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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Her smile was peculiar - it made her nose wrinkle, not as though she smelled something unpleasant, but more that she was so amused, her whole face wanted to be a part of the smile.
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Goodness knows she is too fierce for you Goodness knows she has eyes for a lord Goodness knows she yet will prove untrue Her cheek's blush is as false as her word
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It doesn't seem to matter what we think...The prince will come up here and look at us as if we're barrels in a trader's wagon. And if I'm salt pork and he doesn't care for salt pork, then there's nothing I can do.
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Ah, now, don't cry over lost years and forgetfulness. The tales tell what they can. The rest is for us to learn.
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He had a dashing smile. It nearly dashed right off his face.
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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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Razo knew he was best at nothing, except maybe cramming two cherries into a single nostril.
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Will you accompany me in this dance?” he said, bowing and holding out his hand. “No, thank you.” Miri smiled. The prince frowned and looked and the chief delegate as if for assistance. Miri laughed self consciously. “I, uh, I was teasing.
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. . . as long as there are movement and harmony, there are words.
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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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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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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.
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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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Clearly she was expected to say something, but panic at having to speak stole the thoughts from her head.
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... If we don't tell strange stories, when something strange happens we won't believe it.
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You are my butterfly and refuse to set you free.
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You saw my leg? How can a man help what he sees? he said. And, if I could add, you possess a very fine leg.
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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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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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Throwing herself into learning helped Miri ignore the painful chill of solitude around her.
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