Quote

I wonder sometimes what the memory of God looks like. Is it a palace of infinite rooms, a chest of many jeweled objects, a long, lonely landscape where each tree recalls an eon, each pebble the life of a man? Where do I live, in the memory of God?

Catherynne M. Valente

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Catherynne M. Valente
Age: 45
Born: 1979
Born: May 5
Literary Critic
Novelist
Poet
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Seattle
Washington
Cat Valente
Men
Tree
Chest
Life
Memories
Chests
Like
Wonder
Landscape
Live
Lonely
Pebble
Looks
Memory
Pebbles
Many
Infinite
Palace
Sometimes
Objects
Palaces
Long
Rooms
Recalls

More quotes by Catherynne M. Valente

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Whenever one does extraordinary things, someone is bound to try to repeat them for themselves. It's the way of the world.
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I savor bitterness - it is born of experience. It is the privilege of one who has truly lived.
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The great blessing and great cruelty of youth is that there seems to be time enough.
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Snow is the beginning and the end of everything.
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We all just keep moving, September. We keep moving until we stop.
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An equation is a prophecy that always comes true.
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The future is a messy, motley business, little girl.
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Hats have power. Hats can change you into someone else.
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Tell it fast before you get scared and silence yourself. You'll never wish you'd held back a little more.
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And as we watched, the Tsar of Death lifted up his eyelids like skirts and began to dance in the streets of Leningrad.
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I’m a monster,” said the shadow of the Marquess suddenly. “Everyone says so.” The Minotaur glanced up at her. “So are we all, dear,” said the Minotaur kindly. “The thing to decide is what kind of monster to be. The kind who builds towns or the kind who breaks them.
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I burn, I freeze I am never warm. I am rigid I forgot softness because it did not serve me.
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First, the avid student must be aware that when the world was young it knew only seven things: water, life and death, salt, night, birds and the length of an hour.
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She did not want to read this book from start to finish, or rather, she thought perhaps it did not want her to. Instead she practiced the art of bibliomancy, trusting the book to show her what it wanted her to know.
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Someone ought to write a novel about me.
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No, not like this, when I have not seen you without your skin on, when I know nothing, when I am not safe. Not you, whose name all my nightmares know.
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All things are strange which are worth knowing.
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Well, very splendid and very frightening. But splendid things are often frightening. Sometimes, it's the fright that makes them splendid at all.
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Funny how question contains the word quest inside it, as though any small question asked is a journey through briars.
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Temperament, you'll find, is highly dependent on time of day, weather, frequency of naps, and whether one has had enough to eat.
Catherynne M. Valente