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Part of what Milton valued in a good book then was contact with the mind of an author rendered otherwise inaccessible by distance or time. Such contact is precisely what much modern and postmodern criticism insists we cannot have. Perhaps a secular world view inevitably leads to a universe in which a text is merely a playing field for the reader's own intellectual athleticism. Perhaps only a Christian view (such as Milton's) of the imago descending from God to author to text can preserve the writing of literature as an act of communication. — Leland Ryken

I hold my face in my two hands. No, I am not crying. I hold my face in my two hands to keep the loneliness warm - two hands protecting, two hands nourishing, two hands preventing my soul from leaving me in anger. — Nhat Hanh

You have to be careful of people who like to talk a big game but can't back it up. — Ray Lewis

I can't write about rich people having relationship problems and breaking up in New York. I don't know that world of Terrence McNally. I knew I had to write people who talk the way I talk. And they talked very different than Terrence McNally. — Lucy Alibar

Why do you two have swords?"
"Yes," Day asked. "Why do we?" He headed toward the door without waiting for the answer.
"There is a gigantic beast rising from the lake and coming toward the hut," Gregori said, as if he'd just told them the neighbors were coming for breakfast. "We should probably stop it before it gets here. — Deborah Blake

We must do everything to ensure that the Euro 2016 is a success. — Francois Hollande

You're so sick, Oedipa, she told herself, or the room, which knew. — Thomas Pynchon

It is not necessary for being with GOD to be always at church: we may make an oratory of our heart wherein to retire from time to time to converse with Him in meekness, humility and love. Every one is capable of such familiar conversation with GOD, some more, some less: He knows what we can do. Let us begin, then. Perhaps — Brother Lawrence

I'd learned early on that the best way to accomplish anything was to grit your teeth and fight your way through it with the best grace you could muster ... — Kristina Douglas

I can't remember coming across a more precise evocation of innocence lost since Golding's The Lord of the Flies. With The Death of Sweet Mister, Daniel Woodrell has written his masterpiece-spare, dark, and incandescently beautiful. It broke my heart. — Dennis Lehane