Quotes from Sandra Newman

Not everyone is meant to change the world. We let the world change around us. We let it die if it will. We live small lives, constrained by habit and fear.

Is only skew insanities, how God survive when we all kilt. How any person worship gods, when gods ain't even brave to die.

And after all, belief was a beautiful thing. That was the trouble with atheists (Kate thought); they might be right, but their unbelief was utilitarian, bleak, like a Brutalist building.

Yo, I feel this been the truth of all our time together. We always been a grief that huddle close against a vicious light.

The dream was strongest of all when Kate's heart was broken. Then she fell asleep as if falling out of life, and the dream became numinous as real things are numinous, vivid even as it blankly slept. She couldn't prove it even to her own satisfaction, but she felt the dream was quickened by love.

An obese man came, who walked with a cane and was accompanied by a limping, rotund dachshund, to ask when the veterinarian was coming to do the free clinic; then he and Billy stooped over the dachshund, which shut its eyes gratefully while they inspected its teeth.

In fact, whenever Ben thought about it, his worry would slowly evaporate. But when he didn't think about it, it niggled and made him need to think about it again.

She added in a tight, defensive voice that she panicked when she did jobs, it gave her existential panic. She could do them for a while, but it felt like darning socks in a burning building. Time was running out and . . . Did he ever get that?

El Mayor drink twice and thrice then crouch down to the radio. He tweak its side, and its voice halt in silence. His shoulders ease. Then I surprise how my own fear relieve. Radio voice been like the voice of flies when your best child is dead.

I let my gaze sink to the darken ground. The moon pick out the bitty grass, can see a balden dandelion gray with night. And now first consider what become of Pasha's missing teeth. Children can lose teeth from hunger. Teeth bash out in war. No glad adventure lead to gappen teeth.

Outdoors; everything one might dream. The fairy-gray clouded sky and the fairy-green misted wood. Her tall horse shying at a sparkling brook. All dreams.

I ride hard to fetch the roo.

How it can be, that Ice Cream ain't existing anywhere. Will be no me to know that I ain't there.

He laughed and came forward impulsively to kiss her—his affection a potent thing, a flourish of light. She was smiling, her tears feeling fresh on her face. He smelled of sweat and roses. She felt it in the palms of her hands, in her loins. It was right. It was Southampton she had wanted all along.

But he was left with the all-too-familiar feeling of having been infected by insanity, of being drawn into someone else's insanity.

She was a candle in the night, a bright seed of heaven.

There can be no friendship between our peoples. We live in your nightmares, and you are but our dreams.

Some days, she was pain incarnate. She would suffer all day and he would try to cheer her up and fail, and he felt like an irrelevant gnat.

Pasha stalk beside, my monster fabulous and tame, and be like fleeing every worry to a secret hush.

The dream was greater than a dream. It was a greater life than life.

The maidservants all were in love with Southampton, in a rapt, unhoping way, like a tribe of poets in love with the moon; one would have a fit of tears, then it spread to another and another, until all the house heaved with love's calamity.

She was alone like a cat, like an owl, as if she walked unobserved, out of her human life.

She could hide in this small, dull life.

It was a white pandemonium with the wrong past.