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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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The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not.
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Esse quam videri, Celia says. To be, rather than to seem.
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You believe you could not live with the pain. Such pain is not lived with. It is only endured. I am sorry.
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Natural talent is a questionable phenomenon. Inclination perhaps, but innate ability is extremely rare.
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You don't have to be a chef or even a particularly good cook to experience proper kitchen alchemy: the moment when ingredients combine to form something more delectable than the sum of their parts.
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All empires fall eventually. It is the way of things.
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You look like a ghost, Bailey says. He can think of no better way to describe it. You appear the same way to me, so which of us is real?
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The Cloud Maze. “ An Excursion in Dimension A Climb Though the Firmament There Is No Beginning There Is No End Enter Where You Please Leave When You Wish Have No Fear of Falling
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Where do you get your ideas? people ask. Sometimes they’re at the bottoms of cups of tea. Sometimes they’re lurking in my shower. Sometimes they’re waiting patiently in glass cases in museums.
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When you meet someone new who instantly gets you, your sense of humor and your attitudes and your worldview, even if theirs are different - and you get them in return. You both talk and talk and agree and laugh and nod and yes, yes, of course you should get another round of drinks.
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I'm a firm believer that lighting affects mood, and twinkly lights on strings bring something magical to occasions ranging from concerts to weddings, though I'm fond of using them as year-round home decor. There's a reason why they're sometimes called fairy lights. When the night is right, there aren't any strings at all.
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He forgets that he was someone's dream once, himself.
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The night that seemed endless hours before is now slipping through your fingers, ticking by as it falls into the past and pushes you towards the future.
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I cannot let a place that is so important to so many people fade away. Something that is wonder and comfort and mystery all together that they have nowhere else. If you had that, wouldn't you want to keep it?
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I have absurdly vivid dreams.
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I wished for her,” he says.
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I binge write. I think it's because I started seriously writing by participating in National Novel Writing Month, an online-based challenge to write 50,000 words in 30 days.
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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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„I forgive you for stealing my shawl.“ She smiles as he laughs. And then she vanishes. A simple trick of distracting his attention long enough to slip out through the hall, despite the lingering temptation to stay.
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I saw in details while she saw in scope. Not seeing the scope is why I am here and she is not. I took each element spearately and never looked to see that they never did fit together properly
Erin Morgenstern