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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.

Erin Morgenstern

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Erin Morgenstern
Age: 46
Born: 1978
Born: July 8
Novelist
Writer
Forgiving
Hall
Despite
Slips
Shawl
Laughing
Halls
Distracting
Stay
Trick
Vanishes
Attention
Stealing
Lingering
Simple
Forgive
Laughs
Enough
Temptation
Slip
Long
Tricks
Smiles

More quotes by Erin Morgenstern

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There is so much that glows in the circus, from flames to lanterns to stars. I have heard the expression “trick of the light” applied to sights within Le Cirque des Reves so frequently that I sometimes suspect the entirety of the circus is itself a complex illusion of illumination” .
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I think that's a hallmark of a really good story that it has readers that it speaks to more than others.
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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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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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Chandresh relishes reactions. Genuine reactions, not mere polite applause. He often values the reactions over the show itself. A show without an audience is nothing, after all. In the response of the audience, that is where the power of performance lives.
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It's helpful for me to get ideas - the physical action of painting. Sometimes it frees up your writer brain. It's nice for me now that the writing has become a serious career that painting can become more like a hobby.
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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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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 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
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I have been surrounded by love letters you two have built each other for years, encased in tents.
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Like stepping into a fairy tale under a curtain of stars.
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Each of them always gravitating toward the other. Yet still they do not touch.
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He forgets that he was someone's dream once, himself.
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They say it's darkest before the dawn, but it also tend to be quietest, and the quiet lets you hear yourself better.
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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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I am tired of trying to hold things together that cannot be held.
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I paint very messy. I throw paint around. So when I let myself do the same sort of thing with my writing, and I would just write and write and write and revise, that's when I found my rhythm in writing.
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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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I'm an emotional sort of person in general and I have a vivid imagination, so I feel the whole spectrum of emotion strongly when I write.
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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.
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