Short Stories Quotes

Short Stories Quote of the day

A short story must have a single mood and every sentence must build towards it.

Write a short story every week. It's not possible to write 52 bad short stories in a row.

and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood.

A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong.

For me, the short story is not a character sketch, a mouse trap, an epiphany, a slice of suburban life. It is the flowering of a symbol center. It is a poem grafted onto sturdier stock.

A good [short story] would take me out of myself and then stuff me back in, outsized, now, and uneasy with the fit.

You create your own reality.

When well told, a story captured the subtle movement of change. If a novel was a map of a country, a story was the bright silver pin that marked the crossroads.

I watch people sometimes, wonder how they can walk around with the weight of what they know.

So many people can now write competent stories that the short story is in danger of dying of competence.

Homo-Americanus is going to go on speaking and writing the way he always has, no matter what dictionary he owns.

Now and then I am asked as to ‘what books a statesman should read, ’ and my answer is, poetry and novels – including short stories under the head of novels.

I live in a house over there on the Island, and in that house there is a man waiting for me. When he drove up at the door I drove out of the dock because he says I’m his ideal.

At least a hospital stay will give him an excuse to halt the job hunt.

Paoletta turned to him with a dark face.“You’d better watch out, Chase. He’s passed over to the evil side.

Just tell yourself they're only stories. Pamela K. Kinney (Spectre Nightmares and Visitations)

It’s a case of mistaken identity. It’s one big mistake. You weren’t even in the country when it happened.”Maja in the short story 'Metro' by Steen Langstrup

The day had begun like any other ordinary day for Barnabas Crackle. That is to say, as extra-ordinarily as his days typically began, which were the usual for our faithful protagonist.

He'd wanted to mend her just like his mother had mended his favorite teddy bear when his arm had come loose after too much play. He offered her his pudding cup instead.

I live in different worlds. One world where I perform my duty as a part of society. My favorite is my world. The writing's world.

Will Cato's alien buddies come en masse and invade Earth? He's not sure but he'll try to keep humanity in the loop.

Lost Cactus is a cornucopia of sights, sounds and inhabitants completely foreign to a little squirrel like Sammy, but attempting to set him straight will only complicate matters.

Ty is green but never with envy. Best of all, he's usually available to help move a heavy piece of furniture.

Bentley is a good bee with a shaky sense of direction and an appetite for mayhem. Just don't call him a drone. He hates that.

Lost Cactus is simply an urban myth.

Death, is a beautiful conclusion to these short stories, that which we have so interestingly entitled, lives.

Once when I asked you if you still loved your wife, you said, Love leaves the back door open. Later, you said, Love like a hospital gown opens at the back. And you slipped out.

You know, the world is all about balance. You lose something here... maybe somebody else picks it up over there.

I am content when writing short stories.

Though this child came in with nothing but excess baby fat, chemical brain waves, and mother and son bodily toxins on his legs, he had a fate fit for a modern day demigod.

You can take the barbarian out of the tavern, but he can take the blood out of your body.

It was as if my sould had left my body, floated up to the ceiling, and was watching me destroy my own career with one deliberately assaultive punch. (Dark City Lights)

I never sleep well when I'm on call.

What we are about to have here is a holy water smack down!

But I want to assure you, if it’s your last day on earth, even after 2, 000 years, I strongly suggest you go for the Versace leaf halter dress.

Remove the computer chipslodged in your brain before they convince youthat you’ve gone insane…Take a bite out of realityinstead of becominga reality byte.

Only criminals and madmen walk into Central Park after midnight...or, occasionally, an actor. (Dark City Lights)

This isn't where I intended to be. Killing a person has a funny way of getting your life off-track.

The cell door opened. My hands went to my eyes. Why was the door opened? I wasn’t dead yet. I think.

This isn't where I intended to be. Killing a person has a funny way of getting your life off-track. (Dark City Lights)

The dimple in his left cheek was ironic-it gave the impression that he was sweet as a cupcake. (Dark City Lights)

We skipped right over Walmart on the ladder down.

Flora went to the cinema every day that week. She saw the same movie each day, and wore the same dress.

Maybe the price of forgetting that even in America, even in New York City, when a man back home is talking, you better listen closely.

The city was a hive from this height, the people and the yellow cabs moving about in the street below like pre-programmed insects. (Dark City Lights)

I like to see you in a sari, with your long hair dressed in a single plait. Don't forget that I married a girl from India because I like my wife to be conservative and feminine.

I just want to always be here. In this place. Right here, right now.

That woman must have been a husky in a previous life.

All that sweetness makes me feel weird. My sister was never the loving type.

The dollar bills attached to her hips fluttered to the rug of the small square stage, like the first flakes of winter in the Bronx. (Dark City Lights)