#prose

I've been told by the prosecutors and by my own attorneys I should go to law school. I guess I have a knack for it. ↗

— Monica Lewinsky

#been #go #guess #i #knack

If geography is prose, maps are iconography. ↗

— Lennart Meri

#iconography #maps #prose

He decided to plunge on with pardons over the department's objections, or where he knew that there would be objections if he had let career prosecutors know what he was doing. ↗

— Barbara Olson

#decided #department #doing #had #knew

I want to burn with excitement or anger and bleed, bleed out my words. I want to get all fucked up and write raw and ugly about all these things I see and am and could be. ↗

— Charlotte Eriksson

#artists #excitement #on-the-road #prose #raw

But aren't all great quests folly? El Dorado and the Fountain of Youth and the search for intelligent life in the cosmos-- we know what's out there. It's what isn't that truly compels us. Technology may have shrunk the epic journey to a couple of short car rides and regional jet lags-- four states and twelve hundred miles traversed in an afternoon-- but true quests aren't measured in time or distance anyway, so much as in hope. There are only two good outcomes for a quest like this, the hope of the serendipitous savant-- sail for Asia and stumble on America-- and the hope of scarecrows and tin men: that you find out you had the thing you sought all along. ↗

— Jess Walter

#beauty

He was a compact, clearcut man, with precise features, a lot of very soft black hair, and thoughtful dark brown eyes. He had a look of wariness, which could change when he felt relaxed or happy, which was not often in these difficult days, into a smile of amused friendliness and pleasure which aroused feelings of warmth, and something more, in many women. ↗

— A.S. Byatt

#character-development #characteristics #description #prose #change

I am young now and can look upon my body and soul with pride. But it will be mangled soon, and later it will begin to disintegrate, and then I shall die, and die conclusively. How can we face such a fact, and not live in fear? ↗

— Jack Kerouac

#beat #death-and-dying #early-stories-and-other-writings #fear-of-death #fleeting-life

i could have told him to learn from Gatsby. from the lonely, isolated Gatsby, who also tried to retrieve his past and give flash and blood to a fancy, a dream that was never meant to be more than a dream. ↗

— Azar Nafisi

#dreams

The bar staff and croupiers all wore black with the same green triangle logo emblazoned on their shirts, and contact lenses which made their eyes shine an eerie, vibrant green. The bar optics glowed with the same green light, the intensity of which was linked to the music. As the bartender walked away to fetch the drinks, a breakdown in the techno track commenced and the bottles began to palpitate. The bartender's eyes glowed with a hallucinatory felinity that made Mangle feel nervous. ↗

— R.D. Ronald

#eerie-attraction #hallucinatory #music

Poetry is the language of the soul; Poetic Prose, the language of my heart. Each line must flow as in a song, and strike a chord that rings forever. To me, words are music! ↗

— Lori R. Lopez

#poetic-prose #poetry #song #writing-style #music