“I think you write because it’s easier than talking,”
“You never hate someone that much unless you’re afraid of him.”
“wafting through the open door of a brightly lit office down the musty, darkened corridor of the backstage.”
“The light in the darkness, as Stephen explained it, did not chase away the shadows of fear and regret: It merely illuminated the fears worth fighting. It lit the paths dictated by fate and choice, rather than casting a celestial glow on the way to a better and more perfect world. Although”
“Why do these people like pain so much?”
“She did not feel she could be a writer because she lacked the courage to let anyone read her words. When”
“Come on . . .” Stephen called back over his shoulder.”
“Maybe Jeff Haugh wouldn’t speak to him in school that day. But it wouldn’t matter. Stephen stared out over his ice-shrouded neighborhood and realized that what had happened the previous night was inviolable; it could not be taken from him the way his childhood had been. Jeff Haugh’s arms and lips had held him, and no words or actions could undo that. Jeff Haugh. Stephen rolled the name back and forth in his head. He found himself unable to think of him as just Jeff. His full name seemed more appropriate. With Jeff Haugh in his history, Stephen would always be part of something beyond his window. He”
“We had good long talks about my writing in the days that followed. "Write of things you know, Julie; familiar, simple things that you have experienced; things that have touched you deeply."
"But nothing's ever happened to me. I've just lived here with Aunt Cordelia and you most of my life, I've gone to school, visited Father--oh, sure, I'm in love with Danny, but that's something we've grown into--very wonderful for us, but not very exciting for the rest of the world. How can a person who has lived as quiet a life as I have find anything to write about?"
"Then you do have a problem. If you haven't lived long enough to have felt anything deeply, than you are in the same position I--as many would-be writers are. You've nothing to say. So take up crocheting.”
“You're such a prude. It's pathetic."
Eesh.
"What I am is too much of a lady to say what you are.”
“I knew it in my gut, like an anchor thrown into the ocean. The deeper it sunk, the more I knew. I was in love”
“It is like a voice heard from another room, singing for the pleasure of the song, and then you know it, too, and through you it moves by accident and necessity down generations. Then, why singing? Why pleasure in it? And why the blessing of the moment when another voice is heard, dreaming to itself?”
“He was good. The best fighter she’d ever faced. But Safi and Iseult were better.”
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