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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.

Erin Morgenstern

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Erin Morgenstern
Age: 46
Born: 1978
Born: July 8
Novelist
Writer
Night
Falls
Past
Endless
Fingers
Seemed
Towards
Hours
Ticking
Future
Pushes
Fall
Slipping

More quotes by Erin Morgenstern

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So it’s really best to keep your secrets when you have them, for their own good, as well as yours.
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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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...the thrill of being surrounded by something wondrous and fantastical, only magnified and focused directly at her. The feel of his skin against hers reverberates across her entire body, though his fingers remain entwined in hers.
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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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It's not a real name, she says. Not one that he's carried with him always. It's one he wears like his hat. So he can take it off if he wants.
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Taking his time, as though he has all of it in the world, in the universe, from the days when tales meant more than they do now, but perhaps less than they will someday, he draws a breath that releases the tangled knot of words in his heart, and they fall from his lips effortlessly. The circus arrives without warning.
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I think looking forward will be better than looking back.
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People don’t pay much attention to anything unless you give them reason to
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I am tired of trying to hold things together that cannot be held.
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He remembers when he was very small his mother once said she wished happiness and adventure for him. If this does not count as adventure, he is not sure what does.
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I don't always write in order, so composing multi-book stories could get complicated.
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I’ve missed you,” he whispers softly. The air between them is electric as he leans in, gently brushing his lips against her neck. In the next room, the guests complain about the sudden increase in temperature. Fans are drawn from colorful bags, fluttering like tropical birds.
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But you built me dreams instead.
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I do not see as well without her. I do not hear as well without her. I do not feel as well without her. I would be better off without a hand or a leg than without my sister.
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He spends the majority of the evening in the company of Celia Bowen, whose elaborate gown changes color, shifting through a rainbow of hues to compliment whoever she is closest to.
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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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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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And there are never really endings, happy or otherwise. Things keep going on, they overlap and blur, your story is part of your sister's story is part of many other stories, and there is no telling where any of them may lead.
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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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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.
Erin Morgenstern