The more she tried to recapture the impulse that had set her wanting to put pen to paper, the less it seemed to have ever existed in the first place.
Maybe she couldn’t go. Maybe she wanted him to stay. But she knew enough not to try to hold him back if he had to go. It was no different than making friends with a wild creature. You could catch them...
Magic lies in between things, between the day and the night, between yellow and blue, between any two things.
Lies were like having a pregnant rabbit. One day you had one, but before you knew it, there were rabbits all over the place.
If all the darkness each of us carries within us, all our angers and unhappiness and bad moments were pulled out of us and given shape, we would all create monsters.
Every book tells a different story to the person who reads it. How they perceive that book will depend on they are. A good book reflects the reader, as much as it illuminates the author's text.
As the new work fills my notebooks, I've come to realize that the characters in my stories were so real because I really did want to get close to people, I really did want to know them. It was just ea...
In subsequent work where I explored the dark, I used the pseudonym Samuel M. Key.
You've got to spread out as far as you can, cut down a whole forest, irrigate a whole desert, just to make sure that you won't accidentally stumble upon a place that's still in its natural state.
With every light another color. —Romany description of themselves
What Jilly liked best about him was his theory of consensual reality, the idea that things exist because we agree that they exist.
There's more to life than just surviving . . . but . . . sometimes just surviving is all you get
There is no event so momentous that it hasn’t been seen before, no trouble so grand that won’t look small from another perspective.
She’s old, is Granny Weather, he says, and cranky, too, but there’s more magic in one of her toenails than most of us will find in a lifetime.
Life and death are only different positions on the wheel.
I swear that all dogs are born knowing certain words. Walk. Eat. Good dog. The important stuff.
I hate the thought of her being forced into a box that doesn't fit her. Of having her wings cut off, her sight blinded, her hearing muted, her voice stilled.
Have you ever noticed' I said 'how everyone says they want to be different, but as soon as they meet someone who really is different, they ostracize them?
Everything can talk, the old woman replied. The trick is, not everybody knows how to listen.
Everybody’s got to make a buck—the trick is, either find something you like to do, or do something to pay the rent that doesn’t take too much out of you. Capisce?