Stories Quotes
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I don't want to think that the stories are finite; I want to feel that they can go on forever.
Steven Moffat
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Myths are stories about people who become too big for their lives temporarily, so that they crash into other lives or brush against gods. In crisis their souls are visible.
Anne Carson
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Over the weeks I am surprised to find that the more stories I record and the longer I carry them around, the lighter they become. I find out that the difference between knowing something and being able to talk about it is that there we many hands now, and we all share the burden...
Brigid Pasulka
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This story of loss and regaining of identity is, I think, the framework of all literature.
Northrop Frye
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I hate acting when I see it. I don't want to feel it, I don't want to see it, I want to be taken away with the story - I don't want the actor's ego in front of me. That's what I try to live when I do the work.
Rutger Hauer
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I was watching him crawl, Back over the wall-! Then bang! Crash! And the lightning flash! And- well, that's another story, Never mind- Anyway.
Stephen Sondheim
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Unless we tell stories about ourselves, which is all that theater is, we're in deep trouble.
Alan Rickman
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It's the form it takes when it comes out the other side, of course, that gives a story something unique--its life. The story, in the way it has arrived at what it is on the page, has been something learned, by dint of the story's challenge and the work that rises to meet it--a process as uncharted for the writer as if it had never been attempted before.
Eudora Welty
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I would say what was always on her[Harper Lee] mind was the stories she had to tell, and the story was pretty obvious in "To Kill A Mockingbird," maybe a bit - little bit less obvious and more obscure in "Go Set A Watchman."
Wayne Flynt
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Stories are a kind of thing, too. Stories and objects share something, a patina. I thought I had this clear, two years ago before I started, but I am no longer sure how this works. Perhaps a patina is a process of rubbing back so that the essential is revealed, the way that a striated stone tumbled in a river feels irreducible, the way that this netsuke of a fox has become little more than a memory of a nose and a tail. But it also seems additive, in the way that a piece of oak furniture gains over years and years of polishing, and the way the leaves of my medlar shine.
Edmund de Waal
