Quote

I keep thinking about a tale my nurse used to read to me about a bird whose wings are pinned to the ground. In the end, when he finally frees himself, he flies so high he becomes a star. My nurse said the story was about how we all have something that keeps us down.

Shannon Hale

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Shannon Hale
Age: 50
Born: 1974
Born: January 26
Author
Fantasy Author
Novelist
Screenwriter
Writer
Salt Lake City
Utah
Stories
Whose
Nurse
Used
Becomes
Tales
Something
Stars
Keeps
Thinking
High
Wings
Story
Finally
Pinned
Read
Star
Frees
Keep
Ground
Flies
Ends
Bird
Tale

More quotes by Shannon Hale

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I'm going to find whoever is responsible for me sleeping out side with outside without pillows and kick them in the shins!-Enna
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She dismounted, grabbed Enna's hand so tightly that she drew blood with her fingernails, walked straight into the nearest cottage, and plopped down on a bed. Enna nodded to the startled cottage dwellers. It's the queen, you see, said Enna. She's going to have a baby in your house. You don't mind?
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... If we don't tell strange stories, when something strange happens we won't believe it.
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There you go...let it all slide out. Unhappiness can't stick in a person's soul when it's slick with tears.
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Years ago, before this estate was generously and unwillingly turned over to the crown, the lord here was a genuine dimwit. He had a minister stashed behind his throne to whisper clever things to say.
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I can see that one can never pay back Gilsa for the fear that she will give again.
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No more crying. It's all wetness and no comfort at all.
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Really, becoming a writer sounds more like a mental illness than a professional choice.
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Saying my story makes me want to change it, make it sound pretty the way I do with the stories I tell the workers. I'd like it to have a beginning as grand as a ball and an ending in a whisper, like a mother tucking in a child for sleep.
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My ma says You can't unspill a stew. She also says Undoing a wrong is greater than doing a right. You know, Ma is very good at saying two things at once.
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When the mountain quaked Like an elbow's nudge Like a shout that something is wrong The people awoke and Knew, yes, knew, that bandits had come
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Her eyes were distant, and she seemed to be listening to that voice that first told her the story, a mother, sister, or aunt. Then her voice, like her singing, cut through the crickets and crackling fire.
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A heart is a heart in a child or a man.
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Enna leaned back her head and laughed at the sky. 'Of course he wasn't! Who could kill Razo?
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Ani felt a stirring, a hope, a winged thing waking up in her chest and brushing her heart with it's feathers.
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And Isi always listened, never told Enna she had been foolish, never said hollow things like 'You'll be all right.' . . . Isi saw Enna's struggle and her sadness, and she understood.
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How I keep trying to force our story into a fairy tale, but from the beginning, it's been more like a nursery rhyme. Bizarre and adorable? Just like you. With rings in your pockets and bells on your toes Ooh, I should really invest in some toes bells.
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As a general rule, writing is very inconvenient.
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I am not sure I am ready to know what I think about that, so I dare not write it out.
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If you're listening Big Brother, I refuse to be Fanny Price.
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