Literary Fiction Quotes

Darkness crept through. Shadows pried at doors, teased dull edges of recollections that never quite took hold. Memories that would have shriveled under the blinding sun of daylight. And reason.

All that is gold does not glitter.Not all those who wander are lost:The old that is strong does not wither.Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

All I want is to sleep--to dream. Life is better in dreams.

I am not an atheist preacher. I am not an absolutist or chauvinist whose ways are immune to evolution. My core philosophy is that I might be wrong.

The old law of an eye for an eye didn’t make them blind to the fact that another man’s terrorist wasn’t their freedom fighter.

Were the stars against him? A woman's fingers are quicker in the sky and shine more brightly.

Church words are easy to say, but they're not so easy to live by.

It's no such thing! she said. It's friendship! And if you're a man who can't tell friendship from charity, then you're to be pitied!

Sifting through scattered memories is like sifting through sand. Some remain, some simply slipaway…– TARA

I wonder if every girl yearns for her father’s love, almost like waiting to catch the moon hiding in the trees—beautiful, yet so eternally elusive.-MUKTA

It took me most of my childhood to realize that traditions have infinite power over us.-MUKTA

The emotion was the most important thing.

The world is indeed a cold, hard stone.

We put our flags in soil when we arrive, as if it now belongs to us and we know where we are.

Short story collections are the literary equivalent of canapés, tapas and mezze in the world of gastronomy: Delightful assortments of tasty morsels to whet the reader's appetite.

You know what people are doing on the other side of the world, what’s happening on another planet, but not what’s going on inside the person next to you.

I wouldn't dignify it with the name immoral.

But this bus was a bit too full. The driver only appeared to control the glass and metal around him. In reality, he was at the nose of a travelling paroxysm.

We just move on, don’t we, with traitors still amongst us? But there was one thought that wouldn’t go away. If I loved him, I would forgive him.

…he’d assumed their relationship would go on forever. It was going on now, but in another way, like the rearrangement of the stars, which were all still in the sky, just burning in unexpected places.

Olga was better, in the sun, where he could see every pore in her skin. Get closer. Feel her next to him. It was all he wanted in the world. It was the last thing in the world that he could do.

I don’t like coming over here at night, the girl said. The bayou is scary in the dark, all manner of things running wild out there.