Patricia A. McKillip Quotes

Night is not something to endure until dawn. It is an element, like wind or fire. Darkness is its own kingdom; it moves to its own laws, and many living things dwell in it.

Perhaps there had never been anything at all to see.

Imagination is the golden-eyed monster that never sleeps. It must be fed; it cannot be ignored.

She lies like the moon lies, a different face every night, all but one of them false, and the one true face as barren and hard as stone. Why do you believe her?

Love and anger are like land and sea: They meet at many different places.

He kissed her anyway, lightly on the cheek, before she turned to get her coat, thinking how long he had known her and how little he knew her and how little he knew of how much or little there was in her to know.

Water has its moods, flowing or still; it can lure you like a lover, or look as bleak as a broken heart.

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.

I was running from my own thoughts as much as anything. I simply wanted to untangle myself from the web I had touched. A single, sticky, quivering strand of it was all I needed to warn me away. I did not want to think about people. I wanted the trees, the scents and colors, the shifting shadows of the wood, which spoke a language I understood. I wished I could simply disappear in it, live like a bird or a fox through the winter, and leave the things I had glimpsed to resolve themselves without me.

I could not find my way back in dreams, I knew then. They were memory and desire, terror and hope; they told me only what I already knew.

But dear, you hate to sew.

I will be married soon. Lady Thiel says a woman with needlework in her hands is generally assumed to have no other thoughts in her head and can safely harbor any number of improprieties. That will come in handy, especially when I'm married to a wizard.

Epics are never written about libraries. They exist on whim; it depends on if the conquering army likes to read.

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.

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.”

Those who fear the imagination condemn it: something childish, they say, something monsterish, misbegotten. Not all of us dream awake. But those of us who do have no choice.