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Smell is the voice of the soul.

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
Smell
Voice
Soul

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I’ve always believed that as an author, I do 50% of the work of storytelling, and the reader does the other 50%. There’s no way I can control the story you tell yourself from my book. Your own experiences, preferences, prejudices, mood at the moment, current events in your life, needs and wants influence how you read my every word.
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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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No wolf falters before the bite So strike No hawk wavers before the dive Just strike
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Gerti didn’t ask for help.” Miri swallowed and tried to calm her quavering voice. “It was my fault.” “So it was. Now you all have learned that those who speak out of turn choose punishment for themselves and anyone they speak to.” “So if I speak to you, Tutor Olana, will you get the lashes?
Shannon Hale
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Razo knew he was best at nothing, except maybe cramming two cherries into a single nostril.
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He did a very good impression of a stone column.
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Her nightmare clung to her like the smell of smoke to cloth.
Shannon Hale
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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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Life is short, so live extra lives. Read books.
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A heart's a heart, in a child or a man. You are tougher than you feel right now. Your roots are deep, your canopy's spread wide. You're going to show everyone what it means to be a king.
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I couldn’t remember the last time I had stayed up into the squeaky hours of the night because I couldn’t put a book down, and that was a tragedy.
Shannon Hale
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She was born Anidori-Kiladra Talianna Isilee, Crown Princess of Kildenree, and she did not open her eyes for three days.
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Some people are born with the first word of a language resting on their tongue though it may take some time before they can taste it.
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I always knew it was ill-fated, but he truly believed I would be his bride. I guess I'd never realized that before. He had taken my mucker hand and looked at my mottled face and believed we would wed. And he hadn't seemed sorry. In fact, he'd swooped me up in a corridor and kissed me. That set me to crying.
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Sometimes my fancy gets to floating inside me, threatening to carry me away like a leaf on a wind. Better to be a stone.
Shannon Hale
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And new, too. Remade. Ready to move again. Listening was the start, she decided. Doing was the next step.
Shannon Hale
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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.
Shannon Hale
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Time is a wind that keeps blowing in my face and mumbling words that don't make sense.
Shannon Hale
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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.
Shannon Hale
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No more crying. It's all wetness and no comfort at all.
Shannon Hale