Quotes About Author

as well as 10,000 traffic fatalities a year caused by drinking.

Jane clutched her mug like a talisman of reality; then suddenly jumped so hard that she spilt half the cocoa on the window-sill.

I had been right, this was just the sort of place where superstition and tittle-tattle were rife, and even allowed to hold sway over commonsense. Now

At last it occurred to me that I could not continue to sit at my desk, drink whisky and shudder at the thought of the Fordites.

Much as I usually dislike nice, positive people, I have to admit that Margaret isn't bad.

It's been a pretty tough day, he said. No sense making it worse with a salad.

The big barbarian called sexual assault training?

I like that you're emotionally broken, she said cheerfully. It keeps the playing field level. I'm not broken. I'm quirky. Is that what we're calling it?

do that to a future hero?" She

She'd been so hopeful that people would forget her.

Dear God. Brad the Dragon. I swear, if I ever meet that author, I'm going to strangle him with a Brad the Dragon stuffed animal, wrap him in a Brad the Dragon blanket and throw his body out to sea.

Yet there was something about Phoebe Kitzke. An innocence, maybe. No, that wasn't right. It was how she seemed trusting. More fool her. Or maybe him.

She decided she would find out all she could about Bettina then kill off a character just like her in her next book. The death would be grisly, she promised herself. Slow and painful.

Robert was a typical guy. He had trouble simply listening and mostly wanted to fix the problem.

the tourists and make a bomb.

Religion is probably, after sex, the second oldest resource which human beings have available to them for blowing their mind.

Gide and I have attained such perfect intellectual communion that I experience the appropriate labor pains for every thought he gives birth to!

The problems of this world are only truly solved in two ways: by extinction or by duplication

Only thing that counts are ideas. Behind ideas are [moral] principles. Either one is serious or one is not. Must be prepared to make sacrifices. I'm not a liberal.

To name a sensibility, to draw its contours and to recount its history, requires a deep sympathy modified by revulsion.

Walking onto his terrace those first months to see in the distance the well-behaved mountain sitting under the sun might provoke a reverie about the calm that follows catastrophe.

Denying that art is mere expression, the later myth rather relates art to the mind's need or capacity for self-estrangement.

Paint a self-portrait, for our parlor. I want to see that one eyebrow permanently arched, permanently skeptical—the look of someone who doesn't suffer prudes easily.

Gale winds of emotion shuddered through her in unending waves.