“Have I heard all the stories I need to hear?" she asked, stupidly. But he answered as if it were a good question. "No, you haven't. But you don't have time to hear any more from me. So listen for… — Katherine Catmull Copy Share Image
We never really know what might be beside us or ahead, but most days we walk as if we do. — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“The bird music sank into her, like a song you used to know but forgot long ago. You hear a piano play it some… — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“But when you find your soul, you have to go. When you find your true shape, when the wind lifts you up, when you… — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“She wasn't a cruel Bird. But her heart ached so badly for these sad, broken birds that, just as the Puppeteer had planned, she… — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“We never really know what might be beside us or ahead, bust most days we walk as if we do. (from uncorrected galley)” — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“Well, I don't care," said Bird out loud, said Bird, who cared so much that she couldn't bear to touch the hurt. "I don't… — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“Have I heard all the stories I need to hear?" she asked, stupidly. But he answered as if it were a good question. "No,… — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“A map is a song. It's different when different people sing it. . .You will make this your own song, sing it your own way.” — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
A nursery rhyme shapes your bones and nerves, and it shapes your mind. They are powerful, nursery rhymes, and immensely old, and not toys,… — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“She was only half Bird now, and the other half song. She liked it that way.” — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
In her dance, she controlled the bright paper birds with invisible wires and threads. She played the human: heavy, tied to earth. Her dances… — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
Sometimes sense hides behind walls. You must find a window and stick your head right in before you can see it. — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
The pinpoint flame of anger and grief becomes a hot needle, then a hot knife.It melts the frost that binds her lips.It melts the… — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“We never really know what might me beside us or ahead, but most days we walk as if we do” — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
“And I love everything on this changing, burning earth, but I am most grateful to you.” — Katherine Catmull Copy Share
