Top 8 Quotes & Sayings by Chris Adrian

Explore popular quotes and sayings by an American author Chris Adrian.
Chris Adrian

Chris Adrian is an American author. Adrian's writing styles in short stories vary greatly; from modernist realism to pronounced lyrical allegory. His novels both tend toward surrealism, having mostly realistic characters experience fantastic circumstances. He has written three novels: Gob's Grief, The Children's Hospital, and The Great Night. In 2008, he published A Better Angel, a collection of short stories. His short fiction has also appeared in The Paris Review, Zoetrope, Ploughshares, McSweeney's, The New Yorker, The Best American Short Stories, and Story. He was one of 11 fiction writers to receive a Guggenheim Fellowship in 2009. He lives in San Francisco.

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Accuser Ages Angels Angry Apocalypse Asked Awesome Awful Back Blow Hide All Book Burn Chances Chances Are Chest Children Comfort Conceive Creature Depravity Destroyer Enough Love False False Hope Feel First Generation Fork Furious Generation Give Good Good Man Grace Hallway Heart Hearts Hope Imagining Lack Lack Of Love Life Love Machines Magic Make Makes Manufacturing Marvel Medicine Moon Moon Rise Mortal My Heart My Life New World Noticed Opened Parents Passes People Pony Powerless Prefer Promise Rage Read Reasons Recorder Redemption Regret Remember Remind Rises Save Scripture Selected Sets Sharing Similarly Spirit Spoon Story Suffer Surely Survival Takes Teach Thought Truth Ugly Unloved Utterly Wondered World Writing Less More Hide All See All
It takes four angels to oversee an apocalypse: a recorder to make the book that would be scripture in the new world; a preserver to comfort and save those selected to be the first generation; an accuser to remind them why they suffer; and a destroyer to revoke the promise of survival and redemption, and to teach them the awful truth about furious sheltering grace.
But as surely as the moon rises and the sun sets, depravity passes down through the ages, because there is always a gap between who we are and who we should be, and our parents, molested by regret, conceive us under the false hope that we will be better than them, and everything they do, every hug and blow, only makes certain that we never will be.
I am...sad and angry. Why is my spirit so sad and angry? I look back at my life and all I can remember is rage and rage and rage. β€” Β© Chris Adrian
I am...sad and angry. Why is my spirit so sad and angry? I look back at my life and all I can remember is rage and rage and rage.
If I showed you what was in my heart," she said, "it would burn you to a cinder. "I've tried to burn you similarly," it said, "but you never even noticed when I opened my chest.
When people ask me which I would rather give up, writing or medicine, it's like being asked which eye I'd prefer to have poked out with a spoon: neither, and please use a fork.
It seemed a marvel to her that any mortal should suffer for lack of love, and yet she had never known a mortal who didn't feel unloved. There was enough love just in this ugly hallway, she thought, that no one should ever feel the lack of it again. She peered at the parents, imagining their hearts like machines, manufacturing surfeit upon surfeit of love for their children, and then wondered how something could be so awesome and so utterly powerless.
If there’s a magic pony in the story, chances are I’ll read it.
I want to be a good creature for reasons beyond sharing a life with a good man.
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