Patricia A. McKillip Quotes

The odd thing about people who had many books was how they always wanted more.

You fought for your freedom and won a different kind of prison. I will fight for mine—"
"You can't fight me," Tearle reminded him harshly.
"I know." In the placid light, his face looked chilled and very weary. "But I can die.

I didn’t know anymore what love meant, or why we were not all better off without it.

I thought of you with your hair silver as snow all through that cold, slow journey from Sirle. I felt you troubled deep within me, and there was no other place in the world I would rather have been than in the cold night riding to you. When you opened your gates to me, I was home.

At its best, fantasy rewards the reader with a sense of wonder about what lies within the heart of the commonplace world. The greatest tales are told over and over, in many ways, through centuries. Fantasy changes with the changing times, and yet it is still the oldest kind of tale in the world, for it began once upon a time, and we haven't heard the end of it yet.

Shall I add a man to my collection?

The idea of fairyland fascinates me because it's one of those things, like mermaids and dragons, that doesn't really exist, but everyone knows about it anyway. Fairyland lies only in the eye of the beholder who is usually a fabricator of fantasy. So what good is it, this enchanted, fickle land which in some tales bodes little good to humans and, in others, is the land of peace and perpetual summer where everyone longs to be? Perhaps it's just a glimpse of our deepest wishes and greatest fears, the farthest boundaries of our imaginations. We go there because we can; we come back because we must. What we see there becomes our tales.

But you must stop playing among his ghosts — it's stupid and dangerous and completely pointless. He's trying to lay them to rest here, not stir them up, and you seem eager to drag out all the sad old bones of his history and make them dance again. It's not nice, and it's not fair.

Then you will have to trust me. Beyond logic, beyond reason, beyond hope, trust me.

What concern of mine are your affairs? Or Coren’s? What kind of peace would there be in me or in my house if I took interest in the wars and feuds that you weave in the courts below? I do not understand such things. I understand only what lies within my walls.

That's the beginning of magic. Let your imagination run and follow it.

I do not want to choose which one of you I must love or hate. Here, I am free to do neither. I want no part of your bitterness.

Perhaps there had never been anything at all to see.

Do you care for me at all? Or do you only need me?

He was silent a moment, struggling. He said finally, “But you had a right to be angry.” “Yes. But not to hurt those I love, or myself.”