Why do you want to become an author? I will accept only one answer. If it is because you feel you can write better than you can do anything else then go ahead and do it without frills and flourishes. Stick to your present job and write in your spare ...
Nick spoke for the first time. "Can I go to the nurse's office too?" Ms. Popplewell looked at him It obviously took her only one look to decide. "No." "I'm traumatized too," Nick claimed, his voice completely flat. "He's a delicate flower," Alan said...
Koschei the Deathless made a face as he tasted the wine. "It is far too sweet. Comrade Stalin fears bitterness and has the tastes of a spoiled princess. I savor bitterness--it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived. You...
Are you still doing that crap?" I ask. "You can't even do it properly," Eileen says. "Just a matter of practice," Simone says. "Wow! Practicing how to poison yourself and make your breath reek like the fart of a seagull!" Eileen cries.
How does it happen that a writer who's not even very good - and I can say that, I've read four or five of his books - gets to be in charge of the world's destiny? Or of the entire universe's?" If he's not very good, why didn't you stop at one?" Mrs. ...
At the moment, it's simply a difference of opinon between the Doctor and you.. You both want the best. You've only tried to kill him a couple of times... I mean, don't worry about that. I've seen people do much worse to him and at the end of the day ...
Rory stood up with some difficulty, the chair still tied to him. He leaned over me [Maria] and managed to pull my ropes free. Then he turned to Dr Bloom. 'We're escaping,' he said. 'Goodbye.' Chair still tied to his back, he ran with me from the room...
One longs and longs to be grown up, doesn't one?," she said, "I dreamed of being eighteen and having a Season and meeting handsome gentlemen even apart from Dominic and falling in love with them and marrying him and living happily ever after. But lif...
Elizabeth disliked the tragic, martyred image of Virginia Woolf which grew up after her death. When she read the first volume of William Plomer's autobiography, At Home, in 1958, she told him that ‘only you seem to bring back Virginia's laughter - ...
She took the posters downtown that afternoon. She filled a rolling suitcase with them ... she took a stapler. And a box of staples. And hope. I think of those things. The paper, the stapler, the staples, the tape, the hope. It makes me sick. Physical...
There were so many things Sebastian and I had to work out: we'd both been single for so long that blending our lives together wasn't going to be easy. I'd promised Sebastian we'd find a way. He deserved to be loved for everything he was. And for what...
My head seems to be rumbling. Then I realize it’s the sky. It’s thunder. Suddenly, warm raindrops fall on us, spraying us until we’re completely wet. Raffe ignores it and continues to kiss me. We hold each other, pressing tighter and harder tog...
The conflicting missions of the two armies seemed to have no fog, no gray, only black-and-white clarity. I had lived my life in terms of compromise, rule-bending, trade-offs, concessions, bargaining, striking deals, finding middle ground. In these tw...
I learned to separate the story from the writing, probably the most important thing that any storyteller has to learn— that there are a thousand right ways to tell a story, and ten million wrong ones, and you’re a lot more likely to find one of t...
It would never have crossed her mind spontaneously that somebody might actually need silence. That silence helps you to go inward, that anyone who is interested in something more than just life outside actually needs silence: this, I think, is not so...
I’ve got hair in my mouth, because I replaced my teeth with my cat. This makes it more fun to pet my gums.
Respect doesn’t have to be shiny. It just needs to be wearable. Would you be so kind as to hold my jockstrap while I stir your hot coffee?
I refuse to dispense chewable advice for free. I’m not a bubblegum machine. No, my fees are 25 cents higher.
I admire the Stanley Cup. I’ll bet winning it could provide enough clean water for half of Africa (the middle half).
I was seen spotted with an older woman and a girl half my height in age. A leopard was also spotted.
My dreams and ambitions kept me company on the way there, and despair and regret were passengers on my return trip. I should have ridden a horse and not bothered with all that.
