“One page a day, seven a week, thirty or thirty-one to the month. Fishing in his pocket for a tip, he came up with his pen, a thick black fountain pen. Fountain: it seemed less flowing, less forthcoming than that,… — John Crowley Copy Share Image
“The Crows of the region could have told them that there are almost always more Crows around them than they can see; but like… — John Crowley Copy Share Image
Learning to decipher words had only added to the pleasures of holding spines and turning pages, measuring the journey to the end with a… — John Crowley Copy Share Image
It occurred to him that seeing a woman's child is like seeing a woman naked, in the way it changes how her face looks… — John Crowley Copy Share Image
“He learned, though slowly, what all great harrowed lovers learn: that love is what most surely compels love -- is perhaps, except for brute… — John Crowley Copy Share Image
“...only think a moment that we are here now, and that that was then, and it has come to this, and how odd, odd,… — John Crowley Copy Share Image
Love is a myth.' 'Love is a myth,' Grandfather Trout said. 'Like summer.' 'What?' 'In winter,'Grandfather Trout said, 'summer is a myth. A report,… — John Crowley Copy Share Image
“The Tale was behind them. And it was to there they journeyed. One step would take them there; they were there already” — john crowley Copy Share Image
“They called him John Storm: John after his grandfather, but Storm after his father and his mother.” — John Crowley Copy Share Image
“Handsome guy, Victor, in a brutal, black-Irish way. Like most New York bartenders, he was really an actor, or was it the reverse? ("Novelty")” — John Crowley Copy Share Image
“There was a game she had played with Sophie in the long hallways of Edgewood, where she and Sophie would stand as far apart… — John Crowley Copy Share Image
“... their lives were full of quiet drama, full of vague yet thrilling signs that life was not as the common run supposed it… — John Crowley Copy Share Image
