Elena had always felt like the center of her own world - who doesn't? The world arranged itself around her like petals around the stem of a flower. This way the meadows, that way the woodland. Over here, the baryn's estate, out there, the hills that hug the known world close and imply a world at beyond. She could never come up with the edge of a world, because it always kept going on beyond. She moved the center of the world as she walked. The world was balanced on her head.
Elphaba looked like something between an animal and an Animal, like something more than life but not quite Life.
Oh now that's a blueprint for an impossibly rosy future
We start out in identical perfection: bright, reflective, full of sun. The accident of our lives bruises us into dirty individuality. We meet with grief. Our character dulls and tarnishes. We meet with guilt. We know, we know: the price of living is corruption. There isn’t as much light as there once was. In the grave we lapse back into undifferentiated sameness
She watched the sun bleed water out of the icicle. Warm and cold working together to make an icicle. Warm and cold anger working together to make a fury, a fury worthy enough to use as a weapon against the old things that still needed fighting.
There may be no city in the clouds, but dreaming of it can enliven the spirit.
Before you save anyone else, you have to save yourself. otherwise, you'rejust a bundle of tics, a stringed puppet manipulated by the chance and the insensible wind.
Behold the male beast roaring in the jungle for his mate," said Elphaba. "See how the female beast giggles behind a shrub while she organizes her face to say, Pardon dear, did you say something?
How deeply bound by cords of family anger we all are[...]None of us breaks free.
People always did like to talk, didn't they? That's why I call myself a witch now: the Wicked Witch of the West, if you want the full glory of it. As long as people are going to call you a lunatic anyway, why not get the benefit of it? It liberates you from convention.
...I dabble in causes and effects.
...the reasons just reassemble themselves in different patterns every time I think about it.
The real thing about evil," said the Witch at the doorway, "isn't any of what you said. You figure out one side of it - the human side, say - and the eternal side goes into shadow. Or vice versa. It's like the old saw: What does a dragon in its shell look like? Well no one can ever tell, for as soon as you break the shell to see, the dragon is no longer in its shell. The real disaster of this inquiry is that it is the nature of evil to be secret.
Everyone dies. It's a question of where and how, that's all.
My first job was scooping ice cream at Friendly's in Albany, New York. I hated the work, most of my colleagues, and the uniform, and I more or less lost my taste for ice cream permanently.
From torched skyscrapers, men grew wings.
To look into the mirror is to see the future, in blood and rubies.
I may not be sure if monsters exist, but I’d rather live my life in doubt than be persuaded by a real experience of one.
Perhaps family itself, like beauty, is temporary, and no discredit need attach to impermanence.
Are you an aberration to your species?' she cried. 'Cats don't look for approval!
Children are wickeder than adults, they have no sense of restraint.
The melody faded like a rainbow after a storm, or like winds calming down at last; and what was left was calm, and possibility, and relief.
The thing about a mirror is this: The one who stares into it is condemned to consider the world from her own perspective.
We only have babies when we're young enough not to know how grim life turns out. Once we really get the full measure of it--we're slow learners, we women--we dry up in disgust and sensibly halt production.
If one could drown in the grass, thought Elphie, that might be the best way to die.
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