lovers, warring brothers, martyred heroes. Tales that taught us the danger of hubris and the primacy of humility. It’s...

To turn the tide of materialism in the Christian community, we desperately need bold models of kingdom-centered living. Despite our need to do it in a way that doesn’t glorify people, we must hear each other’s stories about giving or else our people will not learn to give.

He. Does there have to be a he? It seems weak and unoriginal doesn’t it, for stories told by girls to always have a he?

The world of religion isn’t a logical world; that’s why children like it. It’s a world of worked-out fantasies, very similar to children’s stories or fairy tales.

Books have a vital place in our culture. They are the source of ideas, of stories that engage and stretch the imagination and most importantly, inspire.

The vigor I lacked for physical activities became incandescent when, pen in hand, I filled those pages with invented stories. Sometimes they were intimately about me – family tales, parental exploits – sometimes they became horrific stories sprinkled with torture, death, and reunion: crazy games and tear-soaked sagas.

As a novelist it is my job to tell stories that inspire and entertain but I am increasingly mindful that many of these historical tales (which of themselves are fascinating) relate directly to our issues in society today.

The lively oral storytelling scene in Scots and Gaelic spills over into the majority English-speaking culture, imbuing it with a strong sense of narrative drive that is essential to the modern novel, screenplay and even non-fiction.

For me, writing stories set, well, wherever they’re best set, is a form of cultural curiosity that is uniquely Scottish – we’re famous for travelling in search of adventure.

Without archives many stories of real people would be lost, and along with those stories, vital clues that allow us to reflect and interpret our lives today.

I’ve been obsessed with stories since I was a kid so it’s no surprise that I ended up writing for a living.

Our business is communication oftentimes through the medium of stories but our capacity has a far greater scope – to entertain certainly, but also to stimulate debate, to mark up changes and differences and that way, to maybe, just now and then, to change the world.

One of Scotland’s most important cultural exports – stories.

Fairy tales are about trouble, about getting into and out of it, and trouble seems to be a necessary stage on the route to becoming. All the magic and glass mountains and pearls the size of houses and princesses beautiful as the day and talking birds and part-time serpents are distractions from the core of...

Or was Chris thinking, as I was, that if we went tothe police and told our story, our faces would be splashed on the frontpages of every newspaper in the country? Would the glare of publicitymake up for what we’d lose? Our privacy-our need to stay together?Could we lose each other just to get even?

That’s what fiction is for. It’s for getting at the truth when the truth isn’t sufficient for the truth.

The world isn’t just the way it is. It is how we understand it, no? And in understanding something, we bring something to it, no?Doesn’t that make life a story?