Someone ought to write a novel about me,โ said Lebedeva loftily. โI shouldnโt care if they lied to make it more interesting, as long as they were good lies, full of kisses and daring escapes and the occasional act of barbarism. I canโt abide a poor liar.
Catherynne M. ValenteWe treat our stone wives with much more care than they treat their warm ones, anyway. I personally dust mine once a week, and I know Khaamil gives them presents when I am not looking. These are yours - they are in your care, and you must be faithful.
Catherynne M. ValenteTrue names,โ said September wonderingly. โThese are all true names. Like, when your parents call you to dinner and you donโt come and they call again but you still donโt come, and they call you by all your names together, and then, of course, you have to come, and right quick. Because true names have power, like Lye said. But I never told anyone my true name. The Green Wind told me not to. I didnโt understand what he meant, but I do now.
Catherynne M. ValenteThat's Venus, September thought. She was the goddess of love. It's nice that love comes on first thing in the evening, and goes out last in the morning. Love keeps the light on all night.
Catherynne M. ValenteWhen I say forever,' Koschei whispered, 'I mean until the black death of the world. An Ivan means just the present moment, the flickering light of it, in a green field, his mouth on yours. He means the stretching of that moment. But forever isn't bright; it isn't like that. Forever is cold and hard and final.
Catherynne M. Valente