Catherynne M. Valente Quotes
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If you want to kill yourself, do not use us as your knife.
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Bad luck relies absolutely on perfect timing
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You will live as you live in any world...With difficulty, and grief.
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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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In my experience, folk find it nigh on impossible to call a thing what it is.
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Maidens stand still, they are lovely statues and all admire them. Witches do not stand still. I was neither, but better that I err on the side of witchery, witchery that unlocks towers and empties ships.
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Thing is, just because you make a body shiver don’t make it yours.
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Just because it's imaginary doesn't mean it isn't real.
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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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You take sides if your smart. Offer up your loyalty cause it's all you've got to trade. Trouble is, most times, when you're looking to sell your soul, nobody's buying. - Radiance
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Shadows are where magic comes from. Your dark and dancing self, slipping behind and ahead and around, never quite looking at the sun.
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We are a Body of contradiction, flesh-full and fleshless.
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A mother's like a poison made for only one soul.
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War must always be done out of sight, or it shocks people and they stop immediately.
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He had not guessed how much of the body of a Quest was simply walking.
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Being on time is a filthy habit practised only by roosters and retirees.
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He’ll never be good if he can’t choose to be nasty. It’s the choice that makes the good.
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She leaned in, and kissed her Marid gently, sweetly. She tried to kiss him the way she’d always thought kisses would be. His lips tasted like the sea.
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Love me, and I will laugh for you, and if you can make me laugh, my laughter will, quite simply, ransom the whole of the world from death.
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I thought: this is how you make a human being. A human being is beautiful and sick. A human being glitters and starves.
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She long ago learned that if she waited and blinked and behaved like a pupil, eventually someone would lecture her on something.
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She’s an Italian flag in occupied territory, and I fall for her like Paris.
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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.
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I know real dirt looks nothing like this. Nothing like soft blood flecked with black bone.