You Don't Know My Story Quotes & Sayings

I wish I could trust you, Reed, but I know I can't."
His brow furrows in confusion, but there is a wry tilt to his lips, "Why?"
I give him a small smile of my own, "You think you're different from men like Caleb. You see everything in black and white, you don't care about the whole story; you don't care about the gray. Some stories aren't black and white, Agent Reed. — C.J. Roberts

Indirectly, though, he was present in many of our conversations. Once, for instance, my father asked me a series of questions that suddenly made me wonder whether I understood even my father whom I felt closer to than any man I have ever known. "You like to tell true stories, don't you?" he asked, and I answered, "Yes, I like to tell stories that are true." Then he asked, "After you have finished your true stories sometime, why don't you make up a story and the people to go with it? "Only then will you understand what happened and why. "It is those we live with and love and should know who elude us." Now nearly all those I loved and did not understand when I was young are dead, but I still reach out to them. — Norman Maclean

I went to church my entire childhood, and do you know what I learned?" "What?" "Not a thing. I know I heard a lot of things about God, but I don't remember one of them." "Maybe you didn't have good teachers." "How good do you have to be to teach a child one thing? No, the problem wasn't that they couldn't teach me one thing. The problem was they tried to teach me everything. Every week was a different story and a different lesson with a different picture. All I knew is that if I sat there quietly, I'd get a cookie at the end. — Andy Stanley

If I had an ego as big as the Eiffel Tower, would I have won this many collective trophies? I know people like to talk about it. And O.K., I am not going to answer every story. But maybe I will let my collective trophies speak for themselves. I don't know many other footballers who have won as much. Do you? — Zlatan Ibrahimovic

And what about those [writers' workshop] critiques, by the way? How valuable are they? Not very, in my experience, sorry. A lot of them are maddeningly vague. I love the feeling of Peter's story, someone may say. It had something ... a sense of I don't know ... there's a loving kind of you know ... I can't exactly describe it ...
It seems to occur to few of the attendees that if you have a feeling you just can't describe, you might just be, I don't know, kind of like, my sense of it is, maybe in the wrong fucking class. — Stephen King

That's what art is, he said, the story of a life in all its particularity. It's the only thing that really is particular and personal. It's the expression and, at the same time, the fabric of the particular. And what do you mean by the fabric of the particular? I asked, supposing he would answer: Art. I was also thinking, indulgently, that we were pretty drunk already and that it was time to go home. But my friend said: What I mean is the secret story ... The secret story is the one we'll never know, although we're living it from day to day, thinking we're alive, thinking we've got it all under control and the stuff we overlook doesn't matter. But every damn thing matters! It's just that we don't realize. We tell ourselves that art runs on one track and life, our lives, on another, we don't even realize that's a lie. — Roberto Bolano

Another night then,' Mom said. 'Maybe on the weekend we can have a barbecue and invite your sister.'
'Or,' I said turning to Rafe, 'if you want to skip the whole awkward meet-the-family social event you could just submit your life story including your view on politics religion and every social issue imaginable along with anything else you think they might need to conduct a thorough background check.'
Mom sighed. 'I really don't know why we even bother trying to be subtle around you.'
'Neither do I. It's not like he isn't going to realize he's being vetted as daughter-dating material.'
Rafe grinned. 'So we are dating.'
'No. You have to pass the parental exam first. It'll take you awhile to compile the data. They'd like it in triplicate.' I turned to my parents. 'We have Kenjii. We have my cell phone. Since we aren't yet officially dating I'm sure you'll agree that's all the protection we need.'
Dad choked on his coffee. — Kelley Armstrong

You see people, you judge. It's just the human thing to do - good or bad, it's a fact. Like when you get a coffee at Starbucks and the person is rude to you. My mom always says, 'Yeah, but you don't know what kind of day they're having.' You don't know the back-story, and that's why it's so fun to be an actor and to get into the back-story. — Nicola Peltz

If you ask me about my success story, the secret is I know when to pull myself back. I don't overexpose myself; I give proper gaps whenever I can. I do not over spend myself, I keep myself busy in lot of activities. I really work hard; I work harder than others, by focussing on my fitness level and studying music. — Sonu Nigam

I think that many people do not know what empathy is. They think empathy is understanding their own selves and then connecting with like-minded individuals, who of course will understand them since they all share the same ideas. Empathy has nothing to do with likemindedness; it has to do with being able to feel the things that others feel, even when you do not share the same ideas, life story, or absolutely nothing at all! When I hear someone say, "I don't understand you", that makes me feel sorry for them. I can even understand a rock, and they can't understand me? My pet rocks have more empathy than they do. — C. JoyBell C.

It would be nice if the story ended differently - if he had burst into tears and professed his love for me; if he had said the same three words back and hugged me; if he had given it thought and then asked if we could try a relationship.

But you know what? I said those three words to a boy who didn't love me back, at least not in that way. He casually dropped a "love you" later on, and in a platonic 'you have impacted my life' way, he was telling the truth. But I knew. He had given it thought, and we were not on the same page. I built up all this courage to say "I love you" for the very first time, and I said those words to a person that couldn't reciprocate them.

But guess what?

I don't regret any of it. — Stephen Lovegrove

A likely story indeed!" said the Pigeon, in a tone of the deepest contempt. "I've seen a good many little girls in my time, but never one with such a neck as that! No, no! You're a serpent; and there's no use denying it. I suppose you'll be telling me next that you never tasted an egg!"
"I have tasted eggs, certainly," said Alice, who was a very truthful child; "but little girls eat eggs quite as much as serpents do, you know."
"I don't believe it," said the Pigeon; "but if they do, then they're a kind of serpent: that's all I can say. — Lewis Carroll

People often ask authors where their ideas come from, and often authors say they don't know. But I do know about this one. Once upon a time, my wife and I had three small children
two boys and a girl, just like in the story. And when they were young, we used to tell them a story very like YOU'RE ALL MY FAVORITES. — Sam McBratney

Romeo save me, I've been feeling so alone. I keep waiting for you, but you never come. Is this in my head? I don't know what to think. — Taylor Swift

Oh, Mama," I said. "What if I don't live that long?" My mother didn't hesitate one second. "By hook or by crook, you will. Having children only increases your grip on the world. It's like reading a thriller. You can't put it down because you have to know how the story turns out. — Jo-Ann Mapson

FASTER - don't talk down to the audience, take us for a spin, don't spell everything out for us, we're as smart as you - assume we can keep up; FUNNIER - entertain us, help us see how ridiculous and beautiful life can be, give us a reason to feel better about our flaws; LOUDER - deliver the story in the appropriate size, DON'T be indulgent or keep it to yourself, be generous - you're there to reach US." Barney takes a few gulps of air and beats his fist just once on his chest. "There you go, my dear. It might SOUND simple, but if I know you, you'll spend your life dedicated to getting it right. And that's it, my dear. THAT'S the whole banana. — Lauren Graham

Mostly I live in this moment, right now, and I'm grateful for it. I know that most of this life lies behind me, but what I Live for is today, and for the tomorrows that remain. My eyes are bombarded by the sights of this beautiful world. Every breath has the rich fragrance of trees and flowers. I'm privileged to be alive to share these wonderful feelings with you. I toast our fallen comrades, all of whom live on in our hearts.

So far, so good. Do I sound like I think I'm going to live forever? you bet your fucking ass. I know better, at least in my mind. But this heart still beats a little faster for all the beauty in the world. I can honestly say that I've lived my time here fully. Perhaps the life story I have recounted in these pages will help you to avoid some of the pitfalls that tripped me up along the way.I hope so. And I hope that you'll live the rest of your time to the fullest. I don't see any other good way to go. — Tony Curtis

I don't know why but I love this kind of project, when it's a little difficult and when you have a history. The beginning of the story of viticulture was in the Middle East, and it was a different generation than the science and logistics of today. My passion is to go into the past to make wine. Wine is something cultural, not only something to drink. I always try to find the identity of the place. — Stephane Derenoncourt

Don't judge me. You're not living my life and you know nothing about my battles. You have not the faintest idea of how I manage to smile in the middle of storms or how I transform my despair into delight. You have not the faintest idea of what I have gone through and why I am who I am today. This is my life and only I know the real story. The strains, the struggles, the sorrows are all mine. They're not for you to assess or evaluate; I give that authority to none, for My Guiding Light is Within. - Manprit Kaur — Manprit Kaur

But there's also the fact that in my experience most of my readers are first and foremost plain old-fashioned readers. Good readers. They're not looking for cozy brand-name output and that means I don't have to give it to 'em. They're not lazy and have little patience with pre-fab beach-bag books or Oprah's opine du jour. They're questers.
They know that every now and then you're gonna get lucky and pure gold like King and Straub's Black House will simply drop into your lap at the local supermarket but after that, if your bent is horror and suspense fiction, you're gonna have to get your hands dirty and root around for more. Find a Ramsey Campbell or an Edward Lee. They expect diversity and search it out. They want what all good readers want - to be taken somewhere in a book or a story that's really worth visiting for a while. Maybe even worth thinking about after.
If that place happens to scare the hell out of you all the better. — Jack Ketchum

YOU! You're boring! You're not even good enough for a good insult! You're in the one place Where magic is always real! Part the seas if you want! Rain down ink and blood! Transform! Fly! You're not allowed to spend the rest of your life panicking! You've got to give something back if you want to get out of here!"
What? What?? What do I give?"
You've got stories in there, I know, I can smell 'em
"
Stoppit, stoppit! I don't! I can't tell a story to save my life!"
Funny you should put it that way. — Carla Speed McNeil

I love you. Don't leave me. But I couldn't speak. Not with words. So I told her the story of my love with the rest of me. With my lips and my hands. With a touch and a sigh. I loved her, and I didn't know if I could keep her. But I would try. — Staci Hart

I don't know what I was looking for . . . I felt empty. I guess. Not hearing from you made it all seem surreal, like you were never there, a dream, a figment of my imagination.

I went to your site that day to . . . I guess, double-check.

I thought. . . maybe you wrote something, a new story . . . a message . . . anything.

I did find a new story . . .

It wasn't about us . . .

And I ended up feeling even emptier. — Stjepan Sejic

Your visit with Interpol went well?" "They asked their questions, I told them my story." "One thing I don't get," I said. "Why haven't they brought me in yet?" Win smiled. "You know why." "They're tailing me." "Correct answer." "You see them?" "Black car on right corner." "Mossad is probably following me too." "You're a very popular man." "It's because I'm a good listener. People like a good listener." "Indeed." "I'm also fun at parties." "And a snazzy dancer. What do you want to do about the tails?" "I'd like to lose them for the day." "No problem. — Harlan Coben

Where will I find you now that my heart is yours?
Where should I search? I don't know where to look.
You fill my heart with desire and love,
The perfume of the lotus, the grace of a dove.
But then the dove flies far, far away,
All that is left is a song for my harp strings to play.
A voice in my memories like an angel of grace,
Where can I find you? Do you know how I pray?
Where will I find you now that my love belongs to you?
Wherever your heart beats, I'm dreaming of you.
Now and forever my love belongs to you ...
Now and forever my love belongs to you ... — Bjorn Street

Sugar, that's what they always say. Ya know, everybody wantz to tell stories but they just end up makin' their own story with me to tell to someone else. I haven't heard any stories but I bet I'm in a lot. You don't know it now, but it costs money for my stories. — Chad Faries

A central principle underlying Mrs Quinty's Rules for Writing is that you have to have a Beginning Middle and End. If you don't have these your Reader is lost. But what if Lost is exactly where the writer is? I asked her. Ruth, the writer can't be lost, she said, and then knew she'd said it too quickly and bit her lip knowing I was going to say something about Dad. She pressed her knees together and diverted into a fit of dry coughing. This, Dear Reader, is a river narrative. My chosen style is The Meander. I know that in The Brothers Karamazov (Book 1,777, Penguin Classics, London) Ippolit Kirillovich chose the historical form of narration because Dostoevsky says it checked his own exuberant rhetoric. Beginnings middles and ends force you into that place where you have to Stick to the Story as Maeve Mulvey said the night the Junior Certs were supposed to be going to the cinema in Ennis but were buying cans in Dunnes and drinking — Niall Williams

Young actors often ask me how do you get an agent, how do you get started, how do you get to audition, and I don't know what to tell them because my story is so fluky. — Liane Balaban

Before I go to sleep tonight; I will speak a nice prayer, I will let my worries leave my mind as silence fills the air.
If I have a bed; to curl between the sheets,
I am an inch more blessed; than the man, on the street.
If I have a love to cuddle; in the comfort of my home,
I am grateful, I still have their presence to tell them, I love them so.
If I have healthy eyes, that I can choose to close;
I am grateful for my sight, because some will never know.
If I have a voice & glistening ears to listen;
Than in all my glory, I am grateful for this livin'
All that really matters; is what, most don't have the courage to see,
Who you became; from the day of your birth, the dash and the final chapter that makes your story complete. — Nikki Rowe

You don't know my pain. You don't know my story. You don't know the hope I've held in my heart for years. Hope that one day I would be different. Hope that one day the person I chose to give my heart to would see me as beautiful, pure, like the snow. And wouldn't look at the darkness and walk in the other direction. — Rachel Van Dyken

Even though you haven't seen him since he was knee high," Kate prompted.
"Even so, I'll tell you two things I know about Matt Jareau." Gran gained the second-story landing and regarded Kate with twinkling eyes. "He's single. And he's a hunk."
Kate laughed. "You think he's a hunk based on what you remember of him from twenty years ago?"
"Twenty-five. And also the phone conversations we've had about the work he'll be doing for us. I could tell by his voice."
"I don't know, Gran. Casey Kasem has a good voice."
"No, I'm sure of it. We're the luckiest two women in this town, because I'm telling you, and mark my words, our contractor is a hunk. — Becky Wade

Someday," I say softly, "you'll tell me the whole story. I'll wait."
"When you know the whole story, you won't want me anymore. I'm that girl."
"Don't count on that."
When I lift my eyes to her face, she's watching me with something like wonder. "What?"
She shakes her head, "I can't figure you out."
"Good." I cup her face in my palms and trace her bottom lip with my thumb. "Then maybe you won't be able to figure out how to push me away. — Lexi Ryan

I will tell you a story," Schmendrick said. "As a child I was apprenticed to the mightiest magician of all, the great Nikos, whom I have spoken of before. But even Nikos, who could turn cats into cattle, snowflakes into snowdrops, and unicorns into men, could not change me into so much as a carnival cardsharp. A last he said to me, 'My son, your ineptitude is so vast, your incompetence so profound, that I am certain you are inhabited by greater power than I have ever known. Unfortunately, it seems to work backwards at the moment, and even I can find no way to set it right. It must be that you are meant to find your own way to reach your power in time; but frankly, you should live so long as that will take you. Therefore I grant it that you shall not age from this day forth, but will travel the world round and round, eternally inefficient, until at last you come to yourself and know what you are. Don't thank me. I tremble at your doom. — Peter Beagle

I went back into my bedroom and knelt at my bed the way I did when I was a kid. I folded my hands and pressed the top knuckle joints of my thumbs hard into my forehead. Dear God. I don't know what I want or who I am. Apparently you do. Um ... that's great. Never mind. You have a terrible reputation here. You should know that. Oh, but I guess you do know that. Save me now. Or when it's convenient. We could run away together. This is stupid. What am I doing? I guess this is a prayer. I feel like an idiot, but I guess you knew that already, too. My sister said that god is music. Goodbye, Amen. I lay in my bed and waited for that thick, sweet feeling to wash over me, for that unreal semi-conscious state where the story begins and takes on a life of its own and all you have to do is close your eyes and give in and let go and give in and let go and go and go and go. — Miriam Toews

He terrifies me, Aunt Peg." I don't have the backbone to say it to her face. "Oliver is such a self-contained person. He's always so calm, so at ease, so refined. I'm the one who's always losing my mind over nothing. He is unbelievably amazing in a way I don't know if I can reciprocate. His voice is calm and patient. It makes me feel like he will sit me down and tell me everything's going to be okay. And his eyes. Have you seen his eyes? They're so kind and gentle. — Elisa Marie Hopkins

Who cares what the color means? How do you know what he meant to say? I mean, did he leave another book called "Symbolism in My Books?" If he didn't, then you could just be making all of this up. Does anyone really think this guy sat down and stuck all kinds of hidden meanings into his story? It's just a story ... But I think you are making all of this symbolism stuff up. I don't believe any of it. — Laurie Halse Anderson

Hi, my name is Tess Embers.
A lot of thoughts are probably running through your mind right now. Who does this person think she is? Doesn't she know that you should never begin a story with a boring phrase like,'Hi, my name is...'? Doesn't she know to use a hook at the beginning to draw readers in instead of pushing them away?
Well, sorry, but I'm just a teenage girl and I don't necessarily want everyone to know everything about my life. Maybe I don't want to hook people. — Embee

I said on the phone to my mother, "I think I'm going to write the story of the Burgess kids." "It's a good one," she agreed. "People will say it's not nice to write about people I know." My mother was tired that night. She yawned. "Well, you don't know them," she said. "Nobody ever knows anyone. — Elizabeth Strout

Here follows the substance of what I said, written out entirely for your benefit. Pay attention to it, or you will be all abroad, when we get deeper into the story. Clear your mind of the children, or the dinner, or the new bonnet, or what not. Try if you can't forget politics, horses, prices in the city and grievances at the club. I hope you won't take this freedom on my part amiss; it's only a way I have of appealing to a gentle reader. Lord! haven't I seen you with the greatest authors in your hands, and don't I know how ready your attention is to wander when it's a book that asks for it, instead of a person? — Wilkie Collins

The Marquess shrugged. "I'm a shadow. I do know I am a shadow, Iago. I know most of the time. It's only when I cannot bear how everyone looks at me down here that I make myself forget it. Shadows are the other side of yourself. I had longings to be good, even then. I was just stronger than my wanting. I'm stronger than anything, really, when I want to be." The Marquess's hair turned white as the snow. "Do you know, we're right underneath Springtime Parish? This place is the opposite of springtime. Everything past prime, boarded up for the season. Just above us, the light shines golden on daffodils full of rainwine and heartgrass and a terrible, wicked, sad girl I can't get back to. I don't even know if I want to. Do I want to be her again? Or do I want to be free? I come here to think about that. To be near her and consider it. I think I shall never be free. I think I traded my freedom for a better story. It was a better story, even if the ending needed work. — Catherynne M Valente

You don't have to know me, to read my drama-story. — Shin Haido

You don't really want my side of the story. You don't want to understand me, know me, to crawl inside of my head. You don't want to feel the things I've felt. You just want to know that one thing: why.
Fine. Here's why: Her. I did it all for her. — Jess Walter

Okay, you have to understand I was drunk."

"So?"

"So don't believe anything I said."

"What about now?"

"I don't know. I don't trust myself around you. Talking to you is like drinking tequila. One minute I'm in control, and the next I'm - "

He holds me hard against him, then he claims my lips, brutally, violently, the way I was secretly hoping he would. And I kiss him back with so much force it nearly knocks all air from my lungs. — Elisa Marie Hopkins

Brian's eyeborw shot up. "Don't m ind me for asking silly questions, Anna, but aren't you the one who determines Bux's fate?"
"You obviously know nothing about the writing process," Anna shot back impatiently. "My characters are living, breathing beings, Brian, and they do what they must in order for the story to unfold. But they aren't perfect, Far from it! All too often, they exercise bad behavior and make poor decisions and there's nothing I can do to stop them. — Judy Kouzel

He killed a man," Mom said. "He was framed," Grandma Frida said. "You don't even know the story," Mom said. Grandma shrugged. "Framed. A man that pretty can't be a murderer." Mother stared at her. "Penelope, I'm seventy-two years old. You let me enjoy my fantasy." "Go Grandma." Arabella pumped her fist in the air. — Ilona Andrews

Before you know it you'll be my age telling your own granddaughter the story of your life and you wanna make it an interesting one, don't you? You wanna be able to tell her some adventures, some excitements, some something. How you live your life, little one, is a gift for those who come after you, a kind of inheritance. — Cristina Garcia

Based on my own experience, when you're going through adolescence you don't know how the world works. You can't set a story in the world you live in because you don't know what a utility bill is, or how to budget your paycheck. — Patton Oswalt

I don't know if you've ever seen some of the Sidney Lumet movies, like Dog Day Afternoon [1975] or Network [1976]. They're real events that happen in real time, and there are all of these different characters experiencing the same thing in different parts of the movie ... I am so bad at explaining my films. But it's in the world of finance and the world of media, and how they connect. It was a big undertaking. A big, mainstream movie, which stars Julia Roberts and George Clooney. But for me, it's really just a small story about character and people. — Jodie Foster

So this purports to be a disease, alcoholism? A disease like a cold? Or like cancer? I have to tell you, I have never heard of anyone being told to pray for relief from cancer. Outside maybe certain very rural parts of the American South, that is. So what is this? You're ordering me to pray? Because I allegedly have a disease? I dismantle my life and career and entered nine months of low-income treatment for a disease, and I'm prescribed prayer? Does the word retrograde signify? Am I in a sociohistorical era I don't know about? What exactly is the story here? — David Foster Wallace

I don't think people really understood what I did. And you know, in my book, 'A Helluva High Note' deals with my back story, that I was a songwriter, that I spent years trying to hone my craft and being rejected and then finally becoming a successful songwriter, record executive and publisher. — Kara DioGuardi

Stop being the shy boy that wants to do everything right and responsibly. I'm sick of your honorable intentions Eli. In fifty years, when I'm old in my bed I want to wake up when the sun shines in my window and know that the person lying beside me was the right choice. I don't want to look at someone else and always wish it was you." ~ Maggie Parsons from Epitaphs from the Afterlife — Autumn Rosen

I was recording my audiobook, and it's so weird. You write things, but then to have to say them out loud in front of people feels so different. So when I was recording my audiobook, I was telling an embarrassing story in front of, like, a room full of audio-tech people that I don't know, and I was like 'Oh my God, this is so cringe.' — Tyler Oakley

I don't have to tell you what this land used to look like," he said. "And you don't have to tell me that I am the one who ruined it. Which I did, with my own hands, and ruined forever. You're old enough to remember when the grass between here and Canada was balls high to a Belgian, and yes it is possible that in a thousand years it will go back to what it once was, though it seems unlikely. But that is the story of the human race. Soil to sand, fertile to barren, fruit to thorns. It is all we know how to do. — Philipp Meyer

You don't know how much I admire you, Rachel." His eyes glow with the force of his emotions. "How you care for others. For me. I appreciated your words before, but this ... " He takes something out of his pocket, and I hold my breath when I recognize the magazine cover for the article I wrote. "This was very brave, Rachel. Putting yourself out there like that for me. This was a leap on its own. You're right." He lifts it up for me to see, then sets it aside on a nearby desk and starts coming forward. "It was our story, but not our entire story. It was only the beginning. — Katy Evans

I was doing a show at the Comedy Store which Eddie Izzard saw, and we chatted for a bit afterwards. I didn't really know he was; we just hung out as comedians together, and when he heard my story, he said, 'Why don't you tell that on stage?' I didn't really want to burden people with all that, but he said that I could have fun with it. — Trevor Noah

My story is about all I got to my name right now, and that's why I feel robbed. But a story's a whole lot more than most people got. All you people watching out there, you're listening to what I say because I have something you don't: I got plot. Bought and paid for. That's what all you people want, and why you're sucking off me. You want my plot. I know how you feel too, since hey, I used to feel the same way. TV and video games and movies and computer screens ... On April 8th, 1999, I jumped into the screen, I switched to watchee. Ever since, I've known what my life is about. I give good story. It may have been kinda gory, but admit it, you all loved it. You ate it up. Nuts, I ought to be on some government payroll. Without people like me, the whole country would jump off a bridge, 'cause the only thing on TV is some housewife on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? winning $64,000 for remembering the name of the president's dog. — Lionel Shriver

You know every story, every wound, every memory. Their whole life's happiness is wrapped up in you... every single second. Don't you get it? Look down the road to her wedding. I'm in a room alone with her, fixing her veil, fluffing her dress, telling her no woman has ever looked so beautiful. And my fear is she'll be thinking, "I wish my mom was here. — Jackie Harrison

Don't judge me. You know my name, but not my story. — Demi Lovato

Let's go back to the train station,' she said. 'Or,
rather, let's come back to this room, to the day when we sat here together for the first time
and you recognised that I existed and gave me a gift. That was your first attempt to enter my
soul, and you weren't sure whether or not you were welcome. But, as you say in your story,
human beings were
once divided and now seek the embrace that will reunite them. That is our instinct. But it is
also our reason for putting
up with all the difficulties we meet in that search.I want you to look at me, but I want you to take care
that I don't notice. Initial desire is important because it is hidden, forbidden, not permitted.
You don't know whether you are looking at your lost half or not; she doesn't know either,
but something is drawing you together, and you must believe that it is true you are each
other's other half — Paulo Coelho

A few days after I began my short story, I returned to his desk and handed him my updates. He pushed his wire-rimmed reading glasses way down on his nose and focused on the two pages. "Okay, you got a beginning; you got yourself a middle and an end. You got a wing-dinger opening line. But you don't have an establishing paragraph. Do you know what that is?"
He didn't wait for me to answer.
"It's kinda like an outdated road map for the reader," he said. "It gives the reader a general idea of where you're taking him, but doesn't tell him exactly how you intend to get there, which is all he needs to know. — John William Tuohy

Do you mind not intoning the responses, Jeeves?" I said. "This is a most complicated story for a man with a headache to have to tell, and if you interrupt you'll make me lose the thread. As a favour to me, therefore, don't do it. Just nod every now and then to show that you're following me."
I closed my eyes and marshalled the facts.
"To start with then, Jeeves, you may or may not know that Mr Sipperley is practically dependent on his Aunt Vera."
"Would that be Miss Sipperley of the Paddock, Beckley-on-the-Moor, in Yorkshire, sir?"
"Yes. Don't tell me you know her!"
"Not personally, sir. But I have a cousin residing in the village who has some slight acquaintance with Miss Sipperley. He has described her to me as an imperious and quick-tempered old lady ... But I beg your pardon, sir, I should have nodded."
"Quite right, you should have nodded. Yes, Jeeves, you should have nodded. But it's too late now. — P.G. Wodehouse

I think my first general rule is that most of my experiences are not that interesting. It's usually other people's experiences. It's not that entirely conscious. Somebody tells me a story or, you know, repeats an anecdote that somebody else told them and I just feel like I have to write it down so I don't forget - that means for me, something made it fiction-worthy. Interesting things never happen to me, so maybe two or three times when they do, I have to use them, so I write them down. — Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

In my world," said Posy, "authors write stories, and the characters do whatever the author tells them. It's not like this--the characters don't have minds and lives of their own."
"How do you know this?" was Caris' surprising reply. The corner of her mouth turned up in a playful smile. "You do not see the characters when the pages of the book are shut. Is there never a time when you read a book for the second time and you notice something that you didn't remember from the first time? Or hear a story told, and every time it is told it grows and changes in the telling? Change is the nature of everything. — Ashlee Willis

How do you get the happy ending? John Irving ought to know. One of my favorite authors, Irving writes these multigenerational epics of fiction that somehow work out in the end. How does he do it? He says, 'I always begin with the last sentence ; then I work my way backwards, through the plot, to where the story should begin.' Thst sounds like a lot of work, especially compared to the fantasy that great writers sit down and just go where the story takes them. Irving lets us know that good stories and happy endings are more intentional than that.
Most 20 something's can't write the last sentence of their lives. But when pressed, they usually can identify things they want in their 30s or 40s or 60s -or things they don't want- and work backward from there. This is how you have your own multigenerational epic with a happy ending. This is how you live your life in real time. — Meg Jay

I said, 'Then whered the other story come from? ... '
He said, 'It come in to my mynd.'
I said, 'You mean you made it up.'
He said, 'Wel no I dint make it up you cant make up nothing in your head no moren you can make up what you see. You know what I mean may be what you see aint all ways there so you cud reach out and touch it but its there some kynd of way and it come from some where. That place Hagmans Il I use to wunner about it every time we come by it til finely that story come in to my head. That story cudnt come out of no where cud it so it musve come out of some where. Parbly it ben in that place from time back way back or may be in a nother place only the idear of it come to me there. That don't make no odds. That storys jus what ever it is and thats what storys are. — Russell Hoban

Most of the time, with voice-overs, you're recording before they've got the graphics, and you also don't get a whole script. I get my lines, as I show up that day. You don't know what the rest of the story is, so you really rely on the people in the room that you're working with, so they can fill you in on what's going on, right around your particular lines. — Tricia Helfer

Betsy Trotwood don't look a likely subject for the tender passion, but the time was, Trot, when she believed in that man most entirely. When she loved him, Trot, right well. When there was no proof of attachment and affection that she would not have given him. He was a fine-looking man when I married him", said my aunt, with an echo of her old pride and admiration in her tone. "I was a fool; and I am so far an incurable fool on that subject, that, for the sake of what I once believed him to be, I wouldn't have even this shadow of my idle fancy hardly dealt with. For I was in earnest, Trot, if ever a woman was. There, my dear. Now, you know the beginning, middle, and end, and all about it. We won't mention the subject to one another any more; neither, of course, will you mention it to anybody else. This is my grumpy, frumpy story, and we'll keep it to ourselves, Trot! — Charles Dickens

I don't want you to write about what you know, because you don't know anything. I don't want to hear about your boyfriend or your grandma ... I'm getting a little tired of 'my life story as fiction'. Please don't tell me about your little life - is there nothing larger? More important? — Toni Morrison

You are angry at the God you were taught to believe in as a child. The God who is supposed to watch over you and protect you, who answers your prayers and forgives your sins. This God is just a story. Religions try to capture God, but God is beyond religion. The true God lies beyond our comprehension. We can't understand His will; He can't be explained in a book. He didn't abandon us and He will not save us. He has nothing to do with our being here. God does not change. He simply is. I don't pray to God for forgiveness or favors, I only pray to be closer to Him, and when I pray, I fill my heart with love. When I pray this way, I know that God is love. When I feel that love, I remember that we don't need angels or a heaven, because we are a part of God already. — Nando Parrado

You know, Phil, I don't feel real comfortable in these situations. Maybe we ought to go in another direction.' Then Scottie came in and said, 'You know, Phil, Michael said in his commercial that he's been asked to do this twenty-six times and he's failed. Why don't we go to Steve?' So I thought to myself, 'I guess I have to bail Michael out again. I've been carrying him all year, so what's one more time?' Anyway, the shot went in, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. — Sam Smith

What happened?"
Bria shrugged. "I waited until I was sure there was no one else around who could get hurt, then threw my coffee in the bastard's face and took away his gun. While he was screaming from the pain and the second-degree burns, I cuffed his ass and hauled him down to the station. End of story."
Fin gave my sister a warm, admiring look. "Nice takedown, detective. Even if you should have found another way to do it. Don't you know that you never, ever waste a cup of coffee like that? — Jennifer Estep

You think I don't know what I want? You think I love the idea of relying on my looks for life? No! It's pathetic! In my head, I have a nice, quiet, normal job that involves me running my own business. I carry a briefcase around my office with important documents, I have a nice assistant who calls me boss, and people ask me questions - they ask for my advice because I matter! I'm important to them! I'm recognized as something more than a pretty face and a pair of legs. I have a brain and interests and thoughts about religion, and poverty, and economics. I'm not a miserable girl with a number attached to her chest, stripping her clothes off in a room full of people. — Elisa Marie Hopkins

I think everybody did their share of experimenting in the 1960s with drugs. My story is real simple. I was taking amphetamines in the late 60s and I was addicted to them. I don't necessarily know the why. I'm sure at the time I could've told you six different reasons why I was doing it. But, in the end, all of that stuff, all chemicals will hurt you. — Tommy James

Hey, we live each day, start each day, as if we had an endless number stretching out ahead of us. We don't, but that's how one has to face the day, right? I see an analogy with writing fiction: the story at hand probably won't come off well, and even if it does, it probably won't get published, but if it does there won't be any payment for it - and even if there is, almost nobody will read it, and most who do won't understand or like it. But you go ahead and write the story. What choices do you have? There's always silence, but that won't do for me." - Gordon Weaver (who is suddenly my hero, even though I don't know who he is). — Gordon Weaver

She pulled me into a hug and I squeezed her so tight we lost our breaths.
"I love you, Soph." She pulled back from me, her eyes wide and searching. "I'll see you really soon."
"I know," I said, forcing my smile. "And I love you too."
She tapped my nose and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.
"We're the real love story here, you know that, don't you?"
I wiped a tear from my cheek. "I know that, Mil. I've always known that. — Catherine Doyle

You kissed me, and I opened my eyes and thought you were Death. You were the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, and I clung to the memory of you because it gave me comfort - the only bit of happiness I had ever had. You were my secret fantasy, my lover. My story ... Lord Death is you, and the woman he stalks ... is me."
"Why have you come," he asked, "when you now know the truth?"
"Because when you saved me, you forged a link between us. I don't believe it will ever break."
"Bella," he whispered, "I couldn't allow you to take your life. Couldn't bear the thought of existing in a world that you did not. — Charlotte Featherstone

There aren't a lot of female story artists, and it's baffling to me. There are a lot of kids in school that are female and I wonder, 'Where did they all go?' People have brought it up, asking me, 'What did you do?' I don't really know. I puttered along, did my thing and gender has really never been an issue. — Jennifer Yuh Nelson

I don't know where ideas come from. They come from outer space or God, if you like, or from my subconscious mind. But I never go ou self-consciously looking for a story. — Richard Adams

I read and write for character. If I like and can relate to the characters in a story I can enjoy any kind of story. I also want something with a definitive plot - you know, beginning, middle and end--that has forward motion. I don't like series books that leave you hanging after you've finished a book and in my own fiction I try to make sure that there's always an entry point for those who are new to the book as well as long-time readers. — Charles De Lint

Tessa craned her head back to look at Will. "You know that feeling," she said, "when you are reading a book, and you know that it is going to be a tragedy; you can feel the cold and darkness coming, see the net drawing tight around the characters who live and breathe on the pages. But you are tied to the story as if being dragged behind a carriage and you cannot let go or turn the course aside." His blue eyes were dark with understanding - of course Will would understand - and she hurried on. "I feel now as if the same is happening, only not to characters on a page but to my own beloved friends and companions. I do not want to sit by while tragedy comes for us. I would turn it aside, only I struggle to discover how that might be done."
"You fear for Jem," Will said.
"Yes," she said. "And I fear for you, too."
"No," Will said, hoarsely. "Don't waste that on me, Tess. — Cassandra Clare

The world isn't always what's right in front of you, you know? It's below, it's above, it's out there somewhere. Every burn of every light inside every house I see when I look down from the rooftop has a story. Sometimes we just need to change our perspective.
And when I look down at everything, I remember that there's more out there than just what's going on in my house - the bullshit with my dad, school, my future. I look at all those full houses, and I remember, I'm just one of many. It's not to say we're not special or important, but it's comforting, I guess. You don't feel so alone. — Penelope Douglas

Don't judge me. You do not know my story. — Michelle Frost

I know I told you to go to hell," I say, "but I'm glad you ignored me."
"Delia, that newspaper story
"
"You know what?" I say, trying to keep my voice from breaking. "Right now, I don't need a journalist. But I sure could use a friend."
He hunches his shoulders. "I have references."
I offer up the smallest smile, a bridge between us. "Actually," I confess, "you're the only one who applied. — Jodi Picoult

Claire: Dear Claire, "What" and "If" are two words as non-threatening as words can be. But put them together side-by-side and they have the power to haunt you for the rest of your life: What if? What if? What if? I don't know how your story ended but if what you felt then was true love, then it's never too late. If it was true then, why wouldn't it be true now? You need only the courage to follow your heart. I don't know what a love like Juliet's feels like - love to leave loved ones for, love to cross oceans for but I'd like to believe if I ever were to feel it, that I will have the courage to seize it. And, Claire, if you didn't, I hope one day that you will. All my love, Juliet — Lise Friedman

Rhys straightened. "You'd- make me food?"
"Heat," I said. "I can't cook."
It didn't seem to make a difference. But whatever it was, the act of offering him food... I dumped some cold soup into a pan and lit the burner. "I don't know the rules," I said, my back to him. "So you need to explain them to me."
He lingered in the center of the cabin, watching my every move. He said hoarsely, "It's an... important moment when a female offers her mate food. It goes back to whatever beats we were a long, long time ago. But it still matters. The first time matters. Some mated pairs will make an occasion of it- throwing a party just so the female can formally offer mate food... That's usually done amongst the wealthy. But it means that the female... accepts the bond."
I stared into the soup. "Tell me the story- tell me everything."
He understood my offer: tell me while I cooked, and I'd decide at the end whether or not to offer him that food. — Sarah J. Maas

We've made a beautiful mess of things lately, haven't we?" He flashed that sexy crooked smile at me, which made my heart flutter.
"But it's our crazy story," "It's been ours, only ours. There's been a lot of romance, sometimes way too much drama ... " "very memorable comedy, a few pulse-racing action scenes ... "
"We've also had our fair share of suspense and raw terror, and unfortunately gut-wrenching heartache too."
"I think we've covered it all, everything except fo being captured by aliens!"
"But through it all you've loved me unconditionally, and I know how fortunate I am to have your love. I don't want to live without you, not for one more minute, not for one more second. I want to spend the rest of my days living my story with you ... only you."
"It is here that I fell in love with you"
"And as fate would have it, it is here that I humbly kneel before you and ask you to be my wife. — Tina Reber

Talk about something else. Tell me about this book you are writing."
"What book?" I say. Then : "Oh, I know what you mean. I am not doing that anymore. I couldn't finish._
I don't think he knows, not really. Not yet.
In my haste to finish this story before death overtakes me, inevitably I have left out many things, and often I have expresses myself inelegantly, and no doubt here and there I have said more than I meant to. When you return, my dear type writer, we will review what we have done, and add this and subtract that. This work has become my hobby and my consolation, and I enjoy it. — Phillip Margulies

The good people who are publishing this book have a concern that they have expressed to me. The concern is that readers like yourself will read my history of the Baudelaire orphans and attempt to imitate some of the things they do. So at this point in the story, in order to mollify the publishers - the word 'mollify' here means 'get them to stop tearing their hair out in worry' - please allow me to give you a piece of advice, even though I don't know anything about you. The piece of advice is as follows: If you ever need to get to Curdled Cave in a hurry, do not, under any circumstances, steal a boat and attempt to sail across Lake Lachrymose during a hurricane, because it is very dangerous and the chance of your survival are practically zero. — Lemony Snicket

I couldn't have articulated this process at the time; I just sort of did it instinctually. But now when I talk about this with my students all the time, it's one of the first things I address in memoir classes - that you have to put it all in because you're writing your way into the ending of your own story. Even if you think you know what the story is, you don't until you write it. If you start leaving things out you could leave out vital organs and not know it. — Melissa Febos

I didn't leave early that morning. I waited for him to wake up and kiss me good morning. He said he was going to take a shower and I should come join him. I thought now was as good of a time as any and placed the ring on his corner table with my note.

It read:
My Love, I don't know how you will accept my decision. I do love you with all my heart but you are not my first love. I am always going to be infatuated with my love for the sea. Accept my proposal after I have completed my education, claim my heart for thy own & obtain thy love in which it possesses.
With all My Love, Zara

-emerald eyes of the sea — Hazel Cartwright

I feel like when you do Twitter, sometimes you just have an idea and you fire it off and don't really think too hard about the consequences of that. I think my reputation there is as a comedian and not someone to be taken seriously. But I like the idea of getting out false information and just muddying up the story and making it as confusing and, you know, schizophrenic as possible. — Tim Heidecker

But if you could read my thoughts, you would be welcome to come in
and listen to the story of my life. At least, you could slip your arm through
the bars and touch me and I will hold out my forepaw to greet you, after
retracting my claws, of course. You are carried away by appearances - my
claws and fangs and the glowing eyes frighten you no doubt. I don't blame
you. I don't know why God has chosen to give us this fierce make-up, the
same God who has created the parrot, the peacock, and the deer, which
inspire poets and painters. I would not blame you for keeping your distance
- I myself shuddered at my own reflection on the still surface of a pond
while crouching for a drink of water, not when I was really a wild beast, but
after I came under the influence of my Master and learnt to question, 'Who
am I?' Don't laugh within yourself to hear me speak thus. I'll tell you about
my Master presently. — R.K. Narayan

Bast brightened at the opportunity. Straightening up in his chair he looked thoughtful for a moment then said. "She had perfect ears." He made a delicate gesture with his hands. "Perfect little ears, like they were carved out of ... something." Chronicler laughed, then looked slightly taken aback, as if he'd surprised himself. "Her ears?" he asked as if he couldn't be sure if he had heard correctly. "You know how hard it is to find a pretty girl with the right sort of ears," Bast said matter-of-factly. Chronicler laughed again, seeming to find it easier the second time. "No," he said. "No, I'm sure I don't." Bast gave the story collector a deeply pitying look. "Well then, you'll just have to take my word for it. They were exceptionally fine. — Patrick Rothfuss

Funny story: I was hanging out with Adam Shankman for Samantha Ronson's birthday, and Lance Bass was there. I don't really know Lance, but he comes over to me and goes, 'Hey, I just wanted to let you know I'm a fan of 'Pretty Little Liars' and I'm rooting for your character.' It was surreal! That's how 'PLL' has changed my life. — Ryan Guzman

Did you finish yours, Kota?"
"Working on it now, Actually."
"How's it going?"
He sat up, turning in his chair and holding up his notebook. "I don't know. What rhymes with formaldehyde?"
My eyes widened. Gabriel laughed, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. "Dude, what kind of poem are you writing?"
Kota blinked at us. "It's about a doctor."
"Does the doctor fall in love?" Gabriel asked.
"No."
"Does someone die?"
"Not in the story, technically."
"What does he do?"
"He performs an autopsy. — C.L.Stone

He extended a finger to her face, the simple gesture bringing into play the sleek muscles of his shoulders and arms. You are so beautiful, so adorable. I know full well you're my doom, and I don't care. — Chris Lange

I think of a person I haven't seen or thought of for years, and ten minutes later I see her crossing the street. I turn on the radio to hear a voice reading the biblical story of Jael, which is the story that I have spent the morning writing about. A car passes me on the road, and its license plate consists of my wife's and my initials side by side. When you tell people stories like that, their usual reaction is to laugh. One wonders why.
I believe that people laugh at coincidence as a way of relegating it to the realm of the absurd and of therefore not having to take seriously the possibility that there is a lot more going on in our lives than we either know or care to know. Who can say what it is that's going on? But I suspect that part of it, anyway, is that every once and so often we hear a whisper from the wings that goes something like this: You've turned up in the right place at the right time. You're doing fine. Don't ever think that you've been forgotten. — Frederick Buechner

Why you frettin', Jo? You not sure?"
I inhaled my tears in order to speak. "I'm sure I want to go, but I'm not sure it's possible.Why would they accept me? And if they did, how would I pay for it? I don't want to get my hopes up only to be disappointed. I'm always disappointed."
"Now don't let fear keep you in New Orleans. Sometimes we set off down a road thinkin' we're goin' one place and we end up another. But that's okay. The important thing is to start. I know you can do it. Come on, Josie girl, give those ol' wings a try."
"Willie doesn't want me to."
"So what, you gonna stay here just so you can clean her house and run around with all the naked crazies in the Quarter? You got a bigger story than that. — Ruta Sepetys

The tale begins well before my time. It's common knowledge, among the locals, that the woods stretching between Swinford and Corbinsdale are cursed." "Cursed," Brooke scoffed. "Ignorance and superstition are the true curses. Their remedy is education. Don't you sponsor a school on this estate, Denny?" "It's a story," Portia said. "Even schoolchildren know the difference. And they could teach you something about imagination. Your cynicism is not only tiresome, but pitiable." "You pity me? How amusing." "Pity won't get you on my list." "Really?" Brooke smirked. "It seems to have worked for Lord Merritt." Enough — Tessa Dare

Dustfinger inspected his reddened fingers and felt the taut skin. 'He might tell me how my story ends,' he murmured.
Meggie looked at him in astonishment. 'You mean you don't know?'
Dustfinger smiled. Meggie still didn't particularly like his smile. It seemed to appear only to hide something else. 'What's so unusual about that, princess?' he asked quietly. 'Do you know how your story ends?'
Meggie had no answer for that. — Cornelia Funke