Catherynne M. Valente Quotes
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Draw the world the way you want it. Draw it and it will be.
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Do you understand Christ to be more like an ox (excuse us, three oxen) or more like a door?
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Be nice to Fairyland. She is old and tender of heart and when her feelings are hurt, she cries volcanoes.
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I could not say what creeps and whispers through the branches and down the threaded Road, but I hear it, and I am not afraid.
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After so long keeping to herself and tending her secret quietly, all these words just bubbled up out of her her like cool golden champagne.
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A stepmother is like a bullet you can't dig out. She fires true and she fires hot and she fires so quick that her metal hits your body before you even know there's a fight on.
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... but as has been said, September read often, and liked it best when words did not pretend to be simple, but put on their full armor and rode out with colors flying.
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It is true that novelists are shameless and obey no decent law, and they are not to be trusted on any account, but some Mysteries even they must honor.
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'All little girls are terrible,' he admitted finally. 'but the Marquess, at least, has a very fine hat'
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She’s an Italian flag in occupied territory, and I fall for her like Paris.
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And the heart of Ivan Nikolayevich broke inside the body of Marya Morevna, and the pieces of him lodged deep in her bones, and through the window, the stars watched.
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If one did not have at least a little luck, one would never survive childhood. But luck can be spent, like money; and lost, like a memory; and wasted, like a life.
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It tasted like a shade of white near blue; it tasted like the idea of pearls; it tasted like a memory nearly grasped but lost at the last moment.
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Just because it's imaginary doesn't mean it isn't real.
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You know how we can be about things which sparkle and shine. We imagine they will put back something of what has been lost.
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Still, she was not sorry. If the world is divided into seeing and not seeing, Marya thought, I shall always choose to see.
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Accuracy is next to godliness.
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In his own country, Death can be kind. But of an end
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It was at thirteen years old that Marya Morevna learned how to keep a secret, and that secrets are jealous things, permitting no fraternization.
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Your past’s a private matter, sweetheart. You just keep it locked up in a box where it can’t hurt anyone.
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I chose you," he said simply. "All of the fish of me turned toward you at once.
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You are a Witch. I am a Prince. In all the books, where there is a Witch and a Prince there is a way.
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I’ll put this in words you can understand: humans are hideous, pain-guzzling, pollution-spouting space monsters who might threaten our way of life.
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A tale may have exactly three beginnings: one for the audience, one for the artist, and one for the poor bastard who has to live in it.