I'm not lost, because I haven't any idea where to go that I might get lost on the way to. I'd like… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
You know how we can be about things which sparkle and shine. We imagine they will put back something of what has… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
You and I, being grown-up and having lost our hearts at least twice or thrice along the way, might shut our eyes… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
But lost children always find each other, in the dark, in the cold. It is as though they are magnetized, and can… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
If one did not have at least a little luck, one would never survive childhood. But luck can be spent, like money;… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
Such lonely, lost things you find on your way. It would be easier, if you were the only one lost. But lost… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
..what came before has dissolved from me, lost like milk teeth. But I think, rather, that it has always been as it… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
When I saw him I thought I could curl up inside him and go to sleep and never wake up." "Men are no good… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
We all just keep moving, September. We keep moving until we stop. — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
“You couldn't ever really fix a sad story. You could only make another. And another. And another, until you found the right one at… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
“He considers it for a moment and spits out the seeds, which sprout, quickly, into tiny junkblossoms sizzling with recursive algorithms. The algorithms wriggle… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
“Truly, Mallow yearned to know everything. Curiosity was part of her, like her short blond hair and bitten fingernails.” — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
“The cicada lies in the earth for seventeen years. It is warm and dark there, it is soft and wet. Its little legs curl… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
We all live inside the terrible engine of authority, and it grinds and shrieks and burns so that no one will say: lines on… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
Her heart was bruised by the kiss, smashed and surprised and unsettled by it. September thought kisses were all nice, sweet things asked for… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
“September put her hand on the grip of the Rivet Gun. She’d only just gotten it, and she’d promised to take copious notes for… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
Just tell yourself a story that'll satisfy you and pretend he told it. — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
“You see, the future is a kind of stew, a soup, a vichyssoise of the present and the past. That's how you get the… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
Fairy tales have always been about getting through the worst of everything, the darkest and the deepest and the bloodiest of events. They are… — Catherynne M. Valente Copy Share Image
