Fralingers Creamy Quotes & Sayings

I'm always amazed by writers who tell me they plan everything at the beginning. I feel their writing days must be very bland. — Rose Tremain

The train came, and Jules Jacobson stepped on and thought: I am the loneliest person in this subway car. — Meg Wolitzer

In 2004,I offered priority (book)-signing to smokers, the reason being that, because they didn't have as long to live, their time was more valuable. Four years later my special treatment was reserved for men who stood five-foot-six and under. "That's right, my little friends," I announced. "There'll be no waiting in line for you." It seemed unfair to restrict myself to men, so I included any woman with braces on her teeth.
"What about us?" asked the pregnant and the lame. And because it was my show, I told them to wait their f***ing turn. — David Sedaris

The rich, the well-born, and the able, acquire an influence among the people that will soon be too much for simple honesty and plain sense, in a house of representatives. The most illustrious of them must, therefore, be separated from the mass, and placed by themselves in a senate; this is, to all honest and useful intents, an ostracism. — John Adams

I didn't go to prom because I was too punk. — Shamir

The white spaces that lie between hour and hour — Virginia Woolf

The stairway is not
a thing of gleaming strands
a radiant evanescence
for angels' feet that only glance in their tread, and need not
touch the stone. — Denise Levertov

15 As for me, I will behold thy face in righteousness: I shall be satisfied, when I awake, with thy likeness. — Anonymous

I didn't like the idea of changing myself for the industry. I felt to have my teeth straightened and bleached and to starve myself to change my body was not respecting who I was. — Laetitia Casta

Word for word, Galland's version [of the One Thousand and One Nights] is the worst written, the most fraudulent and the weakest, but it was the most widely read. Readers who grew intimate with it experienced happiness and amazement. Its orientalism, which we now find tame, dazzled the sort of person who inhaled snuff and plotted tragedies in five acts. Twelve exquisite volumes appeared from 1707 to 1717, twelve volumes innumerably read, which passed into many languages, including Hindustani and Arabic. We, mere anachronistic readers of the twentieth century, perceive in these volumes the cloyingly sweet taste of the eighteenth century and not the evanescent oriental aroma that two hundred years ago was their innovation and their glory. No one is to blame for this missed encounter, least of all Galland. — Jorge Luis Borges