Poetic Fiction Quotes

“The deep blue of your eyes had secrets. I wanted them.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“There were tiny stars behind my eyelids, a whole galaxy of tiny, spinning stars.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“You saw me before I saw you. In the airport, that day in August, you had that look in your eyes, as though you wanted something from me, as though you’d wanted it for a long time. No one had ever looked at me like that before, with that kind of intensity. It unsettled me, surprised me, I guess. Those blue, blue eyes, icy blue, looking back at me as if I could warm them up. They’re pretty powerful, you know, those eyes, pretty beautiful, too.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“It was like I’d stepped out into an afterlife. Only there were no angels.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“It's been a long time since humans were prey animals. A hundred thousand years or so. But buried deep in our genes the memory remains: the awareness of the gazelle, the instinct of the antelope. The wind whispers through the grass. A shadow flits between the trees. And up speaks the little voice that goes. Shhhh, it's close now. Close.”
― Rick Yancey, The 5th Wave

“I wrapped my arms around me as tightly as I could, and stared up at the stars. Had I not been so cold and wanting to escape so badly, I could have stared at them forever: They were amazingly beautiful, so dense and bright. My eyes could get lost up there if I left them looking long enough. [...] They swallowed me up. They were like a hundred thousand tiny candles, sending out hope.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“I knelt and locked the door. I locked the door locking the world and time outside. I stretched my body across the mattress and Saskia drew in close to me and placed her open hand on my chest, her mouth near my shoulder; her breath, my breath blew out the candle, and I held my lost Wanderess with tenderness until sweet sleep overcame us.”
― Roman Payne, The Wanderess

“Ty?” I said, trying out your name, liking the way it sounded. “So what’s it like anyway? Australia?”
You smiled then, and your whole face changed with it. It kind of lit up, like there were sunbeams coming from inside you.
“You’ll find out,” you said.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“I didn’t want the person standing there, beside the bed, to have the same face I’d found so attractive at the airport. But you were there all right: the blue eyes, blondish hair, and tiny scar. Only you didn’t look beautiful this time. Just evil.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“The sand stretched out gray and ghostlike and illuminated, a column of light leading forward. It was like something a dead person would see, a tunnel leading toward heaven.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“I remember the lights turning into blurs of blazing fire. I remember the air-conditioning chilling my arms. The smell of coffee smudging into the smell of eucalyptus.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“The sun was bobbing on the horizon, just peeking over. Its light shimmered on the sand behind you, making your body look like it was glowing … like it had a kind of aura.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“Far, far away something made a single ghostly howl, like a banshee in the dark.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“It's better to have nothing,' the children were saying.”
― Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

“Your beautiful mouth was moving like a caterpillar. I reached out and tried to catch it.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“There were tiny rainbows in that glass. I turned it so a rainbow danced across my hand.”
― Lucy Christopher, Stolen

“I was working the hole with the Sailor and we did not bad fifteen cents on average night boosting the afternoons and short timing the dawn we made out from the land of the free but I was running out of veins.”
― William S. Burroughs, The Soft Machine

“But the nice man had cold eyes. When interacting with his fascinated lady-harem, they had been blue. But when he turned his attention to me - however briefly - I could have sworn that they turned gray, the color of water beneath a sky from which snow will soon fall.”
― Stephen King, 11/22/63

“The train's doors closed with a matron's shush.”
― Kevin Ansbro, The Fish That Climbed a Tree

“The dust of thirty years hung lifeless in shafts of morning light, the gilding of perfectly prim pages shone incanescent, the shriek of rolling ladders mourned in perennial soliloquy.”
― Michelle Franklin, Tales from Frewyn: Volume 2

“There is no shape to the feeling that has gripped me, no name. Manifested in amorphous sensations and rippling currents – bringing one moment a tear, then a smile; there is no comprehending this wave. A hummingness courses through my mind.”
― Radhika Mukherjee, Broken Shadows

“Ódinn couldn't tear his gaze from the small featured face, the red cheeks and delicate lips that she pursed shut as if to ensure she wouldn't say anything to disappoint her father.”
― Yrsa Sigurðardóttir, Kuldi

“She thought of the little disks hidden in her closet and under her bed and at the back of her drawers. They were her secret. The disks she made let her hold those times and remember them forever. Like putty her father had used to fill the nick in the cupboard, her disks dilled the empty space that was left behind wen a moment was over. Her mother and father could never find them.”
― Wendy McGrath, North East

“Leave me alone,
Do me a favor, abandon me,
I want to think about,
You me and the idea of forever.”
― Rohit Hora

“Was that—did she just grin at me? To me? A moment of stillness in this moment of pause. Without speaking, we let our gazes wander slow, groping to confirm relief in the other. There's a subdued excitement for the oncoming sharing of whatever's waiting for us behind that heavy iron door, exclusive—two solitary embers, isolated in their separate pits, far away but fanned by the same wind, the same night, alone with the night, their respective camps all gone to sleep, flaring softly cradled calling, out against the great dark backdrop of the great unknown.”
― Patrick Bryant

“Dragged from your room. A red crease of sleep visible down your cheek, eyes foggy with the adjustment from a state of rest to a state of arrest. You said nothing. Even when your face was mashed into the carpet, your rights read out, their knees and elbows pressed in your back. Your nightie rode high up your thighs. No underwear. The indignity of it all.”
― Ali Land, Good Me, Bad Me

“The train’s doors closed with a matron’s shush.”
― Kevin Ansbro, The Fish That Climbed a Tree

“Christine had gone into the city archives, found them in an old City of Edmonton telephone book. Her family was in a book. Her family and herself were defined by a street, an avenue, and a phone number. This line of type will rearrange itself into a story of ghosts in that place. A story of her ghost. Christine thought of herself as a child, with no idea of the world but all the ideas of the world. Maybe this was her dream self. She wasn't sure anymore.”
― Wendy McGrath, Broke City

“Cresci nas margens do rio Amazonas, navegando em sua vastidão e conhecendo o coração da grande floresta. Desde menina sabia que meu lugar era ali, em meio às frondosas árvores, em meio às águas profundas, em meio à terra e ao povo que aprendi a amar e que ofereciam tudo o que era necessário: sombra, abrigo, alimento.”
― Hayanna K. F. Santos, Raízes, Lendas & Sangue - Uma Releitura do Folclore Brasileiro

“Me ajustei no colchão como se estivesse em um campo de dentes-de-leão, percebendo que a maciez efêmera do conforto ao despertar logo se dissiparia como delicadas flores ao mero sopro.”
― Natalia Avila, A Canção dos Desejos Esquecidos