Everything can talk, the old woman replied. The trick is, not everybody knows how to listen.
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.
You must always confront your fears, Goon said as though she hadn’t spoken. Then skulking monsters become merely unfamiliar shadows, thrown by a tree bough. Whispering voices are just the wind. The wi...
What Jilly liked best about him was his theory of consensual reality, the idea that things exist because we agree that they exist.
There are no happy endings, Cerin told her. There are no real endings ever—happy or otherwise. We all have our own stories, which are just a part of the one Story that binds both this world and Faerie...
The past scampers like an alleycat through the present, leaving the paw prints of memories scattered helter-skelter—here ink is smeared on a page, there lies an old photograph with a chewed corner, el...
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.
Not only do we all have magic, it's all around us as well. We just don't pay attention to it. Every time we make something out of nothing, that's an act of magic. It doesn't matter if it's a painting...
It reminded me of that tongue-in-cheek quick history of art I'd overheard...Used to be people couldn't draw very well, then they could, and now they can't again.
I swear that all dogs are born knowing certain words. Walk. Eat. Good dog. The important stuff.
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?
We have not inherited the earth from our fathers, we are borrowing it from our children.
There's nothing wrong with a youthful prospective. Don't forget- no one else sees the world the way you do, so no one else can tell the stories you have to tell.
There's no such thing as fiction, Annie told him once. If you can imagine something, then it's happened.
The thing to remember when you're writing, he said, is, it's not whether or not what you put on paper is true. It's whether it wakes a truth in your reader. I don't care what literary device you migh...
She shrugged. Everybody makes the same mistake. Fortune-telling doesn't reveal the future; it mirrors the present. It resonates against what your subconscious already knows and hauls it up out of the...
She hoped he was running to his red deer woman, and that when he tapped on the door of her heart, she'd open it wide and let him in.
Sara Kendell once read somewhere that the tale of the world is like a tree. The tale, she understood, did not so much mean the niggling occurrences of daily life. Rather it encompassed the grand stori...
It’s a mistake to go poking about in your own past, she’d told her. It makes you shrink into yourself. Every time you return you get smaller and more transparent. Go back often enough and you might va...
