#Short Story Collection
Quotes about short-story-collection
A short-story collection is a literary treasure trove, offering readers a diverse array of narratives, each with its own unique world, characters, and themes. This genre encapsulates the essence of storytelling by presenting a variety of tales within a single volume, allowing readers to experience a multitude of emotions and perspectives in one sitting. The tag "short-story-collection" represents the art of concise storytelling, where every word is carefully chosen to evoke powerful imagery and emotion. People are drawn to quotes from short-story collections because they distill the essence of these narratives into memorable, thought-provoking snippets. These quotes often capture the heart of a story, offering insights into human nature, life's complexities, and the myriad experiences that define our existence. Whether it's a poignant reflection on love, a stirring depiction of courage, or a whimsical exploration of happiness, quotes from short-story collections resonate with readers, inviting them to ponder and reflect. They serve as a gateway to the rich tapestry of stories within, sparking curiosity and inspiring deeper exploration of the themes that connect us all.
Anthony honed the razor along the old leather strop and stared intently at the metal blade as it went up and down, flipping back and forth, with the light exploding off of it like a series of quiet, hypnotic explosions.
We were what we had in life, I thought, and I was not sad about it or apologetic for its corniness.
He said, “I was doing a job Tuhin but that old pain sometime, I can’t handle." - A memorable day.
In the three years, she and Noel had been friends, she'd spent a lot of time pretending she didn't need anything more than what he was already giving her. She'd told herself there was a difference between wanting something and needing it...
There are two types of drinkers: those who drink to enhance their personalities, and those who sought to take something away.
Everyone began to pack. Jerry put on his sunglasses, and Alex put some sunscreen on his nose. Mexico wasn't all that bad, they said. It was a very good road trip.
I stood transfixed, the silence ringing in my ears. From the field of wild grasses; cocksfoot, tufted hair, wild oat, tall fescue, reed canary and perennial rye, their subtle shades of green, ochre and pink softly patching and blending in rustling movement, suddenly rose a small flock of starlings that had been feeding quietly unseen among the tall waving stems, the swish of their glossy wings startlingly loud in the stillness of midday. Heat held me captive.
When I was seventeen I found a man, or maybe he found me. Away from home for the first time, out of reach of my father’s archaic restrictions and my mother’s culinary insistence, I cut off my hair, dropped my Christian name, wore black and toyed with anorexia, passing incognito among the city workers, just another ant in that vast heap.