Quotes About Transformation

Hats change everything. September knew this with all her being, deep in the place where she knew her own name, that her mother would still love her even though she hadn't waved good-bye. For one day, her father had put on a hat with golden things on it and suddenly he hadn't been her father anymore, he had been a soldier, and he had left. Hats have power. Hats can change you into someone else.

But no one may know the shape of the tale in which they move. And, perhaps, we do not truly know what sort of beast it is, either. Stories have a way of changing faces. They are unruly things, undisciplined, given to delinquency and the throwing of erasers. This is why we must close them up into thick, solid books, so they cannot get out and cause trouble.

Storytelling can save you. Both the telling and the listening.

The burnt-off connectors and shadows where Ravan once filled my spaces— those, I think, are the sensations of grief.

Perhaps one was not meant to see what a husband looked like before he made himself more or less presentable. Perhaps the republic of husbands was a strange and frightening place full of not only birds, but bats too, and lizards, and bears, and worms, and other beasts waiting to fall out of a tree and into a wedding ring.

Sometimes I am a cicada, hissing and singing in the leaves of a tree by the sunlit water, thoughtless and wordless, a voice that is all consonants and tribal clicks. Sometimes I rub my legs together like a string bass, and the lake quivers

I opened my door and everything they had for me was tainted because the land of Used-to-Be is just full of ghosts starving for your breath.

After so long keeping to herself and tending her secret quietly, all these words just bubbled up out of her her like cool golden champagne.

And the answer is: You are wrong. The Faeries are not gone. But they are no longer what they were. I watched it and did not help them, though I could have. I cheered. I cheered and I wept and I was glad. Perhaps I should not have been. Perhaps laughing at agony is a Fairy's game and I should not have moved my pieces on their board.

She got, instead, a towering confection that might have thought about becoming a sandwich at one point, but had gotten greater ambitions along the way.

When you can change something just by saying a word, that is magic.

Snow White swallows that like a sword. She lets the hammer click back into place. Everything in her that's not nailed down is shaking loose.

they climbed their ladders to wheedle and prune the trees into holiness

Geography was fungible, fluid, unreliable.

En voi huijata. En voi tehdä mitään leikisti. Jopa nyt olen vielä vahva. Minut on alistettava. Aivan kuten merta, isoäitiäni, ei voi muuttaa, minuakaan ei voi muuttaa - minut voi vain valloittaa." Hänen hartiansa lysähtivät. "Mutta olisin mieluummin lempeä. Ja rakastettu. Ja olisin toivomatta mitään, koskaan.

What others call you, you become. It's a terrible magic that everyone can do — so do it. Call yourself what you wish to become.

You can't fix a bad man like a bad staircase.

September suddenly realized something. "But Ell, Orrery begins with O! How can you know so much about it?" The Wyverary soared high, his neck stretching into a long red ribbon, full of words and pies and relief and flying. "I'm growing up!" he cried.

Marya supposed this was why no one asked after stolen fairy tale girls. What embarrassments they turn out to be. They grow tempers; they join the army; they need glasses. Who wants them?

Snow White gets a Social Security card. She gets a job building houses out in California. Picks oranges.

I think I shall never be free. I think I traded me freedom for a better story.

But the moon waxes, and my sadness dries up. Life is like that, of course.

All tamed things are made a bit ridiculous in the process, you know.

And the funny, impish magic of a wrap party is that everyone still has scraps of their characters hanging off them like Salome's veils, fluttering, fading, but not quite finished tangling the tongue and tripping the feet. You're not in Wonderland anymore, but you positively reek of rabbit.