Beautiful Writing Quotes

“I’m not sure. But there’s something about the darkness, the stillness of this hour, I think, that creates a language of its own. There’s a strange kind of freedom in the dark; a terrifying vulnerability we allow ourselves at exactly the wrong moment, tricked by the darkness into thinking it will keep our secrets. We forget that the blackness is not a blanket; we forget that the sun will soon rise. But in the moment, at least, we feel brave enough to say things we’d never say in the light.”
― Tahereh Mafi, Ignite Me

“It was one of those early spring days where the winter had fought its way back in a relentless pursuit to stay in the limelight, even though it knew its days were numbered.”
― Jasun Ether, The Beasts of Success

“I wasn't sure what I'd done to deserve such a wonderful gift, and I wasn't sure if it was insolent, but I thanked God for fallen angels.”
― Jamie McGuire, Providence

“His dear face, dear to her, dearer still. how could she love his face more for its damage? What kind of person saw someone's suffering and felt her heart crack open even wider, even more sweetly than before?
There was something wrong with her. It was wrong to want to touch a scar and call it beautiful.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Becoming hurts.”
― Kat Howard

“How do you make that choice?" I ask almost to myself. "Between what you need and what you want?" I feel like my sister's going through her own version of that. Kris's eyes are on Cooper, too. "You hope they become the same thing, I guess.”
― Karen M. McManus, One of Us Is Next

“Sometimes I wore smiles but didn’t feel them. Sometimes I felt them and didn’t wear them. I didn’t want her to know how much I craved this. I bit my bottom lip.”
― Penelope Douglas, Rival

“I suppose you think you know what autumn looks like. Even if you live in the Los Angeles dreamed of by September’s schoolmates, you have surely seen postcards and photographs of the kind of autumn I mean. The trees go all red and blazing orange and gold, and wood fires burn at night so everything smells of crisp branches. The world rolls about delightedly in a heap of cider and candy and apples and pumpkins and cold stars rush by through wispy, ragged clouds, past a moon like a bony knee. You have, no doubt, experienced a Halloween or two.
Autumn in Fairyland is all that, of course. You would never feel cheated by the colors of a Fairyland Forest or the morbidity of a Fairyland moon. And the Halloween masks! Oh, how they glitter, how they curl, how their beaks and jaws hook and barb! But to wander through autumn in Fairyland is to look into a murky pool, seeing only a hazy reflection of the Autumn Provinces’ eternal fall. And human autumn is but a cast-off photograph of that reflecting pool, half burnt and drifting through the space between us and Fairyland.
And so I may tell you that the leaves began to turn red as September and her friends rushed through the suddenly cold air on their snorting, roaring high wheels, and you might believe me. But no red you have ever seen could touch the crimson bleed of the trees in that place. No oak gnarled and orange with October is half as bright as the boughs that bent over September’s head, dropping their hard, sweet acorns into her spinning spokes. But you must try as hard as you can. Squeeze your eyes closed, as tight as you can, and think of all your favorite autumns, crisp and perfect, all bound up together like a stack of cards. That is what it is like, the awful, wonderful brightness of Fairy colors. Try to smell the hard, pale wood sending up sharp, green smoke into the afternoon. To feel to mellow, golden sun on your skin, more gentle and cozier and more golden than even the light of your favorite reading nook at the close of the day.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making

“I will wait by the gate until I see your face. I have waited a decade, haven't I, in this limited life? Waiting in the endless one would be no sacrifice. And Inshallah one day, I know I will see you approaching. You will look just as you did at twenty, that year you first left us, and I will also be as I was in my youth. We will look like brothers on that day. We will walk together, as equals.”
― Fatima Farheen Mirza, A Place for Us

“Sometimes I wondered if the angels talked to get me to behave or to entice the devil to come out to play.”
― Penelope Douglas, Rival

“The thing is, Fallon . . . I told you before to lock the door if you wanted me to stay out. Funny thing is . . .” I leaned in. “You. Never. Did.”
― Penelope Douglas, Rival

“All we had was her room, her stories, and the quiet that settled in as we tried in vain to spread ourselves out and fill the space she'd left behind.”
― Sarah Dessen, Dreamland

“Madoc was always calm, after all. So calm all the damn time growing up. He didn’t shout or show his anger until he’d had enough. And you never knew exactly when that was going to be. That was the scary part about him.”
― Penelope Douglas, Rival

“But that was two years ago. She wasn’t sexy to me anymore. Now she was lethal.”
― Penelope Douglas, Rival

“He was here. We were alone. We were angry. Déjà vu.”
― Penelope Douglas, Rival

“She saw an intensity in his stunning irises, something desperate straining against his control, and she swore in that moment she could almost feel his soul pressing against hers.”
― Tahereh Mafi, These Infinite Threads

“I love the sight of his naked body.
especially in these quiet, vulnerable moments. These brackets of time stapled between dreams and reality are my favorite. There's a sweetness in this hesitant consciousness - a careful, gentle return of form of function, I've found I love these minutes most for the delicate way in which they unfold. It's tender.
Slow motion.
Time tying its shoes.”
― Tahereh Mafi, Restore Me

“He was soft and slow, gentle and attentive. Possessive.”
― Penelope Douglas, Rival

“The river was so blue it seemed to be breathing.”
― Brian Morton, Breakable You

“...en av de mänskliga rättigheterna måste vara den att för en tid få
dra sig undan allt som händer och sitta så här vid sidan av skeendet,
få vända världen ryggen ett ögonblick medan solen lyser och hjärtat fortsätter att dunka.”
― Per Anders Fogelström, Stad i världen

“Every things fuzzy now,but I try to stay awake long enough to tell him one more thing.
"glad you . . .see. . .my colors caspian."
" me too abbey," he said softly. "sweet dreams.”
― Jessica Verday, The Haunted

“A stilted heron labored up into the air and pounded down the river.”
― John Steinbeck, Of Mice and Men

“Fallon affected my body in weird ways. But only because she’s different, I told myself.”
― Penelope Douglas, Rival

“But we were different now. I wanted only his pain, and judging from the girl he’d come home with last night, Madoc was still the same. A user.”
― Penelope Douglas, Rival

“Never miss an opportunity of noticing anything of beauty ...”
― Ralph Waldo Emerson, Nature Walking

“When a bone breaks, it heals stronger in the cracks. I realize this is what is happening to her heart.”
― Nayomi Munaweera, Island of a Thousand Mirrors

“Under the gas lamps, mist pawed at the windows of the closed shops, which became steadily shabbier nearer home. It was such a smooth ruination that he could have been walking forward through time, watching the same buildings age five years with every step, all still as a museum”
― Natasha Pulley, The Watchmaker of Filigree Street

“The closest I’d ever got to seeing a naked woman before was black and white cleavage, and then Rosie tossed her clothes in a corner just like they were getting in the way and spun around in the dim light of Number 16, palms up, luminous, laughing, almost close enough to touch. The thought still knocks the wind out of me. I was too young even to know what I wanted to do about her, I just knew nothing in the World, not the Mona Lisa walking through the Grand Canyon with the Holy Grail in one hand and a winning lotto ticket in the other, was ever going to be that beautiful.”
― Tana French, Faithful Place

“Psipsina emerged from inside the tunic, and jumped up on the table in order to curl up inside the cap, which had been her favourite resting place ever since she discovered the joys of contortionism; she filled it and overflowed from it in such a tangle and jumble of whiskers, ears, tail and paws that it was impossible to tell which part of her was which, and she slept in it because it reminded her of gifts of salami and chicken skins.”
― Louis de Bernières, Corelli’s Mandolin

“Unfortunately, the more my mind's eye sees green and gold, the more drained of all colour does the twilight seem.”
― Dodie Smith, I Capture the Castle