Catherynne M. Valente Quotes
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I shall be as brave as a my Toad, he thought, for my Toad never hides under the bed when she is afraid of lightning or bats. She sticks out her tongue and eats them.
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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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I burn, I freeze; I am never warm. I am rigid; I forgot softness because it did not serve me.
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But you like him already, I can tell. Even though we showed our teeth and were very clear about his being wicked.
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Fairyland is a very Scientifick place. We subscribe to all the best journals.
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I was born a girl in a world of Branwells, but I shall be more than I am meant.
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“Don’t worry,” Marya whispered, kissing his forehead. “My old bones will follow yours soon enough.
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We hold demonstrations and civil wars when inequities are discovered.
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He looked so sorry and miserable as he pushed me out the door. It stung. It always stings when there's this whole story going on and you're really just a B-plot walk-on who only got a look at three pages of the script.
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If there are spells, they have a right to weave.
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I do not serve your personal issues, Morevna. I serve the People, and the People will have crimes against their body answered. You fought at Leningrad. So did I. Why should he be spared?' 'Somebody ought to be.
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How long was it, between the time when you were happy, and the time when you wanted to kill him?
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You're just shy of figuring out how to shuffle your horde of hormone-curdled control-obsessed malignant narcissists off world. In short, you were about to become our problem. But now there is no problem! Now there is a process.
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She still longed for the best heights of magic, to see dragons and mermaids, to see the naked world.
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You’re better off - theatrical folk are nothing but a bundle of monologues and anxiety headaches.
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There is no end and no beginning. There is only we two, alone in the dark, for always.
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I said: I could be a wolf for you. I could put my teeth on your throat. I could growl. I could eat you whole. I could wait for you in the dark. I could howl against your hair.
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You can't blame a book for its story.
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Every person draws a map that shows themselves at the center. But that does not mean that no other countries exist.
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So most people go around with grimy machinery, when all it would take is a bit of spit and polish to make them paladins once more, bold knights and true.
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Where there is a Key, there is yet hope.
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Memory is like that. It alters itself so that girls are always trapped under the earth, waiting in the dark.
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Everything is always happening all at once, in the present tense, forever, the beginning and the end and the denouement and the remaindering.
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We are all dead. All equal. Broken and aimless and believing we are alive. This is Russia and it is 1952. What else would you call hell?