Quote

The book smelled dusty and old but also carried a sweet tang, a hint of something inviting. She opened to the first page and started to read, pronouncing the words in a reverent whisper.

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
Read
Hints
Words
Whisper
Pronouncing
Also
Carried
Tang
Firsts
Opened
Reverent
Book
Page
Dusty
First
Pages
Smelled
Something
Sweet
Hint
Started
Inviting

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For one thing, everyone there is so clever. Do they think me dull? Perhaps I should assure them that our goats enjoyed listening to me for hours on end. I am certain their bleats meant Do go on, Miri, darling. You are immensely entertaining. Your immensely entertaining sister, Miri
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WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE: RAPUNZEL For horse thieving, kidnapping, jail breaking, and using her hair in a manner other than nature intended! REWARD
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... If we don't tell strange stories, when something strange happens we won't believe it.
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The snow was too light to stay, the ground too warm to keep it. And the strange spring snow fell only in that golden moment of dawn, the turning of the page between night and day.
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She closed the book and put her cheek against it. There was still an odor of a library on it, of dust, leather, binding glue, and old paper, one book carrying the smell of hundreds.
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... and with my last thought I felt some real sympathy for those poor chickens.
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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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Ani told them all...telling more than needed telling, the stories clarifying and unifying themselves in her mind as she let them spill out of her mouth.
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His brothers could tease him about his height or the number of scars he was collecting on his body. He could take the joke when they said he would die having never won a fair wrestling match. But the topic of Bettin still smarted too much. He'd imagined being with her always. Now when he closed his eyes, he had trouble imagining anything else.
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...all things speak, in their way, don't they?
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No more crying. It's all wetness and no comfort at all.
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He nodded. And if I don't make you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world every day of your life, then I don't deserve to be near you.
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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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You can be who you will,” he repeated. His voice softened. “And if you will have me, I will be the one beside you.
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You are my butterfly and refuse to set you free.
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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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Hey, times are tough, and thirty gold coins can do a lot of good. But I guess you wouldn't know about needing money, since you grew up like a little princ... (Rapunzel glares) Prin... soner. I mean, prisoner! A prisoner in a tower, such a shame, that.
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I cannot write to anyone outside myself--if I tried, it would be a horrible story, flat and lifeless. I write to myself. That's the only person I'm trying to please.
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Razo hopped back up and adopted a posture that said he was completely unruffled, never had been, and in fact was ready to do something manly like lift boulders or swallow live worms.
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Really, becoming a writer sounds more like a mental illness than a professional choice.
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