Novel Reading Quotes Novels & Stories

“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.”

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!”

Author's Note. * One man may be the difference between victory and defeat ---- a quote from the movie, Mulan. * **** Goodbye's hurt. But, we just have to say it. It hurts to say goodbye to my dearest novel after about 15months of writing... The book has somehow taken up a special place in my heart and soul... It was my favorite companion... My best friend... Sister... Just name it... Thanks dearest readers for staying with me to the end...

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.

My fingertips touched the worn covers, the yellowed pages, the notes he had written in the margins in his slanted handwriting. “Love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs.” Romeo and Juliet. I opened the book exactly to the page of the quote, as if my hands knew the way. I knew that passage by heart. How many times had we read it together, lying in bed, his head in my lap while I recited Shakespeare and he closed his eyes, a smile on his lips? “Ma’am?” One of the men approached, his voice hesitant. He was young, maybe twenty-something, and looked at me with a mixture of pity and discomfort. “Are you all right?”

From a young age, I have always dreamed of writing a book that people all over the world would want to read. I once heard someone say, "If you are a writer and people don’t read your books, then you have written a journal." This quote stuck with me and made me realize that the real goal of writing is to create something that others want to read and enjoy.

I heared my phone beep and I looked to see a notification from Racheal, it was a photo and I clicked it open to see her and a guy on bed together and I shook my head, knowing fully well what she was up to. I grabbed my novel as I began to read from where I stopped while waiting for Vicenzo to finish up his meal. "I prayed for death but everytime I closed my eyes, I woke up to see the dawn of a new day and that was when I realised death wasn't coming to me anytime soon because I was destined for greater things" I heared Vicenzo say and I glanced up at him and looked at the novel in my hands once again as it clicked in my head "Those words you just spewed out are from the novel I'm reading" I