#fictional

It is perhaps both a blessing and a curse that fictional worlds spring into my mind nearly fully formed and it takes quite a while to sift through everything to find the story. ↗

— Erin Morgenstern

#both #curse #everything #fictional #find

In every film, whether it's a fictional character or not, you create an idea of the character and for me I always do a bad impersonation to start with. ↗

— Joaquin Phoenix

#bad #character #create #every #fictional

We, being the Western world, wouldn't let Russia off the hook on debt. So there were demands on debt servicing in the early days until they ran out of reserves. There was no real aid program, just a fictional aid program. ↗

— Jeffrey Sachs

#aid program #being #days #debt #demands

He's a real nowhere man, Sitting in his Nowhere Land, Making all his nowhere plans for nobody. Doesn't have a point of view, Knows not where he's going to, Isn't he a bit like you and me? ↗

— The Beatles

#existence #fictional-character #lack-of-motivation #music #music-lyrics

How could you fall in love with a three inch worm? ↗

— Stephenie Meyer

#humor #romance #humor

Pale hair fell in waves to his shoulders, framing a face mortal females considered a sensual feast. They didn't know the man was actually a devil in angel's skin. They should have, though. He practically glowed with irreverence, and there was an unholy gleam in his green eyes that proclaimed he would laugh in your face while cutting out your heat. Or laugh in your face while you cut out his heart. ↗

— Gena Showalter

#descriptive #fictional #description

She was returning home to be the wife of, mother of, First Lady of, but what did that really mean? ↗

— Stacy Hawkins Adams

#fictional-character #identity-crisis #personal-growth #home

This isn't your world. It's your parents. Your world is still out there, waiting to be discovered. Always remember that. ↗

— Carroll Bryant

#fictional #love #love-story #lovers #romance

Can I kiss you?” And she would let him, lightly on her lips, a moment of brief anticipation. “Your kisses are like sugar woman.” He would tell her affectionately. “So sweet.” He would close in on her and then ask softly, “Please spend the night with me. ↗

— Keira D. Skye

#couples #kiss #kisses #kissing #love

Now, years later, he had been commissioned to fashion pictures with sugar water and dyes, a holiday mural. He had risen into something he could do, he had been recognized, and those years spent enduring his father's impatience seemed far away. He would do it for number 98,761,580, his love whose hand he held, cold as it was, who had lain beside him in the tunnels, in the filth. What had haunted him was the thought of her lovely body wasting away. It had torn at his eyes, his throat. It had taken away his faith. He painted a band of sugar on the walls of the hotel, the mural reflecting the city back to itself - the deep green park, the holiday windows, lovers under golden angels, flowers spilling out of markets in December, a resurrected skyscraper, a choir of variegated faces singing in front of a red door of a dark church, the homeless - not swept away, not forgotten - their realities on their faces, hands, hair. It was not a Rockwell. There were a few artists, subcontractors, who kept trying to abscond with the project, to make it what it wasn't for the sake of something they likened to a good make-believe before bed. -- 'A Potter's Field ↗

— Meg Sefton

#short-stories #faith