Everything necessary to understand my grandfather lies between two stories: the story of the tiger’s wife, and the story of the deathless man. These stories run like secret rivers through all the other stories of his life – of my grandfather’s days in the army; his great love for my grandmother; the years he spent as a surgeon and a tyrant of the University. One, which I learned after his death, is the story of how my grandfather became a man; the other, which he told to me, is of how he became a child again.
Téa ObrehtTag: stories grandfather
Perhaps it is how we are made; perhaps words of truth reach us best through the heart, and stories and songs are the language of the heart
Stephen R. LawheadTag: inspirational stories heart songs
There is, I believe now, a force in stories, words in motion, that either drives them forward past things into feelings or doesn't. Sometimes the words fly over the fence and all the way out to the feelings.
Adam Gopnik... a writer concocts a different story for every reader.
Mike BryanTag: reading books writing stories
My story is of such marvel that if it were written with a needle on the corner of an eye, it would yet serve as a lesson to those who seek wisdom.
AnonymousTag: wisdom perspective stories
Day 72
I remember oranges and you don’t mind me leaving the queue momentarily to find some. When you say, Of course, you reach for my arm in sympathy and recognition. This may be the thing that breaks me today, that stops me in my tracks before driving me forward, turning a corner, making something work, letting everything happen. When I return, you’re touching my yoghurts, reading the ingredients, as though you are making them yours, protecting them in my absence and amusing yourself with the cherry-ness of them. On days like this, I want to take my strangers home with me.
Tag: stories strangers london speaking flash-fiction oranges
Stories are the wildest things of all, the monster rumbled. Stories chase and bite and hunt.
Patrick NessThe more bleach in the bedsheets, the greater Chastity's impulse to roll around in them. A party would be thrown, she decided, the kind that would tell a small story in the contents of the dustpan the next morning. Detached sequins and mint leaves muddled by high heels, shrimp tales mixed in with a few shards of broken glass, a crust of bread. She rolled in her bleached sheets until they wrapped around her like a storm, and she fell asleep in the eye of it.
Amelia GrayWord spread because word will spread. Stories and secrets fight, stories win, shed new secrets, which new stories fight, and on.
China MiévilleStories are important, the monster said. They can be more important than anything. If they carry the truth.
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