novel

I've come to believe that all my past failure and frustration were actually laying the foundation for the understandings that have created the new level of living in me and now I enjoy ever bit of my life and hope best for rest...something beyond lovelines from Love Vs Destiny...

And so the bird was the end of the man, and the man was the beginning of the bird.

Samuel walked out to Lindsey then, and there she was in his arms, my sweet butterball babe, born ten years after my fourteen years on Earth: Abigail Suzanne. Little Susie to me. Samuel placed Susie on a blanket near the flowers. And my sister, my Lindsey, left me in her memories, where I was meant to be.

Life is about trusting your feelings and taking chances, losing and finding happiness, appreciating the memories, learning from the past, and realizing people change.

Somewhere there's someone who dreams of your smile, and finds in your presence that life is worthwhile. So, when you are lonely remember it's true: somebody, somewhere is thinking of you.

We were afraid of so many things: Of our children, who lived in their own world of casually lurid pleasures, zombies and cartoon killers and thuggish music. Of our neighbors, who were buying gold and ammunition and great quantities of freeze-dried food, and who were organizing themselves into angry tribes recognizable to one another by bumper stickers.

«She had Google, and she had Wikipedia. She could look up anything obscure, any words or phrases that she didn__ understand. A romance novel was just a book, while the Internet was the Internet. The Internet would crack these nuts for sure.»

A novel is just a story that hasn't yet discovered a way to be brief.

The warmth of our bodies began to melt my frozen heart bit by bit.

I went mad before he did, you killed everything in me. Kiss me,will you. Stop defending yourself.

Quote from "A la bulgaro":"So long time has passed since those days, and since that story, which is still vivid in my memory, and even more vivid than all the rest. Some times I stay alone in my work - room here, in my father's old mansion in Pasadena, and I look through the old, yellow pages again and again. Then I go back to the north part which is furnished in my style, with many colored Bulgarian carpets and blankets (special kind of Bulgarian blankets with long fur), I make my coffee in a cooper coffee - pot, which has been brought from there, and my thoughts wonder to those absurd memories of mine...Very often some friends ask me - what is that unusual memories of yours? I can't explain to them, better say I don't want to, and I always avoid the answer by saying - a la Bulgaro - in a Bulgarian way..."Oh, yes, yes"...

Now, my novel begins. No, now I begin my novel__nd yet I cannot decide whether to call myself I or she.

Writing a novel is like traveling the universe on foot.

She didn__ think that by hanging a chandelier from the ceiling you made a room with a chandelier. She felt you__ made another world, which you could slip in and out of by some vague process of application

Beginning a novel is always hard. It feels like going nowhere. I always have to write at least 100 pages that go into the trashcan before it finally begins to work. It's discouraging, but necessary to write those pages. I try to consider them pages -100 to zero of the novel.

The gods command that there can be only one king. But I swear that I am no better than a common soldier today, and you are as good as kings. Each man here is part of me. So what__ left for the king to say? Only two words, but they are the two that your hearts want to hear. Victory.And home!_ Then his command cracked like a whip. __ll together__ove!

The most important thing I came to tell you is that I want your oath that you will keep an open mind...about everything that may seem impossible.

-I think you are inhuman. If I leave you, who will you go to? Would you find another lover?I said nothing.-Deny it,damn you!