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Short Story Collection Quotes

Browse 50 quotes about Short Story Collection.

Short Story Collection Quotes

“A German was looking through a blown-out window framed by red brick and seemed to be waving something. A block-headed Russian pulled up and shot him through the forehead. The blood ran down over his eye socket and dripped off his high cheekbone and seeped into the pulverized masonry fragments. ~ The Jackass in The Road”

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Book:Land of the Story Tellers: 24 Stories and 7 Poems
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“Inside a wool jacket the man had made a pocket for the treasure and from time to time he would jiggle the pocket, just to make sure that it was still there. And when on the train he rode to work he would jiggle it there also, but he would disguise his jiggling of the treasure on the train by devising a distraction. For example, the man would pretend to be profoundly interested in something outside the train, such as the little girl who seemed to be jumping high up on a trampoline, just high enough so that she could spy the man on the train, and in this way he really did become quite interested in what occurred outside the train, although he would still jiggle the treasure, if only out of habit. Also on the train he'd do a crossword puzzle and check his watch by rolling up his sleeve; when he did so he almost fell asleep. Antoine often felt his life to be more tedious with this treasure, because in order not to be overly noticed he had deemed it wise to fall into as much a routine as possible and do everything as casually as possible, and so, as a consequence, despite the fact that he hated his wife and daughter, he didn't leave them, he came home to them every night and he ate the creamed chicken that his wife would prepare for him, he would accept the large, fleshy hand that would push him around while he sat around in his house in an attempt to read or watch the weather, he took out the trash, he got up on time every morning and took a quick, cold shower, he shaved, he accepted the cold eggs and orange juice and coffee, he picked the newspaper off the patio and took it inside with him to read her the top headlines, and of course he went to the job.”

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Author:Justin Dobbs
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“Then there's nothing left but the long quiet. Far in the distance, haze rises from the desert and dances ghostly against the sun. Even when things are hazy and out of reach, we find comfort in the stories we tell each other to keep our hearts beating. There is beauty in that, at least.”

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Book:The Kindness of Terrible People and Other Stories
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“Sometimes Evelyn got stuck on a word, using it for everything until it started to mean nothing and everything. This week, it was “world.” Everything was the world. The world was everything. It made sense from that vantage point, but the previous week, it had been “wax,” which had the bonus quality of being both a noun and a verb. I waxed her breakfast of wax and then had the wax to give her wax when she really wanted the world. World? Whirled. Whorled. Were Eld. Was she working her way through the dictionary? It was like the language of flowers, a song heard in a different lifetime.”

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Book:Entry Level
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“He cradles the egg like treasure and shows me the catalog of the Viking bearded seal figurines. Before this series, Kinder launched the Russian bears, the Canadian caribou, the French poodles—I remember a mime, a pastry chef, and a can-can dancer with a jaunty red beret—the Majorcan hedgehogs, and the Egyptian camels, painted to resemble the gods of hieroglyphs. Ridiculous trinkets forming an international circus of moronic animals.”

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Book:The Kindness of Terrible People and Other Stories
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“When they reached their ship, Ed gazed out at the bay. It was black. The sky was black, but the bay was even blacker. It was a slick, oily blackness that glowed and reflected the moonlight like a black jewel. Ed saw the tiny specks of light around the edges of the bay where he knew ships must be docked, and at different points within the bay where vessels would be anchored. The lights were pale and sickly yellow when compared with the bright blue-white sparkle of the stars overhead, but the stars glinted hard as diamonds, cold as ice. Pg. 26.”

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Book:Once upon a Decade: Tales of the Fifties
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“On the street, cars hurtled toward their destinations in a symphony of sound. Trees lined the pavement in a powerful show of survival: here they stood in this urban landscape, long-limbed and capable. And green, so green, sunlight pierced through their leaves and marked the concrete with dappled grays. I made my way home to my family, one among a million travelers crossing the city’s great canvas in quick strokes. Everywhere there were colors by the thousands—tint upon tint, shade after shade—of everything the spectrum of beauty satisfied. Everywhere, there were signs of the renewal and restoration of life.”

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Book:The Kindness of Terrible People and Other Stories
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“We should follow every supply that runs into the particular lake below, going upstream in terms of we can. When we do not find Drakes’ path, or even an additional, we should come back straight along,look yourself upward an additional way to obtain foods,and then do a similar for the next water for the south.”

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Book:Hill's Adventure
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“Short story collections are the literary equivalent of canapés, tapas and mezze in the world of gastronomy: Delightful assortments of tasty morsels to whet the reader's appetite.”

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Book:Impromptu Scribe
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“And, thus we went out. We talked. Briefly. Intensely. Being as open as we could. Judging as little as possible. For an hour or less. Every day or every alternate day. Over the last month or so. We talked till we parted. Initially, we found our time too short and childishly expressed that we would look forward to our next chat. Then we saw the value of speaking face-to-face, in a city that hardly spoke. We cherished our little time. Our conversations grew deeper. We set them free. And returning home felt less shackling. We shared nothing more. An accidental touch of fingers, or a wrist held while crossing the road, or an arm around the shoulder, rather barely above it, scraping the thin air. But we didn’t hold hands. We didn’t hug. We hadn’t so far. Though we both wanted it. So badly.”

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Book:Afsaane - A Collection of Short Stories
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“For one… If you shoot me and your boss realizes it was without good reason, you’ll have fucked up your trial period. And trust me; I know you’re still in it.” Ian pulled open a drawer in a small brown cabinet. “Secondly, it could end very badly for me and I’d rather prevent that. Getting shot is not on my list of things to do today.” He wrapped his hand around the steel grip of his own weapon and removed it from the drawer. “And last but not least, if you plan to shoot me… Well, it’ll be a matter of which of us is quicker and has better aim.” A pleasant smile crossed his features and he casually waved the gun from side to side. “Do you want to risk it?”

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Book:Under the Stairs
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“This was getting uglier by the minute, I thought. There really was no easy escape, since we were sitting far from the exit and the waiters knew me from prior dinner dates with Ashley and I hadn't paid the tab yet. From: "My Worst Valentine's Day.Ever: a Short Story”

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Book:Stories and Scripts: an Anthology
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“I hated seeing these spasmodic upside-down chicken heads stretching to puncture my flesh. I imagined once that they reached my groin and pecked out my penis and my huevos and kept pecking until they got to my gut and my eyes and my brain, until I was just a pecked-out piece of human meat surrounded by thousands of nervous, dirty white chickens. I think that was about the time I fucked up a pair of chicken heads against a warehouse wall when no one was looking. Well, almost no one. Rueben was right behind me, and that's when he grinned his stupid grin. Maybe he hated the chickens as much as I did. Maybe he just knew que ya me iba también a la chingada. Maybe I was going on my first joy ride to hell and back, and it was fun to watch.”

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Book:The Last Tortilla & Other Stories
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“Her boy—this child she raised on her own, in whom she placed her purest faith, to whom she read on countless evenings books he loved, which she found dull, for whom she baked special birthday cakes in the shapes of superheroes, and with whom she whooped and hollered around the backyard while pointing cowboy sticks against darkening skies—was no longer her ally. Bang, bang.”

LoveMotherhoodShort StoryGrowing PainsParenting TeensShort Story CollectionMothers And Sons
Book:The Kindness of Terrible People and Other Stories
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“These days, you might bump into long-time friends, old acquaintances, or just casual acquaintances and schedule a catch-up session, but the disappointing thing is that the conversations are shallow and surface-level. superficial, if you will. Where do you work now? Which neighborhood do you live in? How much money do you make? Are you driving? Oh, really, which make and model? I find it shallow. Few are those who dare ask whether you're happy and how you're faring mentally and spiritually. What's the point of accumulating all the materialism and riches this world has to offer if you’re still unhappy inside? Certainly, I understand that it makes life easier and whatnot. However, I think having genuine and deep conversations goes a long way toward forming better human connections. It’s refreshing.”

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Book:Pent Up Thoughts
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“Love takes no pause and nor should one, if given this, a chance of into heaven glimpsed. For like life, fickle can love be; like time, waits on none to come or be undone. When nothing makes sense, illogical is the sense, for nothing without purpose, these tempestuous life journeys always have a reason, though the “why” of it may not be seen immediately.”

Life QuotesLove QuotesLiterary FictionSoul JourneyShort Story Collection
Book:FOREVER IS ONLY AS LONG AS IT LASTS: A Short Story Collection
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“Summoning my inner Kojak, I tried to convince myself that she would have sat next to me even had there been somewhere else on the bus to sit. Unfortunately, I didn't do a very good job of self-persuasion. Good thing I wasn't in court suing myself, because I would have lost. From: "My Best Valentine's Day.Ever: A Short Story”

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Book:Stories and Scripts: an Anthology
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“So I'm delighted to open up a bit about these particular details, in honor of Valentine's Day (when every balding, chubby, and short actuary wants people - especially the babes out there - to know about his studly past" From: "My Best Valentine's Day.Ever: a Short Story”

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Book:Stories and Scripts: an Anthology
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“He only moved to his own impulses, leaving his wife a cold, lonely and withered woman. This bothered Clarita for years -- how her father treated her mother with a lack of emotion, of connection. Santos never beat her mother, but he would give her a devastating look that caused her to wilt like a water-starved flower. Clarita recalled how as a little girl, she hid away in her room, beneath blankets surrounded by dirt-caked dolls, distressed that Santos would come in and destroy her with such a look.”

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Book:The Republic of East L.A.
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“You might think the desert dreams of the sea, but I think deserts dream of other deserts, scorched spaces just like themselves. With them, they don’t feel so alien, so bizarre. They don’t have the bother of explaining—the way they would with the sea—how it is they’re all sand and rock and sagebrush and how the only sound is the wind across the earth.”

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Book:The Only Sound Is the Wind: Stories
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“In Gretons-sur-Mer, the villagers, through the auspicious care of the Bouletiers, returned to their human form. Sometimes they wondered, looking at their reflection on the surface of water or on the rounded shine of a pewter pitcher, if a part of them had remained beastly, if the whiskers atop their lips had been there before. They wondered, stroking the spot, and mused on their transformation, to that time of war when the fabric of life was briefly woven with magic.”

TransformationShort StoryWomen S FictionFableShort Story CollectionBrittanyNapoleonic WarsCrozon
Book:The Kindness of Terrible People and Other Stories
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“Ást mín á Arnóri hefur engan stað til að fara á núna. Stundum vildi ég að ég gæti fangað hana, lokað hana inni, en þá veit ég að ég myndi ég sakna hennar. Núna streymir hún bara frá mér í allar áttir hvenær sem er – kemur stundum út í tárum, stundum í brosi. Ég vildi að Arnór gæti séð mig núna. Ég held hann yrði stoltur. Hann sá eitthvað í mér sem enginn annar sá. Eitthvað sem fékk hann til að brosa í hvert skipti sem hann sá mig. Og ég bíð stundum eftir því að sjá hann birtast í dyragættinni heima hjá mér, eða úti einhvers staðar, á bar eða eitthvað, og brosa þessu breiða brosi sínu. Ég sver það er það fallegasta sem ég hef séð.”

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Book:Sara og Dagný og ég
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“I stood transfixed, the silence ringing in my ears. From the field of wild grasses; cocksfoot, tufted hair, wild oat, tall fescue, reed canary and perennial rye, their subtle shades of green, ochre and pink softly patching and blending in rustling movement, suddenly rose a small flock of starlings that had been feeding quietly unseen among the tall waving stems, the swish of their glossy wings startlingly loud in the stillness of midday. Heat held me captive.”

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Author:Nell Grey
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“Thank you father, thank you. I know you watched me from above and protected me. I promise I shall serve the Magnarian Confederation with all my body and soul. I shall dedicate myself fully to our confederation, the family that you so loved. And I love it too. I shall protect, love and respect it always. This is my promise and commitment. Thank you”

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Book:War Between Two Powerful Nations
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