All children are heartless. They have not grown a heart yet, which is why they can climb tall trees and say shocking things and leap so very high that grown-up hearts flutter in terror. Hearts weigh quite a lot. That is why it takes so long to grow one. But, as in their reading and arithmetic and drawing, different children proceed at different speeds. (It is well known that reading quickens the growth of a heart like nothing else.) Some small ones are terrible and fey, Utterly Heartless. Some are dear and sweet and Hardly Heartless at all.
Catherynne M. ValenteThings that are unsightly: birthmarks, infidelity, strangers in one's kitchen. Too much sunlight. Stitches. Missing teeth. Overlong guests.
Catherynne M. ValenteI will not let her speak because I love her, and when you love someone, you do not make them tell war stories. A war story is a black space. On the one side is before and on the other side is after, and what is inside belongs only to the dead.
Catherynne M. ValenteDo you suppose you will look the same when you are an old woman as you do now? Most folk have three facesโthe face they get when theyโre children, the face they own when theyโre grown, and the face theyโve earned when theyโre old. But when you live as long as I have, you get many more. I look nothing like I did when I was a wee thing of thirteen. You get the face you build your whole life, with work and loving and grieving and laughing and frowning.
Catherynne M. ValenteSeptember did not want to feel for the Marquess. Thatโs how villains get you, she knew. You feel badly for them, and next thing you know, youโre tied to train tracks. But her wild, untried heart opened up another bloom inside her, a dark branch heavy with fruit.
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. Valente