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Being Necessary is food no less than cabbages and strawberry pies.
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He tried to reconstruct the story in his mind, but it kept getting confused, bleeding into itself like watercolors.
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You have to be able to see the world as a whole to bear it - to see the Queerness that moves in every bit
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A map shows maybes.
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I am a practical girl, and a life is only so long. It should be spent in as much peace and good eating and good reading as possible and no undue excitement. That is all I am after.
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I'm an extra in your story. Well, you're an extra in mine, boy.
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I think this is very strange - All things are strange which are worth knowing (...).
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Magic has a logic, like algebra. Once you get to know it, it's easy. If this, then that. You write with a pencil, you don't make frog soup with it.
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I have to know, I have to or else you will just rule me until the end of everything because you know and I do not.
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I’ve no idea what I shall do when I am grown! I don’t suppose there is much call for Knights or Bishops or Heroines in Omaha or even Chicago. And I’m sure other girls are much better at it than I.
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Well, very splendid and very frightening. But splendid things are often frightening. Sometimes, it's the fright that makes them splendid at all.
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Your past's a private matter, sweetheart. You just keep it locked up in xbox where it can't hurt anyone.
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There are many sorts of lies. You could fill a shop with them. To be sure, lies are terribly common.
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That's Venus, September thought. She was the goddess of love. It's nice that love comes on first thing in the evening, and goes out last in the morning. Love keeps the light on all night.
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“Am I truly such a villain? Is it really a cage if it’s the size of the world?” “Yes,” said Emily, Charlotte, and Anne together, rather more loudly than any of them expected.
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What happens to anything beautiful? Viy ate it up.
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Tell it fast before you get scared and silence yourself.
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It calmed him to collect the things he knew and did not speak of.
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But Fairyland is an old place, and old things have strange hungers.
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She smelled like accounts receivable. She looked like old money.
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Ragtime plinking, glasses clinking, choruses getting sung with only half the lyrics right, giggles bubbling over like a tower of champagne. It's a party, shaking down the dawn.
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What is the world but a boxing ring where fools and devils put up their fists?
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I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I.
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No good thing can last forever, because people are terrible and we have this feeling, we all have this feeling, that if not for that essential terribleness we could have gotten further by now. Done better. Done more.