marks-favorites

[marks-favorites]

“‘You’re always you, and that don’t change, and you’re always changing, and there’s nothing you can do about it.’”

Neil Gaiman, The Graveyard Book

[marks-favorites]

“‘You think I’m a prisoner here. That I’m trapped. That you’re trapped. And in a way, maybe we are. But I can’t quite call it a prison when there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.’”

TJ Klune, Under the Whispering Door

[marks-favorites]

“‘I don’t do what is expected of me, only what I expect of myself.’”

Joyce Carol Oates, “Accursed Inhabitants of the House of Bly”

[marks-favorites]

“I must keep writing at every chance, for I dare not stop to think. All, big and little, must go down; perhaps at the end the little things may teach us most.”

Bram Stoker, Dracula

[marks-favorites]

“‘Questions asked today are best answered tomorrow.’”

Lucy Clifford, The New Mother

[marks-favorites]

“I suppose a cry does us all good at times — clears the air as other rain does.”

Bram Stoker, Dracula

[marks-favorites]

“The rain picked up again as we sauntered out and about the rolling ground of the cemetery, offering one person or another a bit of the wine until it seemed the whole lot of us, dead and otherwise, were rather drunk and lively. We danced about the place in a stuporous waltz.”

a quote from a story i wrote a little while ago

[marks-favorites]

“No man knows til he has suffered from the night how sweet and how dear to his heart and eye the morning can be.”

Bram Stoker, Dracula

[marks-favorites]

“His tears cleaned the wounds of his victims.”

The premise for my newest writing idea

[marks-favorites]

“The only indication that any time had passed was Lucifer's grown familiarity with Michael's corner of Heaven. The couches and chairs of his friend's house had become familial, as the plants had, and as the sea had. Michael had doubled the number of utensils, plates, cups in the cabinets of his kitchen. The two had learned little things about each other; Michael loved a dash of honey in his tea and daisies and listening to others play the piano; he preferred to dance with others rather than alone; and when he slept, he kept his wings out and mumbled incomprehensibly. He loved the moon as much as he did Earth, and he sometimes traveled down just to lay over the craters. Michael liked gentle things, softness, in between his love for showings of strength and pride.”

Rafael Nicolás, Angels Before Man

[marks-favorites]

“It's not that I enjoy the taste especially, but I like the way Pet milk swirls in the coffee. Actually, my favorite thing about Pet milk is what the can opener does to the top of the can. The can is unmistakable-compact, seamless looking, its very shape suggesting that it could condense milk without any trouble. The can opener bites in neatly, and the thick liquid spills from the triangular gouge with a different look and viscosity than milk.”

Stuart Dybek, The Coast of Chicago

[marks-favorites]

“Giovanni's face, which I had memorized so many mornings, noons, and nights, hardened before my eyes, began to give in secret places, began to crack. The light in the eyes became a glitter; the wide and beautiful brow began to suggest the skull beneath. The sensual lips turned inward, busy with the sorrow overflowing from his heart.”

James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room