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Fictional Quotes

Quotes tagged as "fictional" Showing 91-97 of 97
“Berhenti memilah antara apa yang diinginkan dan tidak, lalu stagnasi hanya karena anda berkeras atas sesuatu yang sebenarnya harus berubah. Berhenti juga menilai baik buruk dari apapun. Bahkan untuk itu anda hidup. Anda adalah pengamat dan penikmat. Bukan Hakim”
Dee Lestari, Supernova: Ksatria, Puteri, dan Bintang Jatuh

Atul Purohit
“Somewhere there's someone who dreams of your smile, and finds in your presence that life is worthwhile. So, when you are lonely remember it's true: somebody, somewhere is thinking of you.”
Atul Purohit, Love Vs Destiny. . .the strange game of life!

Scott McClanahan
“I never look at a painting and ask, "Is this painting fictional or non-fictional?" It's just a painting.”
Scott McClanahan, Crapalachia: A Biography of a Place

Nora Roberts
“Grayson: Fiction is just a lie anyway.

Brianna: But it's not - it's a different kind of truth - it would be your truth at the time of the writing, wouldn't it?”
Nora Roberts, Born in Ice

Atul Purohit
“I'm gonna sit around here, stay away from there I'm gonna make pretend I just don't care. I could get up, go get her back or maybe I'll just let her go.

Something beyond Love...
lines from Love Vs Destiny...”
Atul Purohit

“Now, years later, he had been commissioned to fashion pictures with sugar water and dyes, a holiday mural. He had risen into something he could do, he had been recognized, and those years spent enduring his father's impatience seemed far away. He would do it for number 98,761,580, his love whose hand he held, cold as it was, who had lain beside him in the tunnels, in the filth. What had haunted him was the thought of her lovely body wasting away. It had torn at his eyes, his throat. It had taken away his faith.

He painted a band of sugar on the walls of the hotel, the mural reflecting the city back to itself - the deep green park, the holiday windows, lovers under golden angels, flowers spilling out of markets in December, a resurrected skyscraper, a choir of variegated faces singing in front of a red door of a dark church, the homeless - not swept away, not forgotten - their realities on their faces, hands, hair. It was not a Rockwell. There were a few artists, subcontractors, who kept trying to abscond with the project, to make it what it wasn't for the sake of something they likened to a good make-believe before bed.

-- 'A Potter's Field”
Meg Sefton, black shatter stories and fictions

“She was so plain. Would it kill you to wear skirts more, he had said to her. Would it really hurt you? He was thinking of how he would like to see her when she was alone with him. He knew she could dress when she had to, but this was what he was saying. He was saying something about their private life. He was saying something about his needs as a man.

He imagines America’s anger at this. It would be the women, mainly. Their eager faces had watched: Amelia boarding the plane for her first transatlantic flight; Amelia waving to the crowd in the ticker tape parade; Amelia leaving luncheons and concert halls. Some had been housewives and some, girls with dreams of loops and spins and dives, of hugging the curvature of the earth through a thin sheet of aluminum.

-- After Amelia”
Meg Sefton, black shatter stories and fictions

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