Poetic Prose Quotes

“I was as hollow and empty as the spaces between stars.”
― Raymond Chandler, The Long Goodbye

“I want you to hold me like a grudge, keep me like a promise, haunt me like a ghost.”
― Ann Liang, I Hope This Doesn't Find You

“What do you mean, a goddess?” Alec questioned irritably.
“She’s staggeringly beautiful, wonderful, a vision of …” He petered out when he saw Alec looking at him strangely. Father Joe stroked his beard in thought, nervously eyeing Alec and then casting his eyes to the fireplace. Alec was beginning to sense Father Joe was regretting coming to his flat. He was also thinking that he regretted having anything to do with the vicar. He was quite mad … possibly.”
― Hugo Woolley, The Wasp Trap

“Her mouth was a gash of red, like the torn-open stomach of a sacrifice, bloody and oracular. Behind it her teeth shone sharp and white as bone.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“She gave me for my pains a world of sighs.”
― William Shakespeare, Othello

“Go deeper after your feelings created by your awareness and go into your heart beyond this simple word.”
― Raz Mihal, Just Love Her

“Feel the astounding rhythm of the music pumped out from nature and life itself.”
― Raz Mihal, Just Love Her

“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, Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books

“We were broke in a way that only kids can be broke. Our toes were black with dye from wearing boots that weren't waterproof. We had infected ear lobes and green rings around our fingers from cheap jewelry. No one ever even had a chocolate bar.”
― Heather O'Neill, Lullabies for Little Criminals

“Maybe he was as mad as he said he was, but she could see only a species of miserable fright. Suddenly, like the thud of a boxing glove on her mouth, she saw how close to the edge of everything he was. The agency was tottering, that was bad enough, and now, on top of that, like a grisly dessert following a putrid main course, his marriage was tottering too. She felt a rush of warmth for him, for this man she had sometimes hated and had, for the last three hours at least, feared. A kind of epiphany filled her. Most of all, she hoped he would always think he had been as mad as hell, and not . . . not the way his face said he felt.”
― Stephen King, Cujo

“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

“...she could not think of what had happened to her that day, or of what might happen that night. Instead, she watched the lamplighters move along the avenues even as their celestial counterparts set the stars alight in the sky. The rain had washed the city clean, and the air was a confection of clematis and violets and peony. Music and light spilled out of so many grand houses that the two seemed at once ubiquitous and united, as if to play a note was to send forth a ray of illumination, and a quartet was enough to set the grandest halls aglitter.”
― Galen M. Beckett, The Magicians and Mrs. Quent

“As she walked, clock towers across Prague started arguing midnight, and the long, fraught Monday came at last to a close.”
― Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone

“Lincoln prowled the nearly empty streets as a sinking sun left touches of gold along the edges of feathery clouds that floated aimlessly in a late-summer sky.”
― Kimber Silver, Bullets in the Briar

“APPLES SCENT,
You arrive in the basement. Immediatly it catches you. Apples are here, lying on fruit trays, turned crates. You didn't think about it. You had no wish to be flooded by this melancholic wave. But you can't resist. Apple scent is a breaker. How could you manage without this childhood, bitter and sweet ?
Shrivelled fruits surely are delicious, from this feak dryness where candied taste seems to have wormed in each wrinkle. But you don't wish to eat them. Particularly don't turn into an identifiable taste this floating power of smell. Say that it smells good, strong? But not ..... It's beyond .... An inner scent, scent of a better oneself. Here is shut up school autumn, with purple ink we scratch paper with down strokes and thin strokes. Rain bangs against glasses, evening will be long ....
But apple perfume is more than past. You think about formerly because of fullness and intensity from a remembrance of salpetered cellar, dark attic. But it's to live here, stay here, stand up.
You have behind you high herbs and damp orchards. Ahead it's like a warm blow given in the shade. Scent got all browns, all reds with a bit of green acid. Scent distilled skin softness, its tiny roughness. Lips dried, we alreadyt know that this thirst is not to be slaked.
Nothing would happen if you bite the white flesh. You would need to become october, mud floor, moss of cellar, rain, expectation.
Apple scent is painful. It's from a stronger life, a slowness we deserve no more.”
― Philippe DELERM

“Time held no meaning as my mind darted in and out of memories. Past and present collided to create a full-sensory collage out of my life: playing hide-n-seek with my best friends Luke—who always cheated by walking through walls when he was about to be caught—and Lucy; Mr. Caldrin critiquing my sketches and offering ideas to make them more realistic; targets changing faces, blending into the same person, their thoughts rippling through my mind like waves. Through it all, a demon stalked me from the shadows of my memories, never quite showing its face, but crouching, waiting.

And then I dreamed....”
― Kimberly Kinrade, Forbidden Fire

“Like blood out of a wound, a keening wail rose from the bottom of my heart and ripped through the graveyard. I lowered my face to Hadassah's shoulder and went quietly and thoroughly to pieces.”
― Angela Elwell Hunt, Magdalene

“We believe in Christ-like love — universal, unconditional —
not as a distant idea,
but as a daily practice
that breathes through simplicity.”
― Phoenix Moon

“The pale blue evening light of fading shadows crashes violently against the hill behind the town—facing radical orange and poisoned greens. It steams upward against a bluish sky that has swallowed every cloud in this modern summer May.”
― Laura Chouette, The Willow Song

“The world folded in on itself - quiet, final & far from me.”
― Jonathan Harnisch, Sex, Drugs, and Schizophrenia

“He doesn’t lock the door anymore—not out of courage, but quiet desperation. Each night, he lies there, hollowed and waiting, hoping a stranger might cross the threshold and finish the story he can’t bring himself to end. It isn’t bravery. It’s surrender in disguise. He doesn’t wish for peace, not even sleep—just an ending that isn’t authored by his own hand. A final act. A random mercy. That’s all he asks.”
― Jonathan Harnisch, Sex, Drugs, and Schizophrenia

“My writing is not linear —
it is a hybrid memoir:
fragments of a soul,
stitched together with poetry,
confession,
and truth.”
― Phoenix Moon

“My writing is hybrid
because it is human —
and the human is never just one thing.

It is poetry,
it is pain,
it is visceral confession,
reflection,
questioning,
philosophy,
and prayer —
all intertwined…”
― Phoenix Moon

“I’m tired of bodies.
I need to touch souls.”
― Phoenix Moon, Emotional Roller Coaster: Confessions of a soul reborn from the ashes

“Death has always chosen its avatars reaper, she is no different. but you, you were meant to carry that grief”
― a.stone

“She didn’t want resurrection. She wanted rest that didn’t require rebirth. She wanted to be seen without being punished for it.”
― Maddie Rune, Honey Girl: A Lyrical Southern Gothic Story of Love, Loss, and Redemption

“She quilted her tears into a blanket no one else had the courage to wrap around her.”
― Maddie Rune, Honey Girl: A Lyrical Southern Gothic Story of Love, Loss, and Redemption

“Love without structure is just a beautiful sigh trapped in a suffocating reality.”
― Phoenix Moon, Emotional Roller Coaster: Confessions of a soul reborn from the ashes

“Gentlemen,” he said, and the word cut neat and cool through the lingering noise. “We are gathered to bind the fates of our states together, not with mere treaties, but with the iron certainty of a road.”

A breath. A rustle of shirt cuffs.

“Not a rut through the mud, not a track for cattle,” he continued, “but a grand artery. A marvel worthy of the Republic. From Baltimore to the west, to the frontier and the territories beyond—where commerce may flow, and with it, the lifeblood of our nation.”
― Samantha Smiley, Mountain Laurel

“I never feel like I have to catch sunsets. It almost feels like they're more inviting and welcoming this way, slowly happening so everyone has a chance to witness it.”
― Nikki Navarro, At Least One Day