I'm not a writer because I want to make money. I'm a writer because I'm a very slow thinker, but I do care about thinking, and the only way I know how to think with any kind of finesse is by telling stories.
That's what misbehavior is all about, just a little extra loving being asked for.
Little critters fried like fritters come out crunchy and divine.
For fun? Maybe evil is an art form.
Oh, everything is gorgeous once it's gone.
While I pride myself on trying to be creative in all areas of my life, I have occasionally gone overboard, like the time I decided to bring to a party a salad that I constructed, on a huge rattan platter, to look like a miniature scale model of the Gardens of Babylon.
The story of Mirror Mirror is in many ways a story about evolution. Its about the evolution of a child into an adult. Its about the evolution of those dwarves into something a little less rock-like, a little more humanoid. Its about the evolution of history, too, from the darkness of the Middle Ages into the light of the Age of Reason.
And it's a cold place the world, especially when warmed by arsen.
My job is to protect you, Lady Glinda even if you are loosing your mind.
In a sense, Out of Oz is an examination of how individuals keep going, keep reinventing themselves and their lives, even after life-altering complications have afflicted them.
I actually prefer female voices to listen to, mostly, but among the male singers whose voices I like are Jeff Buckley, Art Garfunkel, that sort of voice. Contemporary crooners rather than rockers.
Small steps to the madhouse still get us there at last
...and he kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, little by little by little.
I do love to sing. Had I a longer set of thigh bones and a sweeter voice, I should have loved to be a performer.
I was just about to begin writing Mirror Mirror, within about a week of it, when September 11, 2001 happened. I found myself incapable of caring about fiction-making for a number of months.
I like classical music of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, and I adore Bach above all.
This is why you shouldn't fall in love, it blinds you. Love is wicked distraction.
Speaking uses us up, speeds us up. Without prayer, that act of confession for merely existing, one might live forever and not know it.
No one is exempt from grief.
The moon rose, an opalescent goddess tipping light from her harsh maternal scimitar.
Her sister's shoes. They sparkeled even in the darkening afternoon. They sparkeled like yellow diamonds, and embers of blood and thorny stars.
Starlight and comet tails burned the tips of endless grass below into hammered silver. Like thousands of tapers in the chapel, just blown out but still glowing. If one could drown in the grass...it might be the best way to die.
Even God used silence as a strategy.
Not everyone is born a witch or a saint. Not everyone is born talented, or crooked, or blessed; some are born definite in no particular at all. We are a fountain of shimmering contradictions, most of us. Beautiful in the concept, if we're lucky, but frequently tedious or regrettable as we flesh ourselves out.
Galinda didn't often stop to consider whether she believed in what she said or not; the whole point of conversations was flow.
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