A book is a door, you know. Always and forever. A book is a door into another place and another heart and another world. Catherynne M. Valente More Quotes by Catherynne M. Valente More Quotes From Catherynne M. Valente You know how we can be about things which sparkle and shine. We imagine they will put back something of what has been lost. Catherynne M. Valente sparkle imagine shining However wretched her origins, she chose freely to continue her crimes against us from the moment she woke to this life. It is easy to forgive beautiful women, especially when they lay a sorrowful tale before you like a sugar-dusted meal. It does not mean they deserve forgiveness. Catherynne M. Valente forgiving beautiful mean We all have someone we think shines so much more than we do that we are not even a moon to their sun, but a dead little rock floating in space next to their gold and their blaze. Catherynne M. Valente rocks moon thinking At the snowy summit of all these things, however, is the fact that you simply cannot go about locking your siblings in towers when they misbehave. It is unseemly and betrays a sad lack of creativity. Catherynne M. Valente sibling creativity towers You were so near death that ghosts crowded around you, weeping silver tears, waiting for you with such smiles. You humans, you know, whoever built you sewed irony into your sinews. Catherynne M. Valente irony tears waiting …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. Catherynne M. Valente narrative alive stories A marriage is a private thing. It has its own wild laws, and secret histories, and savage acts, and what passes between married people is incomprehensible to outsiders. We look terrible to you, and severe, and you see our blood flying, but what we carry between us is hard-won, and we made it just as we wished it to be, just the color, just the shape. Catherynne M. Valente color law blood No one is now what they were before the war. There’s just no getting any of it back. Catherynne M. Valente war I hope, in years to come, I shall hold my heart up and it will be a pane of clear glass, through which I see all, but nothing is distorted. Catherynne M. Valente glasses heart years Whenever one does extraordinary things, someone is bound to try to repeat them for themselves. It's the way of the world. Catherynne M. Valente doe trying world 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. Catherynne M. Valente ships lovely towers It appeals to the higher nature of the self to put aside food which once lived - I do not consider myself food, why should I ask all other creatures to consider themselves so? Catherynne M. Valente appeals should self Love rarely waits for permission. Catherynne M. Valente permission waiting Do you think I am a fool, Masha? All this time, and you speak to me as though I were a flighty pinprick of a girl. I am a magician! Did you never think, even once, that I loved lipstick and rouge for more than their color alone? I am a student of their lore, and it is arcane and hermetic beyond the dreams of alchemists. Did you never wonder why I gave you so many pots, so many creams, so much perfume? Catherynne M. Valente girl dream thinking If one did not have at least a little luck, one would never survive childhood. But luck can be spent, like money; and lost, like a memory; and wasted, like a life. Catherynne M. Valente childhood luck memories Marya pinned out her childhood like a butterfly. She considered it the way a mathematician considers an equation. Catherynne M. Valente childhood butterfly way You will always go into that tent. You will see her scar and wonder where she got it. You will always be amazed at how one woman can have so much black hair. You will always fall in love, and it will always be like having your throat cut, just that fast. You will always run away with her. You will always lose her. You will always be a fool. You will always be dead, in a city of ice, snow falling into your ear. You have already done all of this and will do it again. Catherynne M. Valente falling-in-love cutting running Well enough. I won't ask you if your love is true or any of that rot—it's not my place to judge. After all, I'm a naked woman chained to a wall; I've no business questioning the lifestyles of wine-makers or anyone else. Catherynne M. Valente wall wine love-is You humans, you know, whoever built you sewed irony into your sinews. Catherynne M. Valente irony built humans Close up your head; your brain is getting loose. Catherynne M. Valente brain
