Quotes About Author

As I dial 9-1-1, I think: He's not nowhere. He's not dead. He just found that other world.

I am the best dancer ever. I am a superstar. The shoes are magic. My feet are magic. I am magic.

Libby Strout." His mouth and eyes are serious. I don't think I've ever seen him so serious. "You are wanted.

It is my job in life, apparently, to teach gawking, laughing girls lessons about kindness. If

I don't want to hear this. Whatever this is. I want to forget I've heard any of it. I want to reach inside my ears and grab the words and fling them at her.

the river, Ruald had two

The one thing Leonard won't tolerate is fancy prose. As he states in his 10 Rules of Writing: If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it.

If it sounds like writing, I rewrite it. Or, if proper usage gets in the way, it may have to go. I can't allow what we learned in English composition to disrupt the sound and rhythm of the narrative.

She liked to argue, especially with people who were serious about weird ideas they swore were true.

The colonel was maybe five seven and would go about a hundred and a half. One thing that could be said in favor of this deal, all the bad guys so far were little fuckers.

The truth is: criminals are a police problem; individuals accused of crime are mine.

It was a feeling Raylan had, so it didn't have to make sense. At least not right away. The thing to do was let his mind work on it while he wasn't looking.

The sinful heart is never transformed by conformity to the imperatives but only by relationship with the One who cleanses hearts.

But Saeed, Saeed, the children are our only hope!

a kind of breathing space in a Paris that was too small, too stuffy for the ambition in their breasts (65)

LA FAUTE DE L'ABBE MOURET' was, with respect to the date of publication, the fourth volume of M. Zola's 'Rougon-Macquart' series; but in the amended and final scheme of that great literary undertaking, it occupies the ninth place.

Nana was smiling still, but her smile was now bitter, as of a devourer of men.

Take my books away, and I should be desperate!

A perfect misanthropist's heaven: and Mr. Heathcliff and I are such a suitable pair to divide the desolation between us.

I know, by instinct, his reserve springs from an aversion to showy displays of feeling—to manifestations of mutual kindliness.

But no brutality disgusted her: I suppose she has an innate admiration for it, if only her precious person were secure from injury!

invariably to me, I know, and to any person who saw her, I should think--refuted more tangible proofs of convalescence, and stamped her as one doomed to decay.

Because you are not fit to go there,' I answered. 'All sinners would be miserable in heaven.

And would it not be foolish to mourn a calamity above twenty years beforehand?