Quote

Only the ship is made of books, its sails thousands of overlapping pages, and the sea it floats upon is dark black ink.

Erin Morgenstern

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Erin Morgenstern
Age: 46
Born: 1978
Born: July 8
Novelist
Writer
Pages
Overlapping
Sea
Sails
Books
Ink
Dark
Floats
Upon
Sail
Black
Ship
Book
Ships
Made
Thousands

More quotes by Erin Morgenstern

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Celia. he says without looking up at her, why do we wind our watch? Because everything requires energy, she recites obediently, eyes still focused on her hand. We must put effort and energy into anything we wish to change.
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Why haven’t you asked me how I do my tricks?” Celia asks, once they have reached the point where she is certain he is not simply being polite about the matter. “Because I do not wish to know,” he says. “I prefer to remain unenlightened, to better remain in the dark.
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I think looking forward will be better than looking back.
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I wished for her,” he says.
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Have you ever thought about it, about simply leaving? Really, truly thought about it with the intent to follow through and not as a dream or a passing fancy?
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Comic-Con was crazy, good crazy... Five minutes after I'm done, the cast of 'Twilight' is where I was sitting.
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But dreams have ways of turning into nightmares.
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Do you remember all of your audiences? Marco asks. Not all of them, Celia says. But I remember the people who look at me the way you do. What way might that be? As though they cannot decide if they are afraid of me or they want to kiss me. I am not afraid of you, Marco says.
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I'm kind of big on performance in general. I like the sort of entertainment where you can go in and be fully immersed in it.
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It is destroying me that I cannot ask you to dance.
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I have absurdly vivid dreams.
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I am already married, she remarks to the empty air, twisting the ring on her right hand that covers an sold, distinctive scar.
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The sensation reminds him of the first snow of winter, for those first few hours when everything is blanketed in white, soft and quiet.
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I am a fan of magic and fantasy, particularly when it's grounded in reality.
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Misdirection is one of my strengths.
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Celia laughs and a curl of her hair falls across her cheek. Marco tentatively moves to brush it off her face, but before his fingers reach her, she pushes herself off the ledge, her silver gown a billowing cloud as she falls onto the pile of jewel-toned cushions.
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A woman I should like to think I know rather well and a woman I had always considered a mystery, are in fact the same person.
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Marco knows he does not have the time to push her away, so he pulls her close, burying his face in her hair, his bowler hat torn from his head by the wind....Trust me, Celia whispers in his ear, and he stops fighting it, forgetting everything but her.
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I like that once upon a time quality, where the telling of a tale has an elevated sense of story. There's a whimsical quality to it. Sometimes in fairy tales more things seem possible, even though often they're real world based.
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I am haunted by the ghost of my father, I think that should allow me to quote Hamlet as much as I please.
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