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That's Venus, September thought. She was the goddess of love. It's nice that love comes on first thing in the evening, and goes out last in the morning. Love keeps the light on all night.

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
Night
Evening
Light
Keeps
Thought
Goes
Firsts
Nice
First
Morning
Thing
Lasts
Venus
Love
Last
Goddess
Comes
September

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Remember this when you are queen,” he whispered hoarsely. “I moved the earth and the water for you.
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Hats have power. Hats can change you into someone else.
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We all live inside the terrible engine of authority, and it grinds and shrieks and burns so that no one will say: lines on maps are silly.
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She is so stubborn, her heart has an argument with her head every time it wants to beat.
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Temptation likes best those who think they have a natural immunity, for it may laugh all the harder when they succumb.
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Everybody's strange everywhere. Most of the trick of being a social animal is pretending you're not. But who do you fool? Nobody worth talking to.
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When I saw him I thought I could curl up inside him and go to sleep and never wake up. Men are no good for that, Masha. They'll always want you working, when you're not softening their fall into bed at the end of the day.
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In both marriage and war you must cut up the things people say like a cake and eat only what you can stomach.
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I am the Walker and the Maze.
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Bad luck relies on absolutely perfect timing.
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One of the many quotes on love...Love can come only with time and sentience. We learn it as we learn language--and some never learn it well. Love is like a tool, though it is not a tool something strange and wonderful to use, difficult to master, and mysterious in its provenance.
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Your past's a private matter, sweetheart. You just keep it locked up in xbox where it can't hurt anyone.
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The man who knelt before her would have sprung from her needles, even down the ghostly flecks of silver in his hair. She had not known before that she wanted all these things, that she preferred dark hair and a slightly cruel expression, that she wishes for tallness, or that a man kneeling might thrill her.
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We like the wrong sorts of girls, they wrote. They are usually the ones worth writing about.
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It appeals to the higher nature of the self to put aside food which once lived - I do not consider myself food, why should I ask all other creatures to consider themselves so?
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Humanity lived many years and ruled the earth, sometimes wisely, sometimes well, but mostly neither.
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Magic does that. It wastes you away. Once it grips you by the ear, the real world gets quieter and quieter, until you can hardly hear it at all.
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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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September knew a number of curse words, most of which she heard the girls at school saying in the bathrooms, in hushed voices, as if the words could make things happen just by being spoken, as if they were fairy words, and had to be handled just so.
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Even if you’ve taken off every stitch of clothing, you still have your secrets, your history, your true name. It’s hard to be really naked. You have to work hard at it. Just getting into a bath isn’t being naked, not really. It’s just showing skin.
Catherynne M. Valente