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Literary Fiction Quotes

Browse 431 quotes about Literary Fiction.

Literary Fiction Quotes

“The thing about studying ancient history is that it rips away the comforting illusions of progress. People love to think we've evolved, that we've left behind the savagery of our ancestors. But have we? Sure, we've built taller buildings, faster machines, systems so complex I can't even begin to comprehend them. But at our core, we're still the same selfish, short-sighted creatures we've always been.”

PhilosophyLossGriefFamilyHistoryRelationshipEmotionalIsolationExistentialismLiterary Fiction
Author:Sasha Harding
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“Tears began to fall, hot and relentless, tracing tracks down my face. I didn't even try to stop them. I didn’t even know why I was crying. Maybe it was the pain. The tears kept coming, a relentless tide. My throat ached, my head pounded, and my body felt like it was caving in on itself. For a moment, I hoped that I might just pass out. Anything to make it stop.”

PhilosophyLossGriefFamilyRelationshipEmotionalIsolationExistentialismLiterary Fiction
Author:Sasha Harding
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“There once was this man who found himself talking to his son. He had often told the boy stories of heroes and villains, good and evil. He began by saying that all of us—even himself—had these two sides of ourselves fighting with each other, these two wolves. And these two wolves? They're always fighting. One was all that was pure in the world—the light, the hope, and the sanctuary. The other was all that was bad in the world—the dark, the despair, and the revenge. This same fight is going on inside of you, son... and inside of every other person on this earth. And this fight isn't just once; it's constant, happening every day." Her voice softened, and I could almost picture her sitting cross-legged on the floor, her expression thoughtful as she relayed the story. "What happens after that?" I asked hoarsely, my chest still tight but my mind began to quiet, drawn into her words despite myself. "The little boy in the story asks which wolf wins," she continued, her tone, a warmth so faint it was nearly imperceptible. "And his father looked at him and says, 'The one you feed.”

PhilosophyRelationshipEmotionalStorytellingIsolationExistentialismLiterary FictionTales Family
Author:Sasha Harding
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“Some people will tell you that Toronto, in the summer, is the nothing more than a cesspool of pollution, garbage, and the smells of a hundred ethnicities competing for top spot in a race won historically by curry, garlic, and the occasional cauldron of boiled cabbage. Take a walk down College Street West, Gerrard Street East, or the Danforth, and you'll see; then, they add—these people, complaining—that the stench is so pervasive, so incorrigible, nor merely for lack of wind, but for the ninety-nine percent humidity, which, after a rainstorm, adds an eradicable bottom-note of sweaty Birkenstocks and the organic tang of decaying plant life. This much is true; there is, however, more to the story. Take a walk down the same streets and you'll find racks of the most stunning saris—red with navy brocade, silver, canary, vermillion and chocolate; marts with lahsun and adrak, pyaz and pudina; windows of gelato, zeppole, tiramisu; dusty smoke shops with patio-bistros; you'll find dove-white statuary of Olympian goddesses, mobs in blue jerseys, primed for the World Cup—and more, still, the compulsory banter of couples who even after forty years can turn foul words into the bawdiest, more unforgettable laughter (and those are just the details). Beyond them is the container, the big canvas brushed with parks and valleys and the interminable shore; a backdrop of ferries and islands, gulls and clouds—sparkles of a million wave-tips as the sun decides which colours to leave on its journey to new days. No, Toronto, in the summer, is the most paradisiacal place in the world.”

DiversityLiterary FictionTorontoBeauty In NatureDescriptive Prose
Book:Paradise
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“As Aristocleia raised her cup to toast Xanthippus, her gown slipped from her shoulders, exquisite as Aphrodite’s, and flowed like the water that slid over her naked breasts when she allowed him to watch her bathe. It was wonderful to possess a gem of a woman. It made a man feel beautiful and godlike himself, briefly.”

LoveActionRomanceFictionDramaEntertainingLiterary FictionEnchantment5th Century Bc
Book:Pericles and Aspasia: A Story of Ancient Greece
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“Chase looked like a drowning man without a life preserver, and by the look in his eyes, he was going under for the third time. “I knew you would be like the waters of the South Pacific Ocean.” “I beg your pardon?” “I liken people to different bodies of water,” he quickly explained. “You what?” “Each ocean has a different personality,” he said to clarify. “The Pacific Ocean is warmer and inviting, but the color is muddied in places. The Arctic Ocean is cold and very uninviting, one might even say that it is not very appealing, but it’s full of life. Then there is the South Pacific Ocean, warm, inviting, and crystal clear. It has this purity to it. Why, the coloring of the water is some of the brightest blue I’ve ever seen in my entire life. There are even places that you can see thirty meters down.”

LoveRomanceFictionHumourDramaLiterary FictionAdult RomanceNew Adult FictionRomance FictionRomance Literature
Book:A Compromising Position
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“The results of five experiments involving more than a thousand participants showed that reading literary fiction improves our ability to detect and understand other people's emotions. But it can't be any sort of fiction. The researchers distinguished between "popular fiction" (where the author leads you by the hand as a reader) and "literary fiction" (in which you must find your own way and fill in the gaps). Instead of being told why a certain character behaves as they do, you have to figure it out yourself. That way, the book becomes not just a simulation of a social experience, it is a social experience.”

EmpathyLiterary Fiction
Book:The Little Book of Lykke: The Danish Search for the World's Happiest People
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“Kiana loved birds," Breena told him late one dusky evening. "When she was just a few summers old, she would run beneath them as they flew, her chubby arms stretched out as if tmo take flight alongside them." She sniffed and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "A few weeks before the attack, she told me that she was still going to fly one day. 'I look at the birds, and I see freedom,' she said. 'To soar above the hurt of the world, to be too high for the wars of men to touch you: that is what it means to fly.”

RomanceDeathFreedomFictionFamilyFantasySadnessMythologyProseLiterary FictionBirdsNovellaIrish MythologyCeltic Mythology
Book:House of the Dead
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“I think that’s the hardest thing about bipolar disorder. You don’t know if you will wake up in the morning and spike a manic episode or if you won’t want to get out bed because you’re in a depressive episode that makes you want to go back to sleep and never see the light of day again. The moment I tell someone I am bipolar, they are shocked. You know, the whole ‘I never would have known because you don’t act like it’s a thing.' It always makes me laugh. ‘What does bipolar look like to you, sir?’ - that’s what I want to say to them.”

RomanceHopeFunFictionLearningDreamsYoung AdultConfusionLiterary FictionQuirky
Book:Live for Me
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“On train trips, Ernie always wanted the window seat. He knew the names of the trees we passed, and the clouds—nacreous, cumulus, nimbus. He was ever vigilant for animal life and appreciative of the tiny patches of humanity along the tracks that exposed the lives of the rail-side dwellers in such intimate detail. “I love sad houses,” he’d say, pointing to a chorus line of discoloured laundry waving at us, to an upturned self-propelled lawnmower, straggly gardens, leaky drainpipes, a rain-weathered pram that had been turned into a wheelbarrow. “The porch lights are on to keep the rats in their dens,” he’d said. To be a voyeur of decay at such close range was as much of an enthrallment as it was a validation of the scarcities in his own backyard. I knew exactly which days Ernie’s mum had had to choose between heating the house and putting food on the table. My mother had been there too. Before the Zipper had given her a leg up.”

ResilienceRedemptionChild AbuseLiterary FictionFriendshipsMentorshipThe Dark Web Saga
Book:Monday Rent Boy
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“At one time or another we are all called to leave the safety of our homes, the certainty of what we know, the illusions of who we are. Not everyone will heed this call, of course. And those who do will risk losing themselves completely. But if we choose to ignore the invitation, we risk never knowing who we might have become. We risk dying without knowing what it is to live.”

Inspirational QuotesLife QuotesCourageJourneySelf DiscoveryLiterary FictionQuestSpiritual FictionHero S JourneyContemplative Fiction
Book:Painted Oxen
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