Language for me narrates the pictures in my mind. When I work on designing livestock equipment I can test run that equipment in my head like 3-D virtual reality. In fact, when I was in college I used to think that everybody was able to do that.
The rules say that to tell a story you need first of all a measuring stick, a calendar, you have to calculate how much time has passed between you and the facts, the emotions to be narrated.
People have wanted to narrate since first we banged rocks together & wondered about fire. There’ll be tellings as long as there are any of us here, until the stars disappear one by one like turned-out lights.
It is the human habit to think in centuries from a grandparent to a grandchild because it just does take about a hundred years for things to cease to have the same meaning as they did before,
The narrator analyzes that the maturing, passing away boy within him, "had issued me a challenge as he passed the baton to the man in me: He had challenged me to have the courage to become a gentle, harmless man.
Memory is fiction . . . All memory is a way of reconstructing the past. . . The act of narrating a memory is the act of creating fiction. [Armitstead, Claire. “Damon Galgut talks about his novel In a Strange Room.” The Guardian. 10 September 2010...
Everyone these days is concerned so much with privacy and forgets the value of human touch. We still need each other but are scared of how it might sound or appear to the other.
…Man’s heart is a ditch full of blood. The loved ones who have died throw themselves down on the bank of this ditch to drink the blood and so come to life again; the dearer they are to you, the more of your blood they drink.” - The Narrator.
By definition, memoir demands a certain degree of introspection and self-disclosure: In order to fully engage a reader, the narrator has to make herself known, has to allow her own self-awareness to inform the events she describes.
Lorenzo: [narrating about Father Bobby] I told him about the torture, the beating and the rapes. I told him about four frightened boys who prayed to Father Bobby's God for help that never came. I told him everything.
[first lines] Narrator: One small fact: you are going to die. Despite every effort, no one lives forever. Sorry to be such a spoiler. My advice is when the time comes, don't panic. It doesn't seem to help.
Timothy Cavendish: [narrating] In the darkness, I suddenly saw the light. Blood has always trumped water. If the Hogginses brutes wanted to turn this into a family affair, they'd find the Cavendish clan more than ready for the task at hand.
Ralphie as Adult: [narrating about diving with his brother into the gifts under the Christmas tree] We plunged into the cornucopia quivering with desire and the ecstasy of unbridled avarice. Mr. Parker: Didn't I get a tie this year?
Ralphie as Adult: [narrating] I have since heard of people under extreme duress speaking in strange tongues. I became conscious that a steady torrent of obscenities and swearing of all kinds was pouring out of me as I screamed.
Ralphie as Adult: [narrating] Oh, life is like that. Sometimes, at the height of our revelries, when our joy is at it's zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkable disasters decend upon us.
Ralphie as Adult: [narrating] The heavenly aroma still hung in the house. But it was gone, all gone! No turkey! No turkey sandwiches! No turkey salad! No turkey gravy! Turkey Hash! Turkey a la King! Or gallons of turkey soup! Gone, ALL GONE!
[last lines] Narrator: Whether Grace left Dogville, or on the contrary Dogville had left her - and the world in general - is a question of a more artful nature that few would benefit from by asking, and even fewer by providing an answer. And nor inde...
Joel: [narration as Clementine acknowledges him by raising her coffee mug] Why do I fall in love with every woman I see who shows me the least bit of attention?
[to the Narrator who has just fired a warning shot into the window of an explosives filled van] Tyler Durden: WHOA! WHOA! WHOA! Ok, you are now firing a gun at your 'imaginary friend' near 400 GALLONS OF NITROGLYCERINE!
Marla Singer: ...Condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip one on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night... then you throw it away. The condom, I mean, not the stranger. Narrator: What?
Raoul Duke: [Beginning to narrate the "Jefferson Airplane" hallucination] There I was... [Seeing the actual Hunter S. Thompson sitting in the scene] Raoul Duke: Mother of God, there I am! Holy fuck...
