Chyertiโthatโs us, demons and devils, small and bigโare compulsive. We obsess. Itโs our nature. We turn on a track, around and around; we march in step; we act out the same tales, over and over, the same sets of motions, while time piles up like yarn under a wheel. We like patterns. Theyโre comforting. Sometimes little things changeโa car instead of a house, a girl not named Yelena. But itโs no different, not really. Not ever.
Catherynne M. ValenteThis is what it means to be a woman in this world. Every step is a bargain with pain. Make your black deals in the black wood and decide what youโll trade for power. For the opposite of weakness, which is not strength but hardness. I am a trap, but so is everything. Pick your price. I am a huckster with a hand in your pocket. I am freedom and I will eat your heart.
Catherynne M. ValenteRespect me. Be proud, and if you love me, a little afraid, because love so often looks like fear. We are alike. We are alike.
Catherynne M. ValenteThis is what comes of having a heart, even a very small and young one. It causes no end of trouble, and thatโs the truth.
Catherynne M. ValenteAt the snowy summit of all these things, however, is the fact that you simply cannot go about locking your siblings in towers when they misbehave. It is unseemly and betrays a sad lack of creativity.
Catherynne M. ValenteBecause Iโm a cat. A big one, the Panther of Rough Storms, in fact. But still a cat. If thereโs a saucer of milk to spill, Iโd rather spill it than let it lie. If my mistress grows absent-minded and leaves a ball of yarn about, Iโll bat it between my paws, and unravel it. Because itโs fun. Because itโs what cats do best.
Catherynne M. Valente