Catherynne M. Valente Quotes
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...snow is the beginning and the end of everything...
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Luck is a finite and rare substance in the universe, like palladium or cobalt. To use it, you have to take it from somebody else.
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Opium ain’t got nothing on the promise of tomorrow turning up better than today. Snow
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A basic moral imperative is in play here. If you can protect a child, you must.
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Did everything that had magic have teeth?
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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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All tamed things are made a bit ridiculous in the process, you know.
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We like the wrong sorts of girls, they wrote. They are usually the ones worth writing about.
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This is my heart - carry it with you. I will dream of you in the dark, and you will taste it in my tea, and feel it in my shoes.
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"We like the wrong sort of girls", they wrote. "They are usually the ones worth writing about.
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Do you know, Masha, how revelation comes? Like death. So sudden, though you knew all along it must occur. A revelation is always the end of something. It might even be cause for grief.
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Everything in the world is a boxing match in your heart, between Boldness and Not-Boldness. You let them holler inside you and wallop each other with Arguments For and Against. Then you end by betting on one or the other and that’s how things get decided.
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Things that cannot long be kept secret: death in the family, the loss of a ring, corruption of the spirit, boredom, illicit love. Sickness. Addiction. Pregnancy.
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It is best in the end to let women see to their own vengeance.
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I’ve always found chess to be a bit too much like real life to provide much enjoyment as a game.
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When you can change something just by saying a word, that is magic.
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We’ve made too many movies, you and I. Or too few. Always too few. Too many to have any meaning, too few to say what we meant.
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The bears, over the years, have developed a primitive but heartfelt Buddhist discipline. Beneath the cinnamon trees they practice the repetition of the Growling Sutra.
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That’s what happens to friends, eventually. They leave you. It’s practically what they’re for.
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Can you imagine what it would do to a person, to know that they were standing between three people and that marrow-deep, desperate need?
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She is my wife and I am her own and you were not invited. Leave us alone.
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A body needs a good memento mori to flush out the humors.
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Everyone is a criminal! We are beset on all sides by antirevolutionary forces. Naturally, then, humans fall into three categories: the criminal, the not-yet-criminal, and the not-yet-caught.
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Cocky don't say anything and that's as good as love right about now.