Stories have a way of changing faces. They are unruly things, undisciplined, given to delinquency and the throwing of erasers. This is why we must close them up into thick, solid books, so they cannot get out and cause trouble. Catherynne M. Valente More Quotes by Catherynne M. Valente More Quotes From Catherynne M. Valente I am the Walker and the Maze. Catherynne M. Valente mazes walkers First, the avid student must be aware that when the world was young it knew only seven things: water, life and death, salt, night, birds and the length of an hour. Catherynne M. Valente avid life-and-death night We treat our stone wives with much more care than they treat their warm ones, anyway. I personally dust mine once a week, and I know Khaamil gives them presents when I am not looking. These are yours - they are in your care, and you must be faithful. Catherynne M. Valente wife dust giving It's saying no. That's your first hint that something's alive. It says no. That's how you know a baby is starting to turn into a person. They run around saying no all day, throwing their aliveness at everything to see what it'll stick to. You can't say no if you don't have desires and opinions and wants of your own. You wouldn't even want to. No is the heart of thinking. Catherynne M. Valente heart running baby I am selfish. I am cruel. My mate cannot be less than I. Catherynne M. Valente i-am-selfish mates selfish You're not in love if you keep your own heart bricked up behind your bones. You're only playing. Catherynne M. Valente bones behinds heart Your past's a private matter, sweetheart. You just keep it locked up in xbox where it can't hurt anyone. Catherynne M. Valente xbox hurt past If I stop, I shall sink and die. That's the way I'm made. I have to keep going always, and even when I get where I'm going, I'll have to keep on. That's living. Catherynne M. Valente dies made way Death stands behind every bride, every groom. Catherynne M. Valente brides behinds Here! 'Not thread nor glue, not nails nor screws, will ever self and shadow wed.' Helpful, those poet-types. Perhaps this one: 'Seek the grimy queen of dread machines, if you your errant shadow miss.' Now that's quite good! As a Prophetic Utterance, Third Class (Vague Hints and Mysterious Signs), you couldn't ask for better. It's downright plain-spoken! Catherynne M. Valente queens self class As all mothers know, children travel faster than kisses. The speed of kisses is, in fact, what Doctor Fallow would call a cosmic constant. The speed of children has no limits. Catherynne M. Valente kissing mother children Autumn is the very soul of metamorphosis, a time when the world is poised at the door of winter - which is the door of death - but has not yet fallen. It is a world of contradictions: a time of harvest and plenty but also of cold and hardship. Here we dwell in the midst of life, but we know most keenly that all things must pass away and shrivel. Autumn turns the world from one thing into another. The year is seasoned and wise but not yet decrepit or senile. Catherynne M. Valente autumn wise winter Respect me. Be proud, and if you love me, a little afraid, because love so often looks like fear. We are alike. We are alike. Catherynne M. Valente proud littles looks Every morning is a battle between the superego and the id, and I am a mere foot soldier with mud and a snooze button on her shield. Catherynne M. Valente soldier feet morning Everybody's strange everywhere. Most of the trick of being a social animal is pretending you're not. But who do you fool? Nobody worth talking to. Catherynne M. Valente fool animal talking I want to keep on living forever and watching heroes and fools and knights go up and down, into the world and out. I want to keep being myself and mind the work that minds me. Work is not always a hard thing that looms over your years. Sometimes, work is the gift of the world to the wanting. Catherynne M. Valente knights hero years Do you know, we're right underneath Springtime Parish? This place is the opposite of springtime. Everything past prime, boarded up for the season. Just above us, the light shines golden on daffodils full of rainwine and heartgrass and a terrible, wicked, sad girl I can't get back to. I don't even know if I want to. Do I want to be her again? Or do I want to be free? I come here to think about that. To be near her and consider it. I think I shall never be free. I think I traded my freedom for a better story. It was a better story, even if the ending needed work. Catherynne M. Valente girl past thinking He missed you like a fish in a bowl misses the open sea. Catherynne M. Valente missed-you missing sea Family is a transitive property. Catherynne M. Valente property 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. Catherynne M. Valente wicked tools people
