Quote

It’s an odd thing, happiness. Some people take happiness from gold. Or black pearls. And some of us, far more fortunate, take their happiness from periwinkles.

Patricia A. McKillip

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

Patricia A. McKillip
Age: 76
Born: 1948
Born: February 29
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Salem
Oregon
Patricia Anne McKillip
Take
Thing
Periwinkle
People
Pearls
Odd
Fortunate
Gold
Happiness
Black

More quotes by Patricia A. McKillip

Image
Shall I add a man to my collection?
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
I don't teach lies, but I do not teach all I know is true.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Love and anger are like land and sea: They meet at many different places.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Research the imagination. It was as obsolete as the appendix in most adults, except for those in whom, like the appendix, it became inflamed for no reason.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
I write fantasy because it's there. I have no other excuse for sitting down for several hours a day indulging my imagination. Daydreaming. Thinking up imaginary people, impossible places.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
I would be mute, beautiful, changless as the earth for you. I would be your memory, without age, always innocent, always waiting in the King's white house. I would do that for you and no other man inthe relm. But it would be a lie and I will do anything but lie to you - I swear that.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Words, he decided, were inadequate at best, impossible at worst. They meant too many things. Or they meant nothing at all.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Here in Raine, I can walk with the sunlight on my face. I can speak to anyone who speaks to me. I can learn my daughter's language. I can be called the name I was given when I was born. Here I am no longer my own secret. Will you let me stay?
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
But you must stop playing among his ghosts -- it's stupid and dangerous and completely pointless. He's trying to lay them to rest here, not stir them up, and you seem eager to drag out all the sad old bones of his history and make them dance again. It's not nice, and it's not fair.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Do you become in visible?' 'No. I'm there, if you know how to look. I stand between the place you look at and the place you see. Behind what you expect to see. If you expect to see me, you do. I listen in places where no one expects me to be.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Content, it dreams awake, and spins the fabric of tales. There is really nothing to be done with such imagery except to use it: in writing, in art.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
What? It was a good word. Like a rock in a river, sticking up to let you land on it, so you could make your way across the flow.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Imagination is best fed by reality, an odd diet for something nonexistent there are few details of daily life and its broad range of emotional context that can't be transformed into food for the imagination.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
All I wanted, even when I hated you most, was some poor, barren, parched excuse to love you. But you only gave me riddles.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
The man was hit in one eye by a stone, and that eye turned inward so that it looked into his mind, and he died of what he saw there
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Those who fear the imagination condemn it: something childish, they say, something monsterish, misbegotten. Not all of us dream awake. But those of us who do have no choice.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Men see what they are most afraid of.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
Peace, tremulous, unexpected, sent a taproot out of nowhere into Morgan's heart.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
The moon grew full, then slowly pared itself down until it shriveled into a ghostly boat riding above the roiling dark. Then it fell out of the sky. They climbed into it, left land behind, and floated out to sea.
Patricia A. McKillip
Image
I thought of you with your hair silver as snow all through that cold, slow journey from Sirle. I felt you troubled deep within me, and there was no other place in the world I would rather have been than in the cold night riding to you. When you opened your gates to me, I was home.
Patricia A. McKillip