Short Story Quotes

Like a driver who has lost control of his vechicle, I was bracing for the impending crash."From: "My Worst Valentine's Day.Ever: a Short Story

One day, I decided to be an island. I took off my clothes and walked into the sea, then floated there, bobbing along with the tide, suspended by my inflatable tube and water wings.

I remember clearly the afternoon that she stood at the corner beside the door of the tourist centre in Gdansk.

As the wind continued to howl and groan through her decaying body, she began to sing her story.

Rebecca woke up with her knees hurting and her fingers ice-cold, and the specifics of her life returned to her as the dream disappeared: weekend, hotel room, Baguio, memory, memory, memory.

Any moment now, I thought, he was going to wake up. Any moment.

Without pride, man becomes a parasite – and there are already too many parasites.

Shame comes in different doses.

It’s late and most of the clerks are at home in their beds, dreaming of swimming in pools filled with real money.

Don’t mock my suggestions, Ridley – one day in the near future, they might just save your life.” Maxwell D. Kalist.

Only men with intelligence, confidence and absolutely no empathy at all can progress upstairs.

Every time I so much as blink you get an erection.

To Kalist, Baumauer’s just a timber bridge in need of a good hot fire.

You are a more powerful person than you might have ever imagined.” Maxwell D. Kalist.

Are there not times, Ridley, when you yourself wish only to hear the best in people – and not to be dragged downwards into the underworld we all regularly inhabit?

Secrets are dangerous.” Gottfried Baumauer.

Sometimes I wonder which is worse: To have to kill because it is your job, or to have no remorse for all the murderous things you have done?

Sometimes I wonder which is worse: "To have to kill because it is your job, or to have no remorse for all the murderous things you have done?

She had a new secret, the strenght of the moon, looking at her

I wait, you play. You speak, I cave. I promise, you break. You game me, daily, you play me.

Be a good reader first, if you wish to become a good writer.

A writer gets to live yet another life every time she creates a new story.

Writing a story is like going on a date—you will spoil it if you aren't living in the moment.

Tell a story in lesser and simpler words.

Don’t break the rules when you haven’t fully figured them out yet.

Dreams are good at playing with your memory. They love leaving no trace behind and hate to show up once again in the morning.

The good writing ideas don’t have to be about political turmoil, mass killings, capitalism, racism, injustice, etc. Find that one idea that has deep roots in your heart.

Create a world in front of your readers where they can taste, smell, touch, hear, see, and move. Else they are likely going to move on to another book.

A writer can do without food for a few hours, but not without the sight of books.

Turn those deep feelings and obsessions of your heart into captivating pieces of literature.

Ideas either age like fine wine or rot like potatoes over time.

If you are a singer, you must sing. If you are a dancer, you must dance. If you are a writer, you must write. Don’t suffocate your heart.

As you become a better writer, the writing becomes more difficult. You toil harder to tell a story in a lesser number of words.

Don’t interrupt when your characters take a flight of their own.

Cliches are the viruses that infect your writing with diseases.

If you think there is no time to write now, there would never be.

If certain aspect needs to be inconsistent, it must better be consistently inconsistent throughout the story.

I’m mistaken….for thinking you were someone with a heart worth breaking.

It was 911 calling me. If you can believe it. Them calling me.

She knew there were only small joys in life--the big ones were too complicated to be joys when you got all through--and once you realized that, it took a lot of the pressure off.

It's unexpectedly painful to have become a pronoun.

But men are funny about their wars, they act as if they own them, and perhaps they do, for I don't think women ever start them.

A feeling, for which I have no name, has taken possession of my soul.

I knew a girl and she felt like art.Sometimes colorful, sometimes dull, Sometimes with bright, hopeful eyes, Sometimes only black and white, But she was always a piece of exquisite art.

She had an emptiness in her eyes like a ghost tired of haunting.

She was the curator of her marriage, collector of swift quotes and unremarked-upon sensations.

Fear is the short road to death and this world, Changed by the flux of decay: Survival is the exception for weary men.From the new book The Waning

Gerard turned away and ignored the cruelty of the meerkats, tore it from his mind. Lucretia needed a heart.

she should have told me that times slides away on a hillside of lose shale and takes everything in its path-dreams, opportunities, hopes. And youth. It takes that fastest of all.

Lim Oh Kee kills himself in the early hours on the 12th day of December, 1921. His last meal is rice and nothing.