Quotes from Shannon Hale

Is it far?" she asked. "About three hours, ma'am," he said, keeping his eyes on the pavement. "Another three hours." She tried to think of something witty and British to say. "I already feel like a thrice-used tea bag." He didn't smile. "Oh. Um, I'm Jane. What's your name?" He shook his head. "Not allowed to say." Of course, she thought, I'm entering Austenland. The servant class is invisible.

so thick with cobwebs it seemed like skeletons had decorated for a party. Raven fought her way through the webs to the far wall and ripped the velvet cloth off the mirror. She saw her own reflection staring back—long black hair with purple highlights, dark eyebrows

I love you, you're perfect, you're everything, you toast my marshmallows, baby.)

You be Europa, and I'll be your Jupiter

She pulled a pillow over her head and waited to die. When an hour passed and she still wasn't dead, she got up and pruned the rosebushes.

Madeline Hatter. Her lavender-streaked teal hair exploded around her in messy curls. The polka-dotted, striped, and lacy layers of her skirt were bunched and fluffed. Her teacup hat tilted low over one ear. "Whoops

The doings of the quarry had always seemed some bright, forbidden secret. Now it was her secret, and holding it to herself felt warm and delicious, like drinking the last cup of honeyed tea.

Life feels like fall of itself." "'A dream within a dream." "And I want to wake up.

I'm going to be a tilting boat," he said. "I'm going to be taking in a lot of water, and perhaps I'll keel over or perhaps I'll sink." "That was quite a metaphor." "I can't talk about it straight. It hurts.

Willow tree And whispers three Together make a tasty tea In forests they do glow Whence we do not know But in the teapot they will go

Then let me have my destiny, whatever it is. Don't break the world before I can find my own path!

She looked to her right and saw terror frozen on Britta's and Esa's faces like ice on a windowpane.

More like him than she'd ever imagined possible. His brown eyes were warm, his brown skin speckled with dirt from the road, his broad face comfortingly familiar. Inside the great void of despair that had filled her since her father's death, she felt a pinprick of hope. And then Rollan reached out and took her hand. His fingers were warm. Meilin had never been so aware of the beating of her heart.

Tell me, is it evil to simply try to control your own life?

He did a stunning impression of a stone column," said Miri.

I am single because apparently the only good men are fictional.

What do llamas smell like?" "Chkt." "Like an ancient terror ready to shed its skin and devour the world? How do you even—

Ani saw herself clearly in that moment, as a face in darkness gains sudden dimensions in a flash of lightning - a young girl, a silly thing, a lapdog, a broken mare.

I know muckers are the simplest of commoners and becoming a lady's maid is a right honor, but I couldn't give up the wild steppes forever, couldn't turn my back on Mama and all she taught. I feel like a mucker from the ends of my hair to the mud of my bones.

Eating breakfast with no gentlemen and that Heartwright girl poaching on my men--this isn't what I was promised." She looked at Aunt Saffronia with the eye of a haggler. Aunt Saffronia placed her hands in her lap, a calming gesture. "I know, my dear, but they will be back, and in the meantime…" "I didn't come here for the meantime. I came for the men.

I'm here!" Years ago, her mother used to host hundreds of guests at that dining table. Tonight, as usual, the only diners were Raven, her father, Cook, and Cook's four-year-old sons. "Raven!" Butternut and Pie said in unison. They had hair as orange as Butternut's namesake and faces as round as Pie's.

Miri almost told Marda then of feeling like the outcast of the quarry and the mean, tight spot of jealousy she had harbored in her heart for years. But the sensation was loosening, and it did not seem to matter as much anymore.

Rin thought of the crossbow bolt. Of the whoosh and sting of wind and fire heat and the man who would have killed her. Of pushing in front of Enna. Of almost dying. Of home and Ma and being farther away than the lands in tales, and maybe never going home. Of standing by a strange tree in a faraway wood with girls who spoke the language of fire. Of a queen of Kel who wanted them dead.

We are ill-fated in that our society demands we engage in unworthy conversations and dances in order to seem courteous, and yet such actions are ultimately vulgar.