Quotes About Stories

That's what stories do. They connect the random dots of life into a picture. But it's all an illusion. Just try to connect the dots of life. You'll end up with a lunatic scribble. But

If the stories of our faith are such that you're too young to remember them, then you are not old enough to preach.

In stories, any number of imbeciles may be encountered, ready to deliberately insult strangers who are aiming deadly weapons at them. In real life, there are only a few folk so suicidally inclined.

Myths, legends and stories are the signposts previous generations have left us so we don't have to figure out our own personal journey in solitude! They have to be metaphorical, because their interpretation will be different for each individual life!

If we were all as wise as we should be, we would have no stories to tell

This is why people will never hear stories about Winston," Harvan complained. "He just held a master shapecrafter in suspension on her home turf, and he made it sound boring.

An unread book does nobody any good. Stories happen in the mind of a reader, not among symbols printed on a page.

People need stories, child. They bring us hope, and that hope is real. If that's the case, what does it matter whether people in them actually lived?

All stories told have been told before. We tell them to ourselves, as did all men who ever were. And all men who ever will be. The only things new are the names.

I don't have much time for stories," Vin said. "Seems that fewer and fewer people do, these days." A canopy kept off the ash, but he seemed unconcerned about the mists. "It makes me wonder what is so alluring about the real world that gives them all such a fetish for it. It's not a very nice place these days.

So, when people try to give you some book with a shiny round award on the cover, be kind and gracious, but tell them you don't read "fantasy," because you prefer stories that are real. Then come back here and continue your research on the cult of evil Librarians who secretly rule the world.

People need stories, child. They bring us hope, and that hope is real.

That's what war is," Cobb told me. "A bunch of sorry, desperate fools on both sides, just trying to stay alive. That's the part that those stories you love leave out, isn't it? It's always more convenient when you can fight a dragon. Something you don't have to worry you'll start caring about.

The part the stories leave out," Tress said as the Sorceress's runes formed into a vibrant wall, "is everything that comes before. You see, I've discovered that it's all right to need help. So long as you've lived your life as the kind of person who deserves to be rescued.

stories say something. About us, and about where we came from. They're a reminder that we have a past, a history. And a future.

I'm a collection of stories stuffed into a brain with no context, trying so very hard to simply keep going.

Some people assume that authors write books because we have vivid imaginations and want to share our vision. Other people assume that authors write because we are bursting with stories, and therefore must scribble those stories down in moments of creative propondidty. Both groups of people are completely wrong. Authors write books for one, and only one, reason: because we like to torture people.

Funny, isn't it, how so many of our stories start the same way, but have opposing endings? In half, the child ignores her parents, wanders out into the woods, and gets eaten. In the other half she discovers great wonders. There aren't many stories about the kids who say, 'Yes, I shall not go into the forest. I'm glad my parents explained that is where the monsters live.

Wit smiled. "All stories told have been told before. We tell them to ourselves, as did all men who ever were. And all men who ever will be. The only things new are the names.

Do you enjoy stories, young lady?" "What kind of stories?" "The best kind, of course," Slowswift said, tapping his book. "The kind about monsters and myths. Longtales, some call them—stories told by skaa around the fires, whispering of mistwraiths, sprites, and brollins and such.

Vin frowned. "You would gather stories about Kelsier?" "Of course," Sazed said. "I collect all religions." Vin snorted. "This is no religion we're talking about, Sazed. This is Kelsier." "I disagree. He is certainly a religious figure to the skaa." "But, we knew him," Vin said. "He was no prophet or god. He was just a man." "So many of them are, I think," Sazed said quietly.

People need stories, child. They bring us hope, and that hope is real. If that's the case, then what does it matter whether the people in them actually lived?

Tress looked toward Crow. And then, Tress took the singular step that separated her from people in most stories. The act, it might be said, that defined her as a hero. She did something so incredible, I can barley express its majesty. I should consider this more, Tress thought to herself, and not jump to conclusions.

When we deny our stories and disengage from tough emotions, they don't go away; instead, they own us, they define us.