Psychological Fiction Quotes

“You are there and to their ears, being a Syrian sounds like you’re unclean, shameful, indecent; it’s like you owe the world an apology for your very existence.”
― Asaad Almohammad, An Ishmael of Syria

“The blind faith in some half-assed conspiracy theories lines up with the logic of having to believe in something with no questions asked. It gives us peace and comfort. As simple as I was, I found that resorting to this absolute nonsense was the root of all our problems. It was a road of willingly-learned helplessness, for no action could make a difference, thereby no action was needed.”
― Asaad Almohammad, An Ishmael of Syria

“In many places along this narrow, curving strand of pavement, the forest threads tree limbs overhead in a latticework canopy that leads one to think of the sacredness of cathedrals.  Once you enter this hallowed space, the temperature drops dramatically and a world of virtual silence wraps you in a cocoon of serenity and grace.  For Kate, it is a destination in and of itself, this magnificent temple of embracing trees, limbs arching overhead with long arms of wooded skin, reaching for their beloved partners on the other side of the road, seeking communion and the joining of lovers.”
― Kathy Martone, Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery

“I told you,” he says as his physical form begins to fade away and the clouds disperse, the crystal blue form of the celestial sphere announcing its role on the stage of dawning awareness.”
― Kathy Martone, Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery

“Soon she is lost in another dimension where images prevail and silence rules.  A large, black eye flutters open, staring at Kate from deep within the oceanic darkness of its mysterious pupil.  Falling into the center of this cyclopean abyss, she comes face to face with something completely unexpected.  A tiny infant, seemingly asleep, is suspended in a cocoon of rotating beads of white light above a luminous white stone altar.”
― Kathy Martone, Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery

“To the rhythm of my deep delight, my fingers tickled across the fabric of the sheets and of reality in bursts of euphoria, making them rustle softly yet firmly, just like sun-crisped leaves on concrete in a breeze—prime ASMR.”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“Our story began with uncertainty, and with uncertainty, it ended—not with a bang, but a whisper.”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“As Kate laments the loss of the singularly most profound love of her life, she watches the black ravens gather in a circle around her, dragging their wings in ritualized fashion as they dance to the beat of ancient drums, pounding out the story of ageless lamentation.”
― Kathy Martone, Victorian Songlight: The Birthings of Magic & Mystery

“There, at the very edge, bordering on the collapse of reality and the dawn of oblivion, an uncanny stillness pins me down to my bed. The world beyond my eyelids, unsteady under a convulsing sky, swings in rhythm with my faltering movements, shifting from pulse to pause, to pulse, to pause.”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“You're like a riddle wrapped in an enigma, but less Churchill and more Kafkaesque.”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“A faint cry; I can't figure out if it's mine or if it's echoing the other half of my broken heart—the one beating in his chest.”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“Did his behaviour indicate a red flag?
Massively.
Did I notice it?
Probably.
Did I deliberately choose to ignore it because he was just.so.different?
Absolutely.
Did I feel ashamed for not knowing better, despite knowing better?
Constantly.”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“While the universe seems to hold its breath, my consciousness is thrust into an abyss, caught in the gravitational pull of unfolding chaos. It's as if the very fabric of existence has reached out, unleashing a cosmic tremor—the kind that reshapes galaxies and rewrites the laws of physics and fate on a whim—then leaned in and whispered, 'Bet you didn't see that coming.”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“In the airport's frenzy, our meeting was a quiet storm of emotions. A million thoughts must have rushed through my mind as I approached him, but I can't, for the life of me, recall anything but a whirlwind humming to the rhythm of my steps—slightly offbeat, like a manic indie song. Heartbeat racing in B minor.”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“Then again, in the early morning hours, when the world outside whispers of slumber, my fingers still trace the outline of a memory. He rests there, in that blind spot between the everyday, when his presence feels most palpable, engraved on the half of the bed that remains unforgivingly empty. What a paradox of loss, this heightened sense of him in the heart of his absence.”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“Why are you running? You know he won’t be there. You KNOW he won’t be there. If you forgot, check your pocket. Pull out your phone and look at the last message in your inbox. What does it say? Oh yes, it says ‘I won’t be there’."

"Fantastic timing for you to become the voice of reason, Shadow," I pant. "Are you trying to make me change my mind?"

"Not at all, this is a thrill for me. I just didn’t know there would be running involved. Can I change your mind about that?”
― Aura Biru, We Are Everyone

“I just wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep forever — especially if there would be no dreams.”
― Michael F Simpson, Hypnagogia

“That was the strange thing about the communicative abilities of living creatures. Real language had no real meaning. As long as the two souls in communion with one another had a mutual understanding of the way things were in the universe. That was enough to understand.”
― Michael F Simpson, Hypnagogia

“Moths are prettier than butterflies.”
― Michael F Simpson, Sempiternal

“It could be seconds, minutes, hours — weeks, months, or yes, even years. It could be no time at all — or indeed all of Time.”
― Michael F Simpson, Sempiternal

“Nuee! Nuee! A lightdress fluttered. She was gone. And into the river that had been a stream . . . there fell a tear, a singult tear, the loveliest of all tears . . . for it was a leaptear.”
― James Joyce, Finnegans Wake

“Emotions were confusing to me before, always so entangled in my clockwork, never working as intended. With her, this confusion somehow made sense. I felt as though I was supposed to have this messy ball of emotions when I held onto her.”
― Michael F Simpson, Sempiternal

“So when you’re alone, and you’re hurting, and you open your heart, something will hear you. Because the thing that hears your prayer is hurting too.”
― Michael F Simpson, Sempiternal

“Even though I needed to know more if I wanted to continue attending the church, the multitude of different forces living in my brain were more powerful than the small, hidden part of the brain that actually represented me.”
― Michael F Simpson, Sempiternal

“There wasn’t enough room in her stomach for both food and fear.”
― Nicole T. Smith, We Have Shadows Too

“People associated emotion with the heart, but other organs had to feel them too.”
― Nicole T. Smith, We Have Shadows Too

“Tears from an unsung place spilled onto her face.”
― Nicole T. Smith, We Have Shadows Too

“A place not of moments, but moment. A waiting place.”
― Nicole T. Smith, We Have Shadows Too

“Rella was exhausted. She just wanted a life where she wouldn’t have to talk about it.”
― Nicole T. Smith, We Have Shadows Too

“A Mind's Minotaur - A Soliloquy by Stewart Stafford

In a labyrinth’s mental corridors, prisoner of consciousness,
Fleeing a Minotaur I fear is me.
Achilles' heel, masked by strength hath shown,
An arrow cometh from Time's swift flight,
For those with bountiful time enow,
Find themselves slain in a heroic light.
When thou dost gaze upon the world below,
And scorn its depths, thou canst not comprehend
The truths that pool o'er its shadow, glow.
No tears stain that meadow of solace,
A phantom limb, tickling in memory's store,
Galley slaves in hurricane's heart so lashed.
Transient madness and renown, conjoin on pomp’s bridge,
Champions of the joust wave paramour's kerchief,
Revered statues limp from a pedestal's ridge.
The signs of pride and brittle ardour,
The hubristic bite of isolation's cur.
The death warrant quill must ne'er be stilled,
For authority doth stifle beauty's song,
Staged chaos through the written word is willed.
Phantasy's balm to verity's scourging,
A cleansing soak of battle-scarred minds,
And in the dark, imagination reigns.
He who hath fear of the dark hath vision keen,
Whilst those who see but naught are dull and plain.
Thus, let us not be swayed by others' lore,
But splay in error, heal to prosper once more.
Idolatrous moth to lechery's candlelight,
In lover's tongues, passion's seared delight.

© 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford