She was not filled up with the sight of him, the way she had seen her sisters fill up, like silk balloons, like wineskins. Instead, he seemed to land heavily within her, like a black stone falling.
Catherynne M. ValenteI have tried to write stories that go into the underworld of myth and bring out life and fire โ where the old world looked at a woman alone and immortal and said: she must long to die, I have tried to say: look at her live!
Catherynne M. ValenteMarya Morevna, we are better at this than you are. We can hold two terrible ideas at once in our hearts. Never have your folk delighted us more, been more like family. For a devil, hypocrisy is a parlour game, like charades. Such fun, and when the evening is done we shall be holding our bellies to keep from dying of laughter.
Catherynne M. ValenteThat stirring which had fluttered in her on first glimpsing the seaโthat stirring landlocked children know so wellโmoved in her now, with the golden stars over head, and the green fireflies glinting on the wooded shore. She carefully unfolded the stirring that she had so tightly packed away. It billowed out like a sail, and she laughed, despite herself, despite hunger and hard things ahead.
Catherynne M. Valente