Seanan McGuire Quotes

Paperwork is a magic in and of itself. It makes spouses out of strangers, makes homes out of houses…and mades students out of runaways.

There would be time to grab something from the dining hall before she had to go to English class. The thought of having to analyze the poetry of Emily Dickinson without calories was enough to make her want to cry. Why adults constantly wanted to know what centuries-old poems meant was beyond her. Shouldn’t someone have found the right answer by now? Or at least an answer good enough to accept?

Sometimes 'fair' is bigger than just you," said the Archivist.…"Sometimes 'fair' has to think about what's best for everyone.

There are many good things in the world, and each of them happens for the first time only once, and never again.

“There might be spiders,” said Jacqueline. She wrinkled her nose, less out of actual distaste and more out of the knowledge that she was supposed to find spiders distasteful. She really found them rather endearing. They are sleek and clean and elegant, and when their webs got messed up, they ripped them down and started over again. People could learn a lot from spiders.

Sumi was Sumi. Spending time with her was like trying to form a close personal relationship with a cloud of butterflies. Pretty—dazzling, even—but not exactly companionable. And some of the butterflies had knives, and that was where the metaphor collapsed.

Mysteries in books were the best kind. The real world was absolutely full of boring mysteries, questions that never got answered and lost things that never got found. That wasn’t allowed, in books. In books, mysteries were always interesting and exciting, packed with daring and danger, and in the end, the good guys found the clues and the bad guys got their comeuppance. Best of all, nothing was ever lost forever. If something mattered enough for the author to write it down, it would come back before the last page was turned. It would always come back.

We can’t make things that happened not have happened by wishing that they hadn’t.

Hope is a vicious beast. It sinks in its claws and it doesn’t let go.

My name’s Christopher. I was a friend of Jack’s before she went back to the Moors. I mean, not really. Jack doesn’t have friends, she has minions who haven’t figured out their place in the grand scheme of things.

Time resumed.
Time had a way of doing that.

New things are the best kind of magic there is.

“Jack?” Kade took a cautious step forward. “Are you…?”
“There are only a certain number of possible ways to end that question, and the answer to all of them is ‘no,’” said Jack.

, , and and , and , we're calling your names.

Clothes matter," he said, draping the vest over his arm and reaching for a pile of neatly folded blouses. "Clothes are part of how you learn to feel like yourself, and not someone who just happens to look like you. Don't you remember what it was like when someone else decided what you were going to wear?