Cain Novel Quotes

You have to wait for your mind to catch up with whatever it is it’s working on; then you can write a novel.

Lying here with him, I realize love is so much more than silly words or actions. It is all encompassing and unfathomable until experienced. It is darkness intertwined with light, good with evil.

So when introverts assume the observer role, as when they write novels, or contemplate unified field theory- or fall quiet at dinner parties- they’re not demonstrating a failure or a lack of energy. They’re simply doing what they’re constitutionally suited for” (237).

Just for tonight, let's pretend I'm not a priest and you're not crazy. We're just two normal human beings having a good time. Just a man and a woman at a rip-off carnival, living in the moment.

A lot of novelists start late—Conrad, Pirandello, even Mark Twain. When you're young, chess is all right, and music and poetry. But novel-writing is something else. It has to be learned, but it can't be taught. This bunkum and stinkum of college creative writing courses! The academics don't know that the only thing you can do for someone who wants to write is to buy him a typewriter.

I love you with every ounce of my being. You are the music of my soul, my heart, and the love of my life. I am everything with you and nothing without you.

But a man lies to himself, and never more so than he does about a woman.

when introverts assume the observer role, as when they write novels, or contemplate unified field theory—or fall quiet at dinner parties—they’re not demonstrating a failure of will or a lack of energy. They’re simply doing what they’re constitutionally suited for.

Lee was tough as hickory, but the tree was old.

I wish you to place your division across this road, and I wish you to get there,

One of the most humane phrases in the English language—“Only connect!”—was written by the distinctly introverted E. M. Forster in a novel exploring the question of how to achieve “human love at its height.

These words on the screen represented her latest project, an attempt at a series of commercial, discreetly feminist crime novels. She had read all of Agatha Christie at eleven years old, and later lots of Chandler and James M.Cain. There seemed no reason why she shouldn't try writing something in between, but she was discovering once again that reading and writing were not the same-you couldn't just soak it up then squeeze it out again. She found herself unable to think of a name for her detective, let alone a cohesive original plot, and even her pseudonym was poor: Emma T. Wilde? She wondered if she was doomed to be one of those people who spend their lives trying things. She had tried being in a band, writing plays and children's books, she had tried acting and getting a job in publishing. Perhaps crime fiction was just another failed project to place alongside trapeze, Buddhism and Spanish. She used the computer's word counter feature. Thirty-five words, including the title page and her rotten pseudonym. Emma groaned, released the hydraulic lever on the side of her office chair and sank a little closer to the carpet.

We know this type of person well from literature, probably because so many writers are sensitive introverts themselves. He “had gone through life with one skin fewer than most men,” the novelist Eric Malpass writes of his quiet and cerebral protagonist, also an author, in the novel The Long Long Dances.

Don’t go thinking I was one of these hellfire-and-brimstone fellers. No, sir. I put more stock in Jesus than Jeremiah. And I never tried to tell a man Jesus really turned that wine into water, not the other way around. Just tried to persuade him that getting hog-drunk and killing his own brother wasn’t Christian.

Teens who are too gregarious to spend time alone often fail to cultivate their talents “because practicing music or studying math requires a solitude they dread.” Madeleine L’Engle, the author of the classic young adult novel A Wrinkle in Time and more than sixty other books, says that she would never have developed into such a bold thinker had she not spent so much of her childhood alone with books and ideas.

influences. I took from Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls that defending the dignity of others is never a lost cause whether you succeed or not. And I thrill to the exhortation in the poem that inspired the novel, to be “part of the main,” to be “involved in mankind.” It’s who we are. The right to life and liberty, to be governed by consent and ruled by laws, to have equal justice and protection of property, these values are the core of our national identity. And it is fidelity to them—not ethnicity or religion, culture or class—that makes one an American. To accept the abolition or abridgement of those rights in other societies should be no less false to Americans than their abridgment in our own society. Human rights are not our invention. They don’t represent standards from which particular cultures or religions can be exempted. They are universal. They exist above the state and beyond history. They cannot be rescinded by one government any more than they can be granted by another. That’s our creed. The authors put it right at the beginning of the manifesto they wrote to declare our independence. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights.

He “had gone through life with one skin fewer than most men,” the novelist Eric Malpass writes of his quiet and cerebral protagonist, also an author, in the novel The Long Long Dances. “The troubles of others moved him more, as did also the teeming beauty of life: moved him, compelled him, to seize a pen and write about them. [He was moved by] walking in the hills, listening to a Schubert impromptu, watching nightly from his armchair the smashing of bone and flesh that made up so much of the nine o’clock news.

No one would choose this sort of painful adolescence, but the fact is that the solitude of Woz’s teens, and the single-minded focus on what would turn out to be a lifelong passion, is typical for highly creative people. According to the psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, who between 1990 and 1995 studied the lives of ninety-one exceptionally creative people in the arts, sciences, business, and government, many of his subjects were on the social margins during adolescence, partly because “intense curiosity or focused interest seems odd to their peers.” Teens who are too gregarious to spend time alone often fail to cultivate their talents “because practicing music or studying math requires a solitude they dread.” Madeleine L’Engle, the author of the classic young adult novel A Wrinkle in Time and more than sixty other books, says that she would never have developed into such a bold thinker had she not spent so much of her childhood alone with books and ideas. As a young boy, Charles Darwin made friends easily but preferred to spend his time taking long, solitary nature walks. (As an adult he was no different. “My dear Mr. Babbage,” he wrote to the famous mathematician who had invited him to a dinner party, “I am very much obliged to you for sending me cards for your parties, but I am afraid of accepting them, for I should meet some people there, to whom I have sworn by all the saints in Heaven, I never go out.”)

Extroverts tend to tackle assignments quickly. They make fast (sometimes rash) decisions, and are comfortable multitasking and risk-taking. They enjoy “the thrill of the chase” for rewards like money and status. Introverts often work more slowly and deliberately. They like to focus on one task at a time and can have mighty powers of concentration. They’re relatively immune to the lures of wealth and fame. Our personalities also shape our social styles. Extroverts are the people who will add life to your dinner party and laugh generously at your jokes. They tend to be assertive, dominant, and in great need of company. Extroverts think out loud and on their feet; they prefer talking to listening, rarely find themselves at a loss for words, and occasionally blurt out things they never meant to say. They’re comfortable with conflict, but not with solitude. Introverts, in contrast, may have strong social skills and enjoy parties and business meetings, but after a while wish they were home in their pajamas. They prefer to devote their social energies to close friends, colleagues, and family. They listen more than they talk, think before they speak, and often feel as if they express themselves better in writing than in conversation. They tend to dislike conflict. Many have a horror of small talk, but enjoy deep discussions. A few things introverts are not: The word introvert is not a synonym for hermit or misanthrope. Introverts can be these things, but most are perfectly friendly. One of the most humane phrases in the English language—“Only connect!”—was written by the distinctly introverted E. M. Forster in a novel exploring the question of how to achieve “human love at its height.” Nor are introverts necessarily shy. Shyness is the fear of social disapproval or humiliation, while introversion is a preference for environments that are not overstimulating. Shyness is inherently painful; introversion is not.

Of all the ways to die, I think being pummeled to death by trashy hetero romance novels might be the worst. Or best.

Harry Tugend had abandoned radio to write films; Allen’s writers were now Arnold Auerbach and Herman Wouk (later famous as the author of The Caine Mutiny and other bestselling novels). Wouk and Auerbach may have been the most rewritten team in radio, for Allen continued to do the script’s final drafts.

LOSE YOURSELF IN FICTION Reading literary fiction requires people to enter characters’ lives and minds – and by doing so, it increases people’s capacity to understand other people’s thoughts and feelings, ... People who read literary fiction performed better on tests of empathy and emotional intelligence afterward. 'You enter the thoughts, heart and mind of another person who’s not like you, and it really does break down barriers,' said Dr. Riess, whose book, 'The Empathy Effect: Seven Neuroscience-Based Keys for Transforming the Way We Live, Love, Work and Connect Across Difference' came out in November. Choose novels with narrators who have lives and backgrounds unlike yours, or who live in a different place or time. Choose diverse authors, too.

It’s sad to say, but not every employee of a church is a Christian, and each quarter I terminate those whose purpose is not to spread the Gospel of Christ, which is to be a ministry where the lost can find salvation spiritually and for their natural needs.

but Jesus help me, I feel like using scriptures to serve my purpose. If there is a time for everything under the sun, surely this is the time I can smack the fire out of Emily.

just as fate would have it, Ryan begins to cry—proving Jesus really will make a way of escape for you to flee fornication or is it sin in general?

If the Lord did it for them, He could do it for me. He is the same God with all the power.

I chuckle to myself as the thought that maybe he gets it from me enters my mind. I shake it off quickly though. This is just my son’s own little thing.

Cover him with your son, Jesus Christ’s, precious blood.

I can’t worry about her feelings right now because she has disrespected Rachel. I won’t have her coming at my love in front of me, ever.

You seem to have a talent for sneaking into my bed.” “Hmm, you never seem to remember, either. One of us has a problem.

You’ve seen mine. I want to see yours.” He grinned and rubbed her back. Jennifer choked on the strawberry. “W-What?” she gasped as she held her robe closed tight. “Glasses. I want to see your glasses. What did you think I meant?

Most women don’t have a problem with me being naked. As a matter of fact, most women want me naked.-- Dylan McAthie

A woman’s like a cannon herself. Keep her well lubricated, and she’ll not just stand hard use but shine with it. But you cain’t just empty your powder horn in her, then drop her back on the rack to rust! ~Gunner

You are my heaven. I just never knew I’d find it here on Earth.

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions.
 I have good intentions, but when a match strikes, fire follows.

I don’t need parents, a savior, or a fuckin’ knight in shining armor.

Santa hasn’t visited me since I was six. I haven’t exactly been a good girl.

I love you more than you will ever know or understand.

I’ve got you Emma. You’re safe.” Tears illuminated her eyes and clung to her dark lashes. She wrapped her arms around his neck and sobbed, “Help me.” “Let me.

Surprisingly he wasn’t jealous because his brother was kissing the girl he’d loved in high school and had hoped to marry. Instead it was the happiness they shared that he found himself longing for... Will I ever find that kind of happiness?

I like novels where the author proves how terrible military guys are, and how superior sensitive civilians are. I know they’re true to life because I’m a sensitive civilian myself.” He puffed at the cigar, made a mouth of distaste, and threw it into a brass jar half full of sand.

Good?” he asks with an arched brow and a smirk on his lips. “I’m speechless.” And it’s the truth. “Kara Caine speechless? What a novel idea. I should feed you more often.” “Yes, please. I’d take a fucking vow of silence for this food.

We’ll begin with the books.” I choose a place to start. “Let’s get them back onto the bookcases. Cain, how were they shelved?” “What do you mean?” “Alphabetically?” “Novels and poetry there, and nonfiction and research materials there.” He points out the relevant bookcases. “And, yes, alphabetically by author.” I smile.

We’ll begin with the books.” I choose a place to start. “Let’s get them back onto the bookcases. Cain, how were they shelved?” “What do you mean?” “Alphabetically?” “Novels and poetry there, and nonfiction and research materials there.” He points out the relevant bookcases. “And, yes, alphabetically by author.

The problem with selling your soul to the devil is that you always pay twice.

Sometimes I trick myself when writing in my notebook; sometimes I end up working on the novel after all, in those pages. And that is the best reason to return to it, that it brings me closer to something I haven't otherwise been able to get to, or that can't get to me. I want to go further into my writing, into my thinking. 'And do I?

The Bible says I’m free to marry. My ex-wife committed adultery and does not want me.

Lately, in the curious and widely diffused teaching called the Science of Sociology, it has been asserted that the relations between the members of human society have been, and are, dependent on economic conditions. But to assert this is merely to substitute for the clear and evident cause of a phenomenon one of its effects. The cause of this or that economic condition always was (and could not but be) the oppression of some men by others. Economic conditions are a result of violence, and cannot therefore be the cause of human relations. Evil men – the Cains – who loved idleness and were covetous, always attacked good men – the Abels – the tillers of the soil, and by killing them or threatening to kill them, profited by their toil. The good, gentle, and industrious people, instead of fighting their oppressors, considered it best to submit, partly because they did not wish to fight, and partly because they could not do so without interrupting their work of feeding themselves and their neighbors. On this oppression of the good by the evil, and not on any economic conditions, all existing human societies have been, and still are, based and built.