Quotes of All Topics . Occasions . Authors
Ice is for death and endings.
We are the total of our longings.
A hand fought best when it made a fist.
You'd never killed anyone. Then you had.
most hated by the dark, for their name is light.
We must be what we are, or we become our enemies.
You have to be afraid for it to count as bravery.
What mortal knew the way their fate line would run?
Irritation for some men was their response to strain.
Do you know the wish of your heart?" - The Darkest Road
Eanna love us, Adaon preserve us, Morian guard our souls.
By things so achingly small are lives measured and marred.
I will not say I am sorry, but I can tell you that I grieve.
She was owner and captive, both, of a bitterly divided heart.
One didn't stop to talk with creatures from one's nightmares.
But if you couldn't do everything, did that mean you did nothing?
Even if we remember the past, odds are good we'll still repeat it.
What man would dare believe that all he planned might come to pass?
Weariness, sometimes more than anything else, can bring an end to war.
Men made wagers with their judgment, their allegiances, their resources.
When I'm all grown up, come what may, I'll build a boat to carry me away
Everything you have ever heard about the strangeness of Hollywood is true!
Why did becoming accustomed to something have to render its pleasures stale.
There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk.
We salvage what we can, what truly matters to us, even at the gates of despair.
I grew up in a bookish family, so I read very widely. I was omnivorous, really.
Lazy poets try to elicit a reader's response with words designed to tug at the heart.
I've spent my whole literary career blurring boundaries between genres and categories.
I have always argued, in a good novel, interesting things happen to interesting people.
The heart has its own laws... and the truth is... the truth is that you are the law of mine.
How we remember changes how we have lived. Time runs both ways. We make stories of our lives.
As many have noted, the peril for authors is that our work space is too easily our play space.
There's a level at which, if you take poetry seriously, the focus it involves... that never goes away.
Writing is never, ever easy but I wake up every morning grateful for the gift of being able to do this.
I never talk about books in progress. I could decide to change it to a series of seafood recipes, after all.
In this world, where we find ourselves, we need compassion more than anything, I think, or we are all alone.
Words were power, words tried to change you, to shape bridges of longing that no one could ever really cross.
Sometimes you didn't really arrive at a conclusion about your life, you just discovered that you already had.
Liu Fang is a truly gifted, world-famous player of the pipa and the guzheng, classical Chinese stringed instruments.
The military preferred - invariably - those who could be readily defined, assigned roles, understood, and controlled.
It can be hard to write a skillfully entertaining fiction, but a great book wants to be more, and wants more from us.
... everyone knew that all islands were worlds unto themselves, that to come to an island was to come to another world.
The world could bring you poison in a jewelled cup, or surprising gifts. Sometimes you didn't know which of them it was.
The deeds of men, as footprints in the desert. Nothing under the circling moons is fated to last. Even the sun goes down.
It is always difficult, even with the best will in the world, to look back a long way and see anything resembling the truth.
After a while, you start to realize that you should write a book you would want to read. I try to write a book I would enjoy.
There was some sadness in how that could happen, falling out of love with something that had shaped you. Or even people who had.
It was different, though, knowing something in your thoughts and then hearing it confirmed, made real, planted in the world like a tree
Dave hung up. And unplugged the phone. With a fierce and bitter pain he stared at it, watching how, over and over again, it didn't ring.
I don't plan ahead; each book finds me. History itself, the resonance of the past with the present, is the common denominator in all of them.