Novel Reading Quotes Novels & Stories

‘You must come with me, loving me, to death; or else hate me, and still come with me. The words sent a chill down Roseanne's spine, prompting her to return the book to its place with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "What on earth were you possessed with, Nathan?" She knew that she should not judge him too soon. However, she could not control the urge to. She turned to Wuthering Heights, a book placed on the book shelve over his desk. She flipped through its pages while spotting several highlighted quotes. Each quote held a clue to Nathaniel's inner mind. It was a world she sought to unravel in order to understand him.

she sniffs. James´ brow furrows. "That´s a quote, isn´t it?" Her eyes slide up to his, "Yes Master, it is." He looks out of the window, scratching the bridge of his nose. "I know the reference, but for the life of me, I can´t think where from." She stares at him. "It´s from ´The Notebooks of Lazarus Long.´ taken from Heinlein´s ´Time Enough for Love´." He still looks puzzled. "That´s an old nineteen-seventies science fiction novel, isn´t it? I don´t think I´ve ever read it. Why would I know the quote?"

I had been successful every time at getting out of it. "Reading is good for you! It's so much fun too," he insisted as he picked a book from a shelf and took a seat beside me. "You just want me to become a nerd like you," I mumbled against the pillow. Now that I was lying on the bed, I grew more tired. It felt like the bed had sucked in all my energy and now, I didn't even feel like moving a finger. "With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?" he quoted someone and I flailed my arm until I successfully smacked him. "Ouch! Fine! No quotes!"

“You don’t exactly give off the warm and approachable vibe.” “That’s because I’m not warm,” he said flatly. “But I am human.” That made me pause. It was the first time he’d said it so directly. As if he needed me to hear it. To believe it. “Do you remember what you read here?” I asked softly. “Mostly old classics. Steinbeck. Hemingway. My mother was obsessed with making me ‘well-read.’” He made air quotes. “Said a man who could understand words could understand people.”

I knew it and yet… I looked at my desk where the most recent book I was reading was bookmarked. A modern fantastical adventure, it was more recent and a far cry from the constant classical texts I was used to burying myself in. Yet over the course of reading it, there came a lingering attachment to it. Without thinking I reached for it stopping at the page I'd bookmarked and traced over the page and the quoted dialogue I'd highlighted and run my gaze through tens of times already. ‘Do you understand, brother? You'll have me. No matter how thick the night, I will always be there to light your way.’

She cleared her throat, over-enunciating as though performing Shakespeare at the Globe Theatre. “Love isn’t patient, love isn’t kind… it’s fire, and it burns everything it touches.” She looked at me expectantly, starry-eyed. I wanted to slide under the table and melt into the floor. Was this real life? Was I being forced to quote my own tortured prose like a trained parrot? “Um.” My voice cracked. “Yes, that… that does sound like something I wrote.” “It is!” another boy shouted. “Page two seventy-three, right after the betrayal scene! I highlighted it!”

She placed the leather-bound book on her lap with reverence, brushing away the lingering dust with her trembling fingers. The book creaked open like it hadn’t been touched in years. Its pages were yellowed and fragile, but tucked between random paragraphs were faint markings—notes written in delicate, slanted handwriting. Leah’s heart thudded as she scanned the lines, searching for meaning. On the third chapter, Sofia’s voice came alive. “Nothing is ever truly what it seems. A beautiful prison is still a prison.” Leah’s brows furrowed. She flipped another page. More underlines, this time around a quote from the book’s protagonist:

History was not boring just as Camille wasn't rude, just a misunderstood pair. "Ready to go?" Camille asked, bringing her head only through the door. "Sure. Let me grab my things." They both exited the library together, making small talk. "So how was your reading?" Jacqueline coughed out a laugh. "Let's just say that I heard a very valuable lesson today." "What's that?" Camille was curious. "To never judge a book by its cover." Her words bore ambiguous meanings and they remained silent for a while, pondering.

'Not everything in the Mafia is illegal. And not everything can be settled with blood and money....' That was the first line, a brown cover book said. A sly grunt like a silly laugh escaped my lips as I read the malicious lines, most writers were perfect at preaching fallacies. Boring. Hypocrite. I'm not sure the perfect word to describe what those phrases actually meant. I read the lines again, somewhere in my head, my eyes studying the calligraphy on paper. I frowned. Stupid quote. My hands touched the words, and I tore out the page. Rumpling it and tusking it into the waste bin by the door.

She asked motioning to the line I had offered as she turned to face me. "That love is beautiful, no matter who or what you love," I replied softly looking at the dirt trail before me, since the people in this town travelled by carriages, there weren't any roads to- "There are a lot of those in the book, just one line across the page with no context," "That's because I had that book made, I took my favourite quotes and placed them together," I confessed "So what's the story behind your quote?" She asked and I smiled nervously as I glanced over to her clearing my throat before saying.