Top Prose Quotes

I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another til I drop.

MotherHushed and sacred silencefills the dawning skyI ponder in this momentof our journey which is nigh...

Prose Definition

(n.) The ordinary language of men in speaking or writing; language not cast in poetical measure or rhythm; -- contradistinguished from verse, or metrical composition.

(n.) Hence, language which evinces little imagination or animation; dull and commonplace discourse.

(n.) A hymn with no regular meter, sometimes introduced into the Mass. See Sequence.

(a.) Pertaining to, or composed of, prose; not in verse; as, prose composition.

(a.) Possessing or exhibiting unpoetical characteristics; plain; dull; prosaic; as, the prose duties of life.

(v. t.) To write in prose.

(v. t.) To write or repeat in a dull, tedious, or prosy way.

(v. i.) To write prose.

I get so god damn lonely and sad and filled with regrets some days. It overwhelms me as I’m sitting on the bus; watching the golden leaves from a window; a sudden burst of realisation in the middle of...

Lollypop...the passion contained merely kissesplaced upon lips, neck and cheekthese young lovers of the castleof which our fairytale speaks...

Note, to-day, an instructive, curious spectacle and conflict. Science, (twin, in its fields, of Democracy in its)—Science, testing absolutely all thoughts, all works, has already burst well upon the w...

A man cannot impart the true feeling of things to others unless he himself has experienced what he is trying to tell of.

One often hears of writers that rise and swell with their subject, though it may seem but an ordinary one. How, then, with me, writing of this Leviathan? Unconsciously my chirography expands into plac...

The Grim Reaper isn't grim at all; he's a life-saver. He isn't grim because he isn't anything. . . . he is nothing. And nothing is a hell of a lot better than anything. So long, boys.

I am not a Sunday morning inside four wallswith clean bloodand organized drawers.I am the hurricane setting fire to the forestsat night when no one else is aliveor awakehowever you choose to see itand...

I am young now and can look upon my body and soul with pride. But it will be mangled soon, and later it will begin to disintegrate, and then I shall die, and die conclusively. How can we face such a f...

I was amazed by the fact that I was not the only writer living, not the only young man "with a locomotive in his chest, and that's a fact," not the only youth with a million hungers and not one of the...

For I have nothing to lean on, nowhere to call my home and there is nowhere I will go for Christmas to rest my head and touch familiar walls. I have no degree to show on paper or employment to take ca...

Eloquence is the poetry of prose.

Pain is there when you are born,Its the very first thing you feel when you come in to the world.Then why run? Face it head on, cry in it,laugh in it because in the end pain is what you will remember.

THE NEXT DAY WAS RAIN-SOAKED and smelled of thick sweet caramel, warm coconut and ginger. A nearby bakery fanned its daily offerings. A lapis lazuli sky was blanketed by gunmetal gray clouds as it wep...

I am constantly torn between the will to be seen and still hidden so god damn well, a contradiction I never figured out.

Sometimes you need to sit lonely on the floor in a quiet room in order to hear your own voice and not let it drown in the noise of others.

It could have been so beautiful.The way I learned and got free and swore to never love another person ever againand it could have been so beautiful,the way I actually did.

We do not know if she collapsed because of overwhelming joy, extreme surprise, grave disappointment, or heavy anxiety that for the next months and years she would live with a human male, because in fa...

The writing style which is most natural for you is bound to echo the speech you heard when a child. English was the novelist Joseph Conrad's third language, and much of that seems piquant in his use o...