“When you write a story, don t just write it - live it; When putting words into the mouth of a protagonist (or any character) imagine yourself saying them and while writing about the reaction of the listener, write it the way you would react. Let the conversations not be meant merely to be read but felt as well. If you do not feel what you write; how can you expect the readers to feel it?”
“Never be afraid to share your story. No one can tell it like you can.”
“some stories are sudden like an inhale, some are overcoming like the tides, some, we name mistake, some are called lessons. Stories...tragic, romantic, comedy. We make them, they make us .”
“Most people do a good deal of whatever they do motivated by love. For me, few stories are truly complete without it.”
“For grief has always been so dear to you that you would make me writhing in pain in the brothel of your imaginations than to be playing with a bunch of balloons in the yard where I should have been. And may be that s why, you d rather talk to me about this, than to write a story about me where I could live happily.”
“No one like the Incomplete Stories, so does the God :-)”
“No one likes incomplete story, so does the God :-)”
“One of the ways that your project, your personal healing, or your social invention can change the world is through story. But even if no one ever learns of it, even if it is invisible to every human on Earth, it will have no less of an effect.”
“A true love story has no endings.”
“Life is a story. Why do we die? Because we live. Why do we live? Because our Maker opened His mouth and began to tell a story.”
“When was the last time someone read aloud to you? Probably when you were a child, and if you think back, you ll remember how safe you felt, tucked under the covers, or curled in someone s arms, as a story was spun around you like a web.”
“If we are inclined to forget how much there is in the world besides that which we anticipate, then works of art are perhaps a little to blame, for in them we find at work the same process of simplification or selection as in the imagination. Artistic accounts include severe abbreviations of what reality will force upon us. A travel book may tell us, for example, that the narrator journeyed through the afternoon to reach the hill town of X and after a night in its medieval monastery awoke to a misty dawn. But we never simply journey through an afternoon . We sit in a train. Lunch digests awkwardly within us. The seat cloth is grey. We look out the window at a field. We look back inside. A drum of anxieties resolves in our consciousness. We notice a luggage label affixed to a suitcase in a rack above the seats opposite. We tap a finger on the window ledge. A broken nail on an index finger catches a thread. It starts to rain. A drop wends a muddy path down the dust-coated window. We wonder where our ticket might be. We look back at the field. It continues to rain. At last, the train starts to move. It passes an iron bridge, after which it inexplicably stops. A fly lands on the window And still we may have reached the end only of the first minute of a comprehensive account of the events lurking within the deceptive sentence He journeyed through the afternoon . A storyteller who provides us with such a profusion of details would rapidly grow maddening. Unfortunately, life itself often subscribes to this mode of storytelling, wearking us out with repetitions, misleading emphases[,] and inconsequential plot lines. It insists on showing us Burdak Electronics, the safety handle in the car, a stray dog, a Christmas card[,] and a fly that lands first on the rim and then the centre of a laden ashtray. Which explains the curious phenomenon whereby valuable elements may be easier to experience in art and in anticipation than in reality. The anticipatory and artistic imaginations omit and compress; they cut away the periods of boredom and direct our attention to critical moments, and thus, without either lying or embellishing, they lend to life a vividness and a coherence that it may lack in the distracting woolliness of the present.”
“I once held a belief that life made sense, that working toward a dream would birth substance. Nothing else mattered. I soon discovered that success is as long-lasting as any of life’s novelties. We’ve all been happy with new things, only to be disappointed later. Dolls and soldiers our parents toiled to give us found their way to pedestals, then to the back of closets. I’d always dreamed of marrying a woman I loved and watching my children grow. I wonder if our lives should be filled with the pursuit of such dreams, those magical hopes interwoven into our story. Our stories are decorative shells for the crabs we really are, both protecting and exposing us to the manic outside.”
“A story just isn t a story without a dragon.”
“Stories change us. They change the world. People are stories of themselves.”
“Our own story is even more important for us to know than history.”
“A writer out of loneliness is trying to communicate like a distant star sending signals. He isn t telling, or teaching, or ordering. Rather, he seeks to establish a relationship with meaning, of feeling, of observing. We are lonesome animals. We spend all our live trying to be less lonesome. And one of our ancient methods is to tell a story, begging the listener to say, and to feel, Yes, that s the way it is, or at least that s the way I feel it. You re not as alone as you thought. To finish is sadness to a writer, a little death. He puts the last word down and it is done. But it isn t really done. The story goes on and leaves the writer behind, for no story is ever done.”