I hate stories in which a person has an occupation and you never see him working at it, like all those marvelous Cary Grant movies where he's a surgeon, and you never see him in the operating room.
I like people who tell stories. I like storytellers. A lot of my songs are misconceived as being auto-biographical when they're not because I write in the first person.
That's the worst way you can hear about comedy material: from a third person's blog story that they wrote when they were upset.
I do not concern myself with my inability to feel such comfort amidst humans (other than with very few friends and family), but, rather, am simply thankful that at least dogs exist, and I’m humbly aware of how much less a person I’d be – how le...
I believe the love shared between two people shouldn’t be secretly shared with a third. Not even if I am vacationing on the moon, and that third person is my clone.
I could name my penis Steve, and it would be appropriate, as it is sort of shaped like my dad’s face, whose name is Steve. Not just his face, but his whole body and person is named Steve. And he’s a dick.
A customer facing crucial decisions: What should I wipe myself with? What should I brush with? His personal hygiene was deteriorating rapidly as he stared at the rows of possibilities, sweating profusely. Would he ever bathe again?
I left my phone number on a napkin, along with trace amounts of spaghetti sauce and garlic bread grease, hoping she’d call me. And when she didn’t, I panicked and filed a missing person’s report with the police.
How do you end a story that’s not yours? Add another sentence where there is a pause? Infiltrate the story with a comma when really there should have been a period? Punctuate with an exclamation point where a period would have sufficed? What if you...
I said that I have finished telling my story, not that the story is finished. I said before that no story is ever really finished, each one is part of a longer story and consists of smaller stories, some of which are told, others passed over in silen...
Forests to the [early] Northern European peoples were dangerous and generous, domestic and wild, beautiful and terrible. And the forests were the terrain out of which fairy stories, one of our earliest and most vital cultural forms, evolved. The myst...
When I was a little girl,' I said, sitting down, 'the wallpaper in my room had pictures of Noah's story.' [...] You know what's weird though? It's weird that the ark would be such a kids' story, you know? I mean, it's...really a story about death. Ev...
Accepting a psychiatric diagnosis is like a religious conversion. It's an adjustment in cosmology, with all its accompanying high priests, sacred texts, and stories of religion. And I am, for better or worse, an instant convert.
You don't understand, you fool' says Yegor, looking dreamily up at the sky. 'You've never understood what kind of person I am, nor will you in a million years... You just think I'm a mad person who has thrown his life away... Once the free spirit has...
Advice of all kinds from experienced marathoners can sweep you away. Your training, reading and racing will expand your network and everyone has a story – the best shoes, clothes, energy foods. Don’t second-guess yourself or your process. Be frie...
We must tell stories the way God does, stories in which a sister must float her little brother on a river with nothing but a basket between him and the crocodiles. Stories in which a king is a coward, and a shepherd boy steps forward to face the gian...
If the characters are not wicked, the book is." We must tell stories the way God does, stories in which a sister must float her little brother on a river with nothing but a basket between him and the crocodiles. Stories in which a king is a coward, a...
That's the thing with handmade items. They still have the person's mark on them, and when you hold them, you feel less alone.
You are a story worthy of being told, A person made to be loved, With a life meant to be lived.
What is it like to wear another person’s skin?” “I don’t have a good answer for that,” I said. “It hurts.” “Can you remember their stories? Can you feel the love that they felt?
A city isn’t so unlike a person. They both have the marks to show they have many stories to tell. They see many faces. They tear things down and make new again.
