Quotes About Story

funny how a beautiful song could tell such a sad story

And the rest is history,' I said. Nah.' He shook his head. 'The rest is now.

But it was too early to know: there were always more pages to go, more words to be written, before the story was over.

Funny how a beautiful song could tell such an ugly story.

But those words were only the middle of the story. There was a beginning here, too.

A life isn't just the pages you know, it's everything.

So much hanging on just these things, tiny increments that together build a life. Like words build a story, and what had Ted said? One word can change the entire world

There were so many places in my time with Rogerson that I wished I could go back to, hitting the stop button at just one moment to stop everything that came after. I had so many If Onlys, but each place I thought to stop meant missing something that came later. I needed it all, in the end, to make my own story find its finish.

It was the best kind of love story . . . until there was an ending to it.

Mais dans la vie, tout n'est pas parfait. Parfois, il faut se fabriquer sa propre histoire. Donner un petit coup de pouce au destin, tu comprends?

It was strange, telling the story from the beginning instead of catching someone up on only the latest awful chapter.

We had just heard that story recounted so many times over the years that it was easy to take the details and fold them into our own sparse memories.

But what really makes any story real is knowing someone will hear it and understand

Well, there are other versions of the story," I say, thinking out loud. "Besides the throwing and the kissing." "Like what?" Frederic asks. I bite my lip. This is going to be worse than the frog-legs conversation. "Well, there's the one where the princess chops off the frog's head, and then he turns into a prince," I say all in a rush. Frederic's eyes almost pop out of his head. "I do not wish to try that one.

Really?" I say. "Hmm. I guess it's possible that she's not home. It's not nighttime yet. The original story doesn't take place until tomorrow, so she might not even be around right now. She could be out luring children with bubble gum or something.

To me, every plaque, no matter what words are inscribed on it, says the same magic informative thing: Something happened! The gum cost a dollar, but the story was free.

That story is proof of the theorem that then as today in Chicago, the mysterious equation of whiskey plus music equals what can only be called happiness.

So, the moral of that story, other than never underestimate an independent bookseller, was that the Continental Army and its commander in chief had a soft spot for Chief Artillery Officer Henry Knox.

No one recorded what those marches were, though decades later there was an apocryphal and later-debunked story the one of the songs the British played was the on-the-nose The World Turned Upside Down.

I brought all this on myself by telling Ramona the story of my life – how I rose from humble origins to complete disaster. But a man who has made so many mistakes can't afford to ignore the corrections of his friends. Friends like Sandor, that humped rat. Or like Valentine, the moral megalomaniac and prophet in Israel. To all such, one is well advised to listen. Scolding is better than nothing. At least it's company.

I don't have bionic arms, and I have absolutely no stamina. Once I rubbed out the penciled-in marginalia of a hundred pages of a book that I wanted to photocopy (long story) and afterwards it felt like I'd been wanking off a giant for a hundred years.

Miss Rogers waved a hand. But Mr. Hearst just wants a dramatic story. If the rebels destroy us, he'll get no story at all! Aye, but has anyone explained that to the barking rebels? These are civilized rebels, young man. They have movie deals ! That's no guarantee of sanity!

Once you told yourself a story enough times, it was so easy to keep on believing it.

Once there was a girl named Riley, the story began. Her heart was a secret garden, its stone walls cracked and weathered. And it was hungry. p160