Catherynne M. Valente Quotes
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The Land of Parents is strange and full of peril.
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When you can change something just by saying a word, that is magic.
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"The Heart of Fairyland is a story," she said, and she felt so warm and light and full of rightness of it that she thought she might faint.
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The Green Wind frowned into his brambly beard. “All little girls are terrible,” he admitted finally, “but the Marquess, at least, has a very fine hat."
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It is such hard work to keep your heart hidden! And worse, by the time you find it easy, it will be harder still to show it.
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But the longer I’m dead, the more I think the universe is a big blackboard with rules scrawled all over it in chalk and stardust and it’s just that the damn thing is flipped over and turned away from us so we can’t see anything but the erase, which death, hitting the floor.
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Everything in the universe has rhythm. Everything pulses to a beat laid down by the Big Bang. Everything feels the drumline of creation from star to sex to song.
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Readers will always insist on adventures, and though you can have grief without adventures, you cannot have adventures without grief.
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When little ones say they want to go home, they almost never mean it. They mean they are tired of this particular game and would like to start another.
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It takes energy for new roads to diverge in new woods, and no energy is spent with complete efficiency, without waste. Where wood has burned, there will be ash. The waste product of the constantly dividing multiverse is a fine, drifting mist of regret, and no wormhole has ever starved.
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Eternity takes forever. The infinite expanse of time just does not know when to quit.
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A dragon looks like a girl when it is young.
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Never assume that a woman is wicked simply because she is ugly and behaves unfavorably towards you. It is unbecoming behavior for a Prince.
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“I will keep it safe for you," Saturday whispered, barely brave enough to say it.
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Did everything that had magic have teeth?
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You’re not in love if you keep your own heart bricked up behind your bones. You’re only playing.
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[...] everything has a narrative, really, and if you can’t understand a story and relate to it, figure out how you fit inside it, you’re not really alive at all.
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But I’ve brought you to the snow, and the snow is the beginning and the end of everything, everyone knows that.
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I thought that for a long while, but you chose me, and then you chose him, and choosing is hard - one choice is never the end of the story.
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There is no such thing as a people who are all wicked or even all good. Everyone chooses. But even they, even they looked at people and saw only tools. No one is a cup for another to drink from.
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Al kept it coming and nobody asked how and his only rule was: share. Be warm, be innocent, open your everything, speak easy. Share
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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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Opium ain’t got nothing on the promise of tomorrow turning up better than today. Snow
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And Miss Oleander Coy had herself a blue mouth. Little stains at the edges of her raspberry lips where she put her pen when she was thinking, which was always.