Quotes On Fiction Novels & Stories

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?"

“A story or an art piece, sometimes both, becomes memorable when it lives past the ending; past the epilogue in the minds of its readers.” I stopped and blinked along with the professor. Where the hell did that come from? “Care to explain?” She crossed her arms, then leaned against her table. I shifted slightly in my shoes, then swallowed for the third time. “Most stories can end on paper, on print, or in the proofreader’s office.” I didn’t know when I found the courage to look at Genevieve. “Some stories don’t; the best stories are the ones that stay with you after the last line in the epilogue, in your favorite quotes. In the words that repeat themselves in your mind while you do the most

“No that’s not what I’m saying at all, I’m asking what you know about fiction?” “You mean if I want to free a character from a story, I have to follow the rules of fiction.” “And what rules usually apply to fictional rescues from Hell?” “Wait, you said she was trapped in a story, not Hell.” “Both Heaven and Hell are stories that we tell ourselves. They’re ways of coping with our mortality and what comes after.” “I suppose you’re right, that’s why we tell tales about descents into the underworld isn’t it?” “Yes it is.”

“What is this? I told you we just need a brief description. I didn’t ask you to make up some bullshit story.” “I added some colour-” “You didn’t add colour,” he interrupts the writer. “You wrote a whole fucking horror story. When did any of our children die? We didn’t pick up exploded elders in the forest. Everything we say needs to be believable. This is not.” “I’m sorry, your highness,” the woman says. “I write fiction, not-” “Do better next time,” Johnathan interrupts and shoves the folder back in her hands. “Who has the fact sheet about this man?”

"I mean, I can see that. But sometimes I wonder if we're just projecting our own feelings onto these stories." He smiled thoughtfully. "Perhaps. But isn't that the magic of literature? It reflects what we feel but can't always express. I was reading something by Faulkner the other day he once said that to write is to relive, and to relive is to transform. Maybe that's what we're meant to do with our own lives, too." I found myself nodding slowly, intrigued despite myself. "That's an interesting thought. I never really considered it that way."

Time seemed to be moving more slowly as we drew nearer to the water beneath us. 3. Winning my sixth grade spelling bee... I tried blocking out the excruciating pain screaming at me in my ear, every second we were plunging further and further down. 4. Art classes with Miss Miller... The blocking worked and I felt the contact with the water as our car fell in. 5. Bedtime stories with my grandmother... I jerked forward at the impact it created 6. Becoming class president in fourth grade... The impact was so strong I could feel my neck crack as it got jerked back.

“Especially when they’re built on truth.” A faint, condescending smile touched her lips. “Truth is such a malleable concept, don’t you find? Often confused with sentimentality and… well, fiction.” Her eyes locked with mine, a direct challenge. “I read your little blog post. A very moving story. A work of fiction, of course, but moving nonetheless.” I could feel Arthur tense beside me. The entire room was holding its breath. “It’s interesting you should mention fiction,” I said, not breaking eye contact. I gestured to the mosaic. “This phoenix, for example. It’s a powerful myth. Rising from the ashes. But it’s not the only powerful story about rising from ruin, is it?”

C H A P T E R 1 5 : O F F A N T A S Y A N D S U P E R N A T U R A L “Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.” Aldous Huxley, Complete Essays 2, 1926-29 ~

This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Any opinion expressed regarding any matter whatsoever are those of the characters and should not be confused or interpreted as the author's.

Well, a thumbs up aren't bad after all. Just know that in a world where troubles doesn't seem to end quickly, fictions can give us a rest ~~~ LOVE ABOVE STORIE. <3 <3 <3