Catherynne M. Valente Quotes
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Calpurnia squinted through her goggles and thought to herself, That is a Key. Where there is a Key, there is yet hope.
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It’s a funny thing. You go your whole life thinking you’re the protagonist, but really, you’re just backstory.
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September had only had coffee once, when her Aunt Margaret had snuck her a sip while her mother wasn’t looking. It tasted bitter, but wild and strange. She rather wanted to taste it again.
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I wish you the best that can be hoped for, and no worse than can be expected.
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Tell it fast before you get scared and silence yourself. You’ll never wish you’d held back a little more.
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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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Everyone has their invisible cloak of all things past.
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No one says a word that has not been spoken a thousand times before, a thousand thousand times, and even the first of those was a repetition of words that came before.
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And if they thought her aimless, if they thought her a bit mad, let them. It meant they left her alone. Marya was not aimless, anyway. She was thinking.
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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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She is so stubborn, her heart has an argument with her head every time it wants to beat.
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All Librarians are Secret Masters of Severe Magic. Goes with the territory.
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Perhaps my philosophy is not so sophisticated. It goes: Come inside. I love you. A Whelk's love will grow as big as it's allowed.
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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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It is important to announce your intentions at top volume, she thought, or your intentions will think you are ashamed of them.
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Monsters almost always are culture's way of working out their fears.
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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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A child equals the mass of Fairyland times the speed of luck squared.
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We are halves, but we make an infinite whole.
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Didn't you know? All stepmothers are witches. It is our compensation for remaining forever an intruder in another woman's house.
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His parties have room for all. Come on in. Nobody to look at you funny in here. Nobody to tell you not to have that drink, kiss that fella, smash that chair, light that chandelier on fire. Do it all. Do it all forever.
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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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Being on time is a filthy habit practised only by roosters and retirees.
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You can be innocent again. It's not true, what they say, that you can never get it back. You can. It's only that most folk cannot be bothered.