Child Narrator Quotes & Sayings

Time passes, as the novelist says. The single most useful trick of fiction for our repair and refreshment: the defeat of time. A century of family saga and a ride up an escalator can take the same number of pages. Fiction sets any conversion rate, then changes it in a syllable. The narrator's mother carries her child up the stairs and the reader follows, for days. But World War I passes in a paragraph. I needed 125 pages to get from Labor Day to Christmas vacation. In six more words, here's spring. — Richard Powers

I'm still depressed, but how depressed I am varies, which is good. Much of the time, it's a comfortable numbness that just makes things feel muted. Other times, I'm standing in the shower or something and I can feel the nothingness hurtling toward me at eight thousand miles per hour and there's nothing I can really do aside from let it happen and wait until it goes away again. — Allie Brosh

Shit! Now I have another bloody erection on the station platform. This was getting to be a habit. Soon someone will just have to say the word "train" and it will be instant wood! "Hey, Liam! I'm going to the gym to train. You wanna come? Hey, is that an erection? — Renae Kaye

Tethered to the universe by tendrils of history, with threads of continuity descending to God knows where, I see that I'm more than the dust I'll become."
This quote is from my novel, "Whispers from St. Mary's Well." Many readers have said that, like the fictional narrator of the story, Carrie Rose Stillwell, they felt a deep connection to the universe through past, present, and future experiences, after reading the story of a child who communicates with future generations. — Carol Kenny

For the first case I did with Octone, 360 deals were not at all being talked about. And then for the follow-up case, it was the focus. I wanted to see how things were changing and what the new challenges were. — Anita Elberse

My heart for yours — Rachel Van Dyken

One does not only wish to be understood when one writes; one wishes just as surely not to be understood. — Friedrich Nietzsche

In Eudora Welty's masterful story "Why I Live at the P.O." (1941), the narrator is engaged in a sibling rivalry with her younger sister, who has come home after leaving under suspicious if not actually disgraceful circumstances. The narrator, Sister, is outraged at having to cook two chickens to feed five people and a small child just because her "spoiled" sister has come home. What Sister can't see, but we can, is that those two fowl are really a fatted calf. It may not be a grand feast by traditional standards, but it is a feast, as called for upon the return of the Prodigal Son, even if the son turns out to be a daughter. Like the brothers in the parable, Sister is irritated and envious that the child who left, and ostensibly used up her "share" of familial goodwill, is instantly welcomed, her sins so quickly forgiven. Then — Thomas C. Foster

Originally the structure was ... a modern narrator who would appear intermittently and talk about his memories of his grandmother, which would then be juxtaposed against scenes from the past. But the stories from the past were always more interesting that the things in the present. I find this almost endemic to modern plays that veer between past and present ... So as we've gone on developing GOLDEN CHILD, the scenes from the past have become more dominant, and all that remains of the present are these two little bookends that frame the action. — David Henry Hwang

Our impulse as people is to try to control; as an actor, you have to give up that control. — Andrew J. West

But inside loss there can be gain, too,like the small silver spider Bela had discovered one dewy morning, curled asleep at the center of a rose. — Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni

It is hard to create a first-person narrator that can be a child and yet is able to take in enough information for the narrative to be legible to the reader. — Akhil Sharma

Sometimes she did this funny little thing after they'd finished making love. He'd be holding her against his chest, sort of dozing off and feeling peaceful all the way down to his toenails, and she'd make this little ' x' right over his heart with her fingertip. Just this little 'x'. Right over his heart — Susan Elizabeth Phillips