Short Stories Quotes

Yes?’ he asked, looking at me over the sheet.‘I’m a writer temporarily down on my inspirations.’‘Oh, a writer, eh?’‘Yes.’‘Are you sure?’‘No, I’m not.’‘What do you write?’‘Short stories mostly. And I’m halfway through a novel.’‘A novel, eh?’‘Yes.’‘What’s the name of it?’‘”The Leaky Faucet of My Doom.”‘‘Oh, I like that. What’s it about?’‘Everything.’‘Everything? You mean, for instance, it’s about cancer?’‘Yes.’‘How about my wife?’‘She’s in there too.

Charles Bukowski

Short stories are often treated as the poor cousins of novels.

Christopher Bram

Now and then I am asked as to ‘what books a statesman should read,’ and my answer is, poetry and novels – including short stories under the head of novels.

Theodore Roosevelt

I think it is the art of the glimpse. If the novel is like an intricate Renaissance painting, the short story is an impressionist painting. It should be an explosion of truth. Its strength lies in what it leaves out just as much as what it puts in, if not more. It is concerned with the total exclusion of meaninglessness. Life, on the other hand, is meaningless most of the time. The novel imitates life, where the short story is bony, and cannot wander. It is essential art.

The hurts from my last day with my father are healed now, but I want to remember where they were; I want to remember what I escaped for as long as I live.

Fuck your honour, Kaisheen. You are the smartest man I know, yet you had me travel three days during winter to have my counsel. Are you making a move on the Emperor? If you are, you’ll have my full support and the backing of the Monasteries.

Paul W.S. Bowler

The cell door opened. My hands went to my eyes. Why was the door opened? I wasn’t dead yet. I think.

Paul W.S. Bowler

Davey Boy's Dead was given a new lease on life when doctors transplanted the Dynamite Kidney into his body. That new lease on life came to a sudden and rather hilarious end when the Dynamite Kidney exploded and tore a hole in Davey Boy's side. - The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Zombies

Maybe the price of forgetting that even in America, even in New York City, when a man back home is talking, you better listen closely.

Brian Koppelman

Maybe the price of forgetting that even in America, even in New York City, when a man from back home is talking, you better listen closely. (Dark City Lights)

Brian Koppelman

A New York plate that said you die. (Dark City Lights)

Ed Park

The city was a hive from this height, the people and the yellow cabs moving about in the street below like pre-programmed insects. (Dark City Lights)

I like to see you in a sari, with your long hair dressed in a single plait. Don't forget that I married a girl from India because I like my wife to be conservative and feminine.

She had been waiting for someone to notice her, like, really notice her. She felt that that was the key, that she would go from the duck to the swan the minute someone recognized her potential. And they would look into her like they were trying to pierce her eyes with theirs, like they were trying to make her heart stop, and the whole world would become background noise and she would take her first breath after all of these years of nothing but existing. It would be like a coronation, or a star exploding, and then she would be born. She would be alive, and she would be loved.

Rose Fall

You were just a young girl not wanting to let on that death could happen to one who hadn't even lived yet.

Katherine Sloan

Flora went to the cinema every day that week. She saw the same movie each day, and wore the same dress.

I just want to always be here. In this place. Right here, right now.

Xingyue Sarah He

Just like life, it was over much too soon. And just like life, there weren't any answers. But like that one-in-an-eight-million great New York moment, I didn't need one. (Dark City Lights)

Peter Carlaftes

It may well be that there will be this socialism, Juliana,’ she said, ‘but I can tell you right now that no amount of socialism will make my madam was her own underwear.’ - ‘Aunt Juliana’s Indian

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.

The dollar bills attached to her hips fluttered to the rug of the small square stage, like the first flakes of winter in the Bronx. (Dark City Lights)

I’ll give you one chance to run,but may your shoulder always whisper in your ear…“It’s best to watch out for men, like me.

She had a new secret, the strenght of the moon, looking at her

Dunce is completely bald and has a really pointed head so the temptation to get him paralytic on his thirtieth birthday, carry him to the tattooist’s and get a nice big ‘D’ smack bang in the middle of his forehead was too much for me. Trouble is he can’t afford to have it removed so he wears a big plaster over it. Gangs of children tease him.‘What’s underneath the plaster, mister? Show us!’They swear he has a third eye under there. My name is Bill but Dunce calls me ‘Fez’ on account of my hat. I’ve known Dunce for over sixteen years.

The time groaned by as John made a fool of himself. Eventually, he grew numb to the death and sin around him. He even came to enjoy gallivanting cross-country like a true crusader. His name brought tears of joy or pain of anger to those he left in his wake. The result of his own unresolved pain.

All that sweetness makes me feel weird. My sister was never the loving type.

A shrink and a patient in a love-hate relationship. Who is REALLY the boss?

I read your diary. I KNOW

You are in love with my husband. You need some acting lessons to learn to hide it better.

That woman must have been a husky in a previous life.

There's comfort in a life lived in circles and its careful, sloping lines.

I worked all day in back ofa hot van snipping off dog balls, I can cut one more pair. (Dark City Lights)

Sometimes I wonder which is worse: To have to kill because it is your job, or to have no remorse for all the murderous things you have done?

Sometimes I wonder which is worse: "To have to kill because it is your job, or to have no remorse for all the murderous things you have done?

A short story is a sprint, a novel is a marathon. Sprinters have seconds to get from here to there and then they are finished. Marathoners have to carefully pace themselves so that they don't run out of energy (or in the case of the novelist-- ideas) because they have so far to run. To mix the metaphor, writing a short story is like having a short intense affair, whereas writing a novel is like a long rich marriage.

Jonathan Carroll

A shrink and a patient switching places. Who is REALLY the boss?

A short story I have written long ago would barge into my house in the middle of the night, shake me awake and shout, 'Hey,this is no time for sleeping! You can't forget me, there's still more to write!' Impelled by that voice, I would find myself writing a novel. In this sense, too, my short stories and novels connect inside me in a very natural, organic way.

Haruki Murakami

She would keep playing the role of the winner as long as the audience believed her.

You need to take some acting classes to learn to hide your huge crush on my husband better

Are you on crack? Or did I take a righteous bong hit before coming here?

Just forget for a minute that you have spectacles on your nose and autumn in your heart. Stop being tough at your desk and stammering with timidity in the presence of people. Imagine for one second that you raise hell in public and stammer on paper. You’re a tiger, a lion, a cat. You spend a night with a Russian woman and leave her satisfied. You’re twenty five. If rings had been fastened to the earth and sky, you’d have seized them and pulled the sky down to earth

I read your diary. I KNOW.

The only man she ever loved. And hated.

You create your own reality.

Seth

I want to spank you, but also want to know you want it. I need to hear it sweetheart, tell me you deserve it…

Felicity Brandon

As though you read my mind, you steady my headbetween your hands and eye me intensely. Then yourmouth is on mine, hungry and aggressive. Your teethskim my lips, claiming me and I feel your tongue probinginside of my mouth. The kiss ends as dramatically as itbegan, leaving me reeling and wanting more.

Felicity Brandon

Turn around.”Only two words, but they deliver such a sensual threat.I do as you ask without question. You are right behind me, breathing hard into the small of my neck, where I like to be kissed.

Felicity Brandon

You raise one eyebrow and regardme with another intense stare. “Start by stripping pleaseJenna.”I hear what you say and yet on some level I can’t quite process it.“Strip?” I ask, as though I don’t understand your demand.“Yes, strip. Take off all of your clothes. I want to see you naked. Now please.”I feel dazed, yet I let my jacket fall to the floor, and start work on my shirt buttons. Your eyes never leave me.I can feel them mining into me whilst I tackle the third button. Why is this so weird? You’re my husband afterall. You’ve seen me undress and naked countless times.Yet this is different. I am not just undressing, I am stripping. It’s not my decision; it’s at your command. You are not just Oliver now; you’re my Husband – some dominant entity now in charge. For some strange reason, I am finding it really hot! The look in your eyes is not just appreciative; it’s carnal. Waves begin to rise in my pool of desire.

Felicity Brandon

That’s enough naughty girl,” you say in a mocking tone, “I am going to put you over my knee and spank you for being such a bad wife tonight. It will hurt, but you’re going to enjoy it a lot more than you’ll admit…

Felicity Brandon

The measure of a man, or a woman for that matter, is not so much how much they have done, but what they have overcome to do what they have done. My favorite poets have said:"Do not go gentle into that good night!"-Dylan Thomas"...fill the unforgiving minute with sixty seconds worth of distance ran..."-Rudyard Kipling

MR Leif N Gregersen II

He didn't give a shit if Shakespeare didn't have glitter back in his day.

Tiffany Ferentini

Everyone loves a goddamned trainwreck, after all.

Cigarette smoke when i didn't ask for it. Never when I did.

Ifra Asad

Only criminals and madmen walk into Central Park after midnight...or, occasionally, an actor. (Dark City Lights)

This isn't where I intended to be. Killing a person has a funny way of getting your life off-track.

This isn't where I intended to be. Killing a person has a funny way of getting your life off-track. (Dark City Lights)

The dimple in his left cheek was ironic-it gave the impression that he was sweet as a cupcake. (Dark City Lights)

We skipped right over Walmart on the ladder down.

At least a hospital stay will give him an excuse to halt the job hunt.

Stephanie Bramson

The train hit her with the sound of a meat-filled hefty bag smacking the pavement, and the effect was much the same, I guess. (Dark City Lights)

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