Top 16 Michael Montoure Quotes
#1. Life went back to normal, after that, as it will do if you're not careful.
Michael Montoure
#2. The broken centerline of the road in her headlights just an endless pulsing ribbon.
Michael Montoure
#3. Why do you have to ruin everything?' he asked. 'Why do you have to name everything? Decide what's real and what's - why can't you just enjoy things? What's wrong with you?
Michael Montoure
#5. We used to make gods, and we used to make sacrifices to them, and they would reward us. We're still doing it and we still makes the sacrifices - I don't know how many cows die every year to keep Burger Clown alive, but I know it's a lot - but we don't know what to do with the gods once we have them.
Michael Montoure
#6. In the dim light of the closed bar, he thought at first it was silver, but as he reached inside and held it up, he saw that it was a gleaming white, so dazzling he knew he had never properly seen the color white before, only paler, inferior shades.
Michael Montoure
#8. He took me down and out into the afterlife of the brightly lit streets, a haze of rain around each streetlight like a galaxy, the whole street a universe spread out like a banquet.
Michael Montoure
#9. Time falls on us, like rain, it falls like rain until we drown in it, and sometimes, it's like the drains overflow, and time just - pools up, it seeps, it gathers in the corners.
Michael Montoure
#10. The skyscrapers of the city had finished scraping all the sky away, and the clouds overhead were exactly the color of concrete and I was safe and cold in a canyon of glass and steel.
Michael Montoure
#11. Fell?' he asked. 'Or was pushed?'
Anton shrugged again. 'It hardly makes a difference,' he said, 'when you are the man at the bottom of the stairs.
Michael Montoure
#12. I try asking him some more questions, but it's like talking to voice mail.
Michael Montoure
#13. Keep in mind that in the whole long tradition of storytelling, from Greek myths through Shakespeare through King Arthur and Robin Hood, this whole notion that you can't tell stories about certain characters because someone else owns them is a very modern one - and to my mind, a very strange one.
Michael Montoure
#14. He'd grown unused to woods like this. He'd become accustomed to the Northwest, evergreen and shaded dark. Here he was surrounded by soft leaves, not needles; leaves that carried their deaths secretly inside them, that already heard the whispers of Autumn. Roots and branches that knew things.
Michael Montoure
#15. I listen to the grinding whir of the clock, and the creaking of my listing bed, and the sound the phone doesn't make when it's shut off.
Michael Montoure
#16. The only sounds here were lazy, ponderous, gentle sounds. A bee hung low in the warm afternoon haze, and he watched it unafraid, listened to the dull electric razor sound of its wings cutting the air. Birds sang sweet and unseen, and a hundred eyes watched him from the dark.
Michael Montoure
Famous Authors
Popular Topics
Scroll to Top
