Quote

I do love to sing. Had I a longer set of thigh bones and a sweeter voice, I should have loved to be a performer.

Gregory Maguire

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Gregory Maguire
Age: 70
Born: 1954
Born: June 9
Novelist
Writer
Albany
New York
Voice
Sweeter
Love
Thighs
Performer
Performers
Bones
Sing
Longer
Loved
Thigh

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As long as people are going to call you lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention.
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But his face had that hollow look, as if there was something gone... you know that look. The inward focus. Distantly attentive to the home you're missing, or the someone you're missing. That look that a bird has when it turns it dry reptilian eye on you. That look that doesn't see you because the mind is filled up with someone it would rather see.
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And a puzzle is for the piecing together, especially for the young, who still believe it can be done.
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It was mild monsters like these that made Jack the Ripper go after young women, she decided: who could tolerate yielding the world to someone who behaved as if she had given birth to the very world herself?
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Yes, I'm nervous. You'll find in time most people are. They simply learn better how to disguise it, and sometimes, if they're wise, how to use their anxiety to serve the public good.
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When the times are a crucible, when the air is full of crisis, those who are the most themselves are the victims.
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If one could drown in the grass, thought Elphie, that might be the best way to die.
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If you have an ancestor who is a Benedictine monk, we would rather not know it.
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Behold the male beast roaring in the jungle for his mate, said Elphaba. See how the female beast giggles behind a shrub while she organizes her face to say, Pardon dear, did you say something?
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So let my hands and my face make their way in this world, let my hungry eyes see, my tongue taste.
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Happy endings are still endings.
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So she listened hard. And she began to evolve, because stories work their magic that way. They build conviction and erode conviction in equal measure.
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In summer moonlight, she was dangerously, inebriatingly magnified.
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Does the devil ever struggle to be good again, or if so is he not a devil?
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That's all I want- to do no harm.
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My first job was scooping ice cream at Friendly's in Albany, New York. I hated the work, most of my colleagues, and the uniform, and I more or less lost my taste for ice cream permanently.
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Perhaps family itself, like beauty, is temporary, and no discredit need attach to impermanence.
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In the end, all disguises must drop.
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So he stalked her again. Love makes hunters of us all.
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She's sent the crows out to blind the guests coming for dinner! What? She's BLINDING THE GUESTS COMING FOR DINNER! Well, that's one way to avoid having to dust, I suppose.
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