Pages Quotes (page 23)
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To get the right word in the right place is a rare achievement. To condense the diffused light of a page of thought into the luminous flash of a single sentence, is worthy to rank as a prize composition just by itself...Anybody can have ideas--the difficulty is to express them without squandering a quire of paper on an idea that ought to be reduced to one glittering paragraph.
Mark Twain
I could not give up either of these worlds, neither the book I am holding nor the gleaming forest, though I have told you almost nothing of what is said here on these grim pages, from the sentences of which I’ve conjured images of a bleak site years ago. Here in this room, I suppose, is to be found the interior world of the book; but it opens upon a world beyond the windows, where no event has been collapsed into syntax, where the vocabulary, it seems, is infinite. The indispensable...
Barry Lopez
Please do it your own way. Do it in the mornings when your mind is cold. Do it in the evenings when everything is sold. Do it in the springtime when springtime isn't there. Do it in the winter. We know winter well. Do it on very hot days. Try doing it in hell. Trade bed for a pencil. Trade sorrow for a page. No work it out your own way. Have good luck at your age.
Ernest Hemingway
Now you can introduce me to the hunk." Mo fell into step beside Keeley."I will if you can behave like you have a brain as well as glands."It had nothing to do with glands, I'm just curious. Don't worry, I'm taking a page out of your book there when it comes to men."Keeley stopped at the door to the stables. "Excuse me?"You know, guys are fne to look at, or to hang around with occasionally. But there are lots more important things. I'm not going to get involved with one until I'm...
Nora Roberts
As I see it, a successful story of any kind should be almost like hypnosis: You fascinate the reader with your first sentence, draw them in further with your second sentence and have them in a mild trance by the third. Then, being careful not to wake them, you carry them away up the back alley of your narrative and when they are hopelessly lost within the story, having surrendered themselves to it, you do them terrible violence with a softball bag and then lead them whimpering to the exit on...
Alan Moore
At times this biography made him comfortably nostalgic for a verdant, horse-drawn, affectionate England; at others he was faintly depressed by the way a whole life could be contained by a few hundred pages - bottled, like homemade chutney. And by how easily an existence, its ambitions, networks of family and friend, all its cherished stuff, solidly possessed, could so entirely vanish.
Ian Mcewan
