“Some of my youthful readers are developing wonderful imaginations. This pleases me. When I was young I longed to write a great novel that should win me fame. Now that I am getting old my first book is written to amuse children. For aside from my evident inability to do anything "great," I have learned to regard fame as a will-o-the-wisp which, when caught, is not worth the possession; but to please a child is a sweet and lovely thing that warms one's heart and brings its own reward.” ShouldWritingFirstsHeartChildrenBookYoungWinningImaginationNovelWonderfulWrittenSweetReaderPleaseFameRegardRewardsCaughtPossessionLovelyDevelopingI Have LearnedEvidentInabilityGetting OldPlease MeLovely ThingsWispsGreat Novels Author:L. Frank Baum
“I can't remember coming across a more precise evocation of innocence lost since Golding's The Lord of the Flies. With The Death of Sweet Mister, Daniel Woodrell has written his masterpiece-spare, dark, and incandescently beautiful. It broke my heart.” HeartI CanBeautifulRememberLostDarkLordWrittenSweetMy HeartBrokeInnocenceSparesPreciseMasterpieceBroke My Heart Author:Dennis Lehane
“My wife loves written words ... you know, words that stick to parchment and paper like dead flies, and it seems my father felt the same - but I want to hear words! Remember that when you are looking for the right words: You must ask yourself what they SOUND like! Glowing with passion, dark with sorrow, sweet with love, that's what I want. - Cosimo” KnowsWantSeemsRememberPassionAsksFatherFeltSoundDarkWifeWrittenSweetSorrowPaperSticksMy WifeGlowingWritten WordRight WordsWives Love Author:Cornelia Funke
“He sang his last song. And the words of that have never been written down. But it was sweet and of great beauty, and those that heard it were changed utterly. Some say it was the song that moves the stars.” LastsMovingSongStarsWrittenHeardChangedSweetLast Song Author:Catherine Fisher
“Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor? Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from rest. Macbeth: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart. Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself.” MindHeartDoeStuffMemoriesBrainLordWrittenTroubleSweetSorrowDoctorsSickPatientCuresMinistersFancyThickRootedAntidoteBosomsPluckObliviousDiseasedMacbeth PlaySo Sick Book:Four Tragedies: Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, Macbeth Source: Four Tragedies: Hamlet, Othello, King Lear, Macbeth