410 Quotes About Short-story

Are there not times, Ridley, when you yourself wish only to hear the best in people – and not to be dragged downwards into the underworld we all regularly inhabit?

You are a more powerful person than you might have ever imagined.” Maxwell D. Kalist.

Misery comes to miser; joy comes to wiser. (A Very Hot Cup of Tea, Empathy)Juvenile invites, youth tries, adult applies, and the old man dies. (A Straw Man, Empathy)In everyone, there lives a superhero. (The Medicine Man, Empathy)Faith is the strongest word in any dictionary. (The Wisdom Beard, Empathy)I’ve entered into your feelings; it’s your turn now. (Empathy)

Anyway, I think Florence and I noticed each other before the local train screeched to a halt at the 110th Street station, because as I boarded it felt as though we were supposed to step into the same car, and hold onto the same moist metal bar. My wishful hunch now seems confirmed by the way she's reading her Time magazine article next to me.

Summer sticks to her skirt sumptuously, in the shiny gray fabric hanging loosely from her curves. Her chestnut eyes, apparently hidden from strangers; her simple but graceful face, unpainted by Madison Avenue; and her straight black hair, parted down the middle without ego, all suggest a minimalist - almost pastoral - beauty that is oddly discordant with her fashionable attire, comfortable indifference to the crowds, and quasi-attentive perusal of the Time magazine unfolded over her hand.

The driver watched the young female figure approach within his rearview mirror, unable to discern more than superficial characteristics. As she grew closer, he saw the mud streaks and torn clothing, and within her eyes, he saw an emptiness where something beautiful might once have dwelled. A thing not lost, but taken, abruptly and without warning, using method so thorough as to alter a soul.

A prickle of awareness made the hairs at the back of his neck stand. A deep chill sank into his flesh to settle around his heart, squeezing it. Skeletal fingers scraped along his spine and he wanted to look back over his shoulder, but couldn’t. No, he didn’t dare. If he saw what caused the sound it might be more than he could handle. Rooted to the ground, he couldn’t twitch a finger or twist his head around. His lips glued together, so he couldn’t speak.

We leave such a trail of bodies through our teens and twenties that it's hard to tell which one is us. How many versions do we abandon over the years

I fell in love with her suddenly, deeply, in the most all-consuming way.