Jane Yolen

"Fifteen years can be a long or a short time, depending upon whether one is immortal or not."

"Madness also makes folks uneasy; they fear contagion."

"For what was art, she thought, but the heart and soul made visible."

"There is no liar like the one who lies to himself. He has a fool indeed for an audience."

"Princesses did not make scenes. One needed to be a queen to do that."

"“No, you cannot…must not…shall not…may not…” to everything that seemed even the slightest bit interesting or exciting or dangerous. So Waverly did what every child of ten does. He did it all anyway."

"Looking backward was an old man’s drug."

"Know, my son, that the enemy will always be with you. He will be in the shadow of your dreams and in your living flesh, for he is the other part of yourself."

"Overhead the swallows dipped down to catch bugs rising from the ground. Then they soared back up beyond the barracks. Hannah watched them for a moment, scarcely breathing. It was as if all nature ignored what went on in the camp. There were brilliant sunsets and soft breezes. Around the commandant’s house, bright flowers were teased by the wind. Once she’d seen a fox cross the meadow to disappear into the forest."

"She filled the pot, got out a new filter, threw the old one onto the garbage, and counted out five tablespoons of Columbian Supreme. Then she waited while the magic of modern invention turned tap water into a hot dark-brown caffeine-powered drink. It was better than any Biblical miracle and risked no beliefs."

"“I’ll drive. You navigate.” He grinned. “I judge people by how well they read maps.”"

"Time may heal wounds, but it does not erase the scars."

"“Will you write the story?” “If there is one.” “Happy ending or no?” He was serious. She attempted a smile. “Fairy tales always have a happy ending.” He leaned back in his chair. “That depends.” “On what?” “On whether you are Rumplestiltskin or the Queen.”"

"She hated to lie but she hated arguments even more."

"It is not crazy to want to know the past. It is only crazy to live there, like so many of the aristocracy."

"Wars do not make heroes of everyone."

"Wars may make heroes of men, but not all the time."

"“We are all sleeping princesses some time. But it is better to be fully awake, don’t you think?”...“Americans do not want to be awake?” “Oh,” Becca said, “we like the truth all right. When it’s tidy.” “Truth is never tidy. Only fairy tales.”"

"“Dad, everyone knows Beelson is a nutcase! You should hear the things they say about him in school.” My father looked at me sadly. “I thought you didn’t believe in basing your life on what everyone else says, Mr. Nonconformist.” “OK, skip what everyone else says. I think he’s nuts.”"

"But when I asked Mom, she shrugged and looked up at the sky. She had given up looking at me when we talked. “Reverend Beelson told us God would provide,” she said, as if reading that in the clouds. “And he does not lie.” It wasn’t clear if she meant Reverend Beelson or God."

"I actually said a little prayer of my own then, my first since we had arrived: Please, God—get me out of this nuthouse!"

"But you know how it is: As soon as you decide to forget something, your brain comes to the conclusion that it’s the most fascinating thing in the world."

"We had more church after supper, with a long sermon from Reverend Beelson. He talked about wars and earthquakes and floods as signs that the End was coming. Which made me wonder if he had somehow managed to not notice that wars, earthquakes, and floods have been going on since the beginning of history. But I didn’t say anything. It wasn’t worth the effort."

"The thing about signs from God is that you can never be sure. In the morning, going to the Porta Potti, I saw a deer. There was also a dead pigeon being a smorgas-bird for crows near the perimeter when I went with a message for an Angel. And the shed skin of some small snake that Grahame had collected. If those were signs, what did they mean? God loved me? God hated me? God didn’t care?… I saw more signs than I can remember. The moon was still shining like a pale penny at noon. There was an eagle wheeling overhead at four. A pair of bluejays squabbled in a fir tree when I came out of the Place of Eating after dinner. God was saying yes? God was saying no? God wasn’t speaking at all?"

"I took a deep breath. God…I prayed. And then I realize that I had nothing more to say to him. Nothing at all."

"But I scolded myself, That’s magical thinking, Marina. Consider instead what’s real."

"“Did we do wrong in believing, Marina?” Mom asked suddenly. “Never in believing, Mom,” I said. “Just in what we believed.”"

"I’m not saying it was all for the best. (That’s one of the great stupid phrases of all time, imho.)"

"I think that a speculative literature from a culture that has been on the receiving end of the colonization glorified in some SF could be a compelling body of writing. Look at the work of the Jewish speculative fiction writers, like Jane Yolen's novel Briar Rose, which uses the elements of the folktale as a lens into the horrors of the Holocaust, and never once allows readers to romanticize the experience. It's brilliant."