Go Quotes (page 420)
-
-
-
Everyone wants their kid to grow up and go to Harvard or be a
quarterback for the Patriots. No one ever looks at their baby and thinks, Oh, I hope my kid grows up
and becomes a freak. I hope he gets to school every day and prays he won’t catch anyone’s
attention. But you know what? Kids grow up like that every single day.
Jodi Picoult
fiction writing is like duck hunting. You go to the right place at the right time with the right dog. You get into the water before dawn, wearing a little protective gear, then you stand behind some reeds and wait for the story to present itself...You choose the place and the day. You pick the gun and the dog. You have the desire to blow the duck apart for reasons that are entirely your own. But you have to be willing to accept not what you wanted to have happen, but what happens... By...
Ann Patchett
You mean you're going to send the same form letter to the Great Pumpkin, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny?"
"Why not? These guys get so much mail they can't possibly tell the difference... I bet they don't even read the letters themselves! How could they?! The trouble with you, Charlie Brown, is you don't understand how these big organizations work!
Charles M. Schulz
Bella." He strocked my face anxiously. "I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here as long as you need me."Do you swear you won't leave me?" I whispered. I tried to control the gasping, at least. My ribs were throbbing. He put his hands on either side of my face and brought his face close to mine. His eyes were wide and serious. "I swear.
Stephenie Meyer
There is no one there to see it. The world is doing what it always does, demonstrating itself to itself. The world has no interest in the little figures that come and go, the phantoms that worry and worship, that rake the graveled paths and erect the occasional rock garden, the bronze boy-man, the hammered cup for snow to fall into.
Michael Cunningham
One writes not to be read but to breathe...one writes to think, to pray, to analyze. One writes to clear one's mind, to dissipate one's fears, to face one's doubts, to look at one's mistakes--in order to retrieve them. One writes to capture and crystallize one's joy, but also to disperse one's gloom. Like prayer--you go to it in sorrow more than joy, for help, a road back to 'grace'."
Anne Morrow Lindbergh
In the country, spring is a time of small happenings happening quietly, hyacinth shoots thrusting in a garden, willows burning with a sudden frosty fire of green, lengthening afternoons of long flowing dusk, and midnight rain opening lilac; but in the city there is the fanfare of organ-grinders, and odors, undiluted by winter wind, clog the air; windows long closed go up, and conversation, drifting beyond a room, collides with the jangle of a peddler's bell.
Truman Capote