I guess one of the most magnificent things a novel can do is to change your perspective on the world, and to give it some sense of wonder, and that's what I find so exciting in writing fantasy, especially fantasy… — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share Image
“They had been dreamers. Her father always said that this was why they had been easy to conquer.” — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share Image
Whether we think of Disney's blonde beauty and her pumpkin carriage or Marissa Meyer's recent recasting of 'Cinderella' as a cyborg in the young… — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share Image
“For a while there was no other sound than the liquid whisper of my brush across paper, and as I painted,I thought about how… — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share Image
“There it was again. That look, livid with hidden things. A secret. 'What is it, Kestrel? Tell me what's wrong.” — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share Image
“An emotion clamped down on her heart. It squeezed her into a terrible silence. But he said nothing after that, only her name, as if her name were not a name but a question. Or perhaps that it wasn’t how he had said it, and she was wrong, and she’d heard a question simply because the sound of him speaking… — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share
I love seeing a story evolve over several books and watching characters develop. — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share Image
“I can't - Kestrel, you must understand that I would never claim you. Calling you a prize - my prize - it was only words. But it worked. Cheat won't harm you, I swear that he won't, but you must...hide yourself a little. Help a little. Just tell us how much time we have before the battle. Give him a… — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share
“Tch. Lovely lady, won’t you hear my plan? It is the very best. You’ll like it. Here it is: I am waiting.” “Sunbathing.” “Waiting, I say, for you to tell me what to do.” She told him exactly what he could do. “Such language. Did you learn that from Arin? Stop kicking, little ghost. We’re in full view of the… — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share
“Kestrel's eyes slipped shut. She faded in and out of sleep. When Arin spoke again, she wasn't sure whether he expected her to to hear him. 'I remember sitting with my mother in a carriage.' There was a long pause. Then Arin's voice came again in that slow, fluid way that showed the singer in him. 'In my memory, I… — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share
For many, many years, I thought that I wasn't good enough or that I would never be able to create something that could touch… — Marie Rutkoski Copy Share Image
