fiction

Writing is a pleasure but family is a blessing!

Fiction is Truth's elder sister. Obviously. No one in the world knew what truth was till some one had told a story.

If we truly detach from our childhood and abandon our inherent romanticism, then we shred any bit of humanity left in us.

Most civilizations had more fiction than they did real history.

Dawn cackles as she guides me through the all-glass porch. Thinner, paler Reina shuffles about behind Dawn, watching as I slip my boots off. Although she tries to hide her hands, her fingers flicker nervously. I place my boots neatly on the floor of the porch beside the other pairs in the shadows under the coats. Music drifts through to us from a distant room _ it__ the Beach Boys_ California Dreamin_. Dawn looks at me and I smile _ they__e put the record on for me. Dawn nods along happily. __ear you__e a surfer boy!_ she says and she mimics riding a wave.

a true leader must be able to command with an iron fist, not just a humble heart.

What did you tell me, Jesse? Sure Jake, Stephanie will do exactly what you tell her. Sure Jake, protecting her will be a piece of cake. __norting in disbelief, he added, __eing at war is safer compared to this shit, and it__ a hell of a lot easier than looking after your girlfriend.

It is sometimes the minor, not the major, characters in a novel who hold the author's affection longest. It may be that one loses affection for the major characters because they suck off so much energy as one pushes them through their lives.

Friendship is just love that has yet to sprout wings and take flight.

The pursuit of truth, not of facts, is the business of fiction.

Now she has power and passion and the struggle has significance for me-let the momentary consequences be what they may. Suppose that in her pride she becomes giddy, suppose that she does break with me-all right! -she has her freedom, but she will still belong to me. That the engagement should bind her is silly-I want to possess her only in her freedom

Love, it is said, is blind, but love is not blind. It is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard. To see the best is to see most clearly, and it is the lover's privilege.

Foolish potato, talking to her like that won__ work. You__e got to be mean and show off your foil-wrapped rigidity.

Love is not measured by acts or years, but by truth between two people.

Listen: Common sense doesn't mean what it used to mean."-Matthias Chalmers, STAIRWAY2 HEAVEN

Without making a conscious decision to do so, Drew grabbed a fistful of her ridiculous blond wig and tugged.Some of her hair came with it and he felt a moment of satisfaction when she howled. Bianca__ real hair was a matted mess against her head. He looked at the wig in his hand and moved his gaze to the water fountain.Bianca__ eyes widened. __on__ do it. Don__ you dare._ __on__ do what? Don__ do this?_ He dangled the wig above the fountain.She raised her hands and crept toward him. __ust give it back, Drew, and we__l be even. Okay?___aawww, is Bianca getting worried? Poor baby.___ome on.___ay you__e sorry._ He shook it up and down.__hat? No way.__ith a shrug, he tossed the wig into the water fountain.

Thank-you, son,_ said his father. __ want you to know we__e bothproud of you. Take care, and keep in touch if you can.___r even better, visit!_ said his mother, __ur home isn__ completewithout you!

Some justice, though did not deal with kindheartedness or good feeling toward others. No, justice had a darker side, a gray area where it mingled alongside vengeance, and only the wise and pure of heart were able to tell the two apart. That kind of justice was swift. It was only called upon afer mercy and morals fail. It was the darkest form of goodness known to anyone, even the gods, and required only the strongest, most daring men to bring about.