Cliches are the viruses that infect your writing with diseases.
Turn those deep feelings and obsessions of your heart into captivating pieces of literature.
Create a world in front of your readers where they can taste, smell, touch, hear, see, and move. Else they are likely going to move on to another book.
Be a good reader first, if you wish to become a good writer.
A writer can do without food for a few hours, but not without the sight of books.
As you become a better writer, the writing becomes more difficult. You toil harder to tell a story in a lesser number of words.
Tell a story in lesser and simpler words.
Dreams are good at playing with your memory. They love leaving no trace behind and hate to show up once again in the morning.
Ideas either age like fine wine or rot like potatoes over time.
A writer gets to live yet another life every time she creates a new story.
I have before suggested that a genuine blackguard is never without a pocket-handkerchief.
They turned on themselves, like a feverish wheel, all tumbling spokes. Margot stood alone. She was a very frail girl who looked as if she had been lost in the rain for years and the rain had washed ou...
I wait, you play. You speak, I cave. I promise, you break. You game me, daily, you play me.
A gossip spread a rumor, and became notorious from the deed. The gossip then started a fire beyond their control, and when it spread, the gossip spread the word around, but people just ran away. The g...
As writers we live life twice, like a cow that eats its food once and then regurgitates it to chew and digest it again. We have a second chance at biting into our experience and examining it. ...This...
He admired bears because everyone was afraid to disturb them while they slept and fish were so in love with bears that they jumper right into their mouths. He ate meat and never felt bad about it unle...
She knew there were only small joys in life--the big ones were too complicated to be joys when you got all through--and once you realized that, it took a lot of the pressure off.
It's the only light we've got in all this darkness
My whore of a brother has done it again." "Then, as always, orders me to clean up the mess." "I think I hate him." Poseidon to his brother, Zeus.
Inside a wool jacket the man had made a pocket for the treasure and from time to time he would jiggle the pocket, just to make sure that it was still there. And when on the train he rode to work he wo...
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