You build a character, a shell, and if you build it right, something comes to live inside it.

Elizabeth Hand


Go to quote


If the retreat house was a trap, it was a very nice one.

Elizabeth Hand

Tags: funny



Go to quote


But talent—if you don't encourage it, if you don't train it, it dies. It might run wild for a little while, but it will never mean anything. Like a wild horse. If you don't tame it and teach it to run on track, to pace itself and bear a rider, it doesn't matter how fast it is. It's useless.

Elizabeth Hand

Tags: talent meaning ability



Go to quote


Endless longing; a face you'd known since childhood, since birth almost; a body that moved as though it were your own. These were things you never spoke of, things you never hoped for; things you could never admit to. Things you'd die for, and die of.

Elizabeth Hand

Tags: love destiny desire



Go to quote


I nodded, unsure if Ted sounded admiring or angry. 'I waded in but I couldn't find him. I mean, is it possible - the water wasn't deep enough for him to drown. It doesn't make any sense.'

'My band made four brilliant albums and never had a single goddamn hit. We were supposed to be the American Rolling Stones, and we couldn't get more than five minutes of airplay. Does that make sense?' Ted stubbed out his cigarette.

Elizabeth Hand

Tags: fame senselessness fairness drowning music-scene vagaries



Go to quote


[Poetry] was a form of incantation, a means of welding the world inside his head to the one that surrounded him, words the fiery chain that bound it all together.

Elizabeth Hand

Tags: art poetry magic



Go to quote


It was beyond desolate: it was where desolation goes to be by itself.

Elizabeth Hand


Go to quote


At the door I paused. 'So what was your spirit animal?'

'A dolphin. Fun in the sun, endless summer. What about you?'

'Dee Dee Ramone,' I said, and left.

Elizabeth Hand

Tags: punk flirtation



Go to quote


No lights shone beyond the windows of his room. The reflection from the bedside lamp seemed insubstantial as a candle flame; the darkness outside a solid mass, huge and inescapable, that pressed against the panes. His room sat beneath the eaves, where the wind didn't roar but crooned, a sound like mourning doves.

Elizabeth Hand


Go to quote



Page 1 of 1.


©gutesprueche.com

Data privacy

Imprint
Contact
Wir benutzen Cookies

Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.

OK Ich lehne Cookies ab