She poured the water, arranged some bread near enough the embers to scorch but not catch fire, and looked up at Little John. She was so accustomed to his step, to his bulk, that it took a moment to notice his face; and when she did . . . It was, she thought, rather like the moment it took to realize one had cut one's finger as one stared dumbly at the first drop of blood on the knife-blade. You know it is going to hurt quite a lot in a minute.
Robin McKinleyIt wasn't so long ago when all the so-called scientists said that humans were intelligent and that animals weren't, humans were the solitary unchallenged masters of the globe and probably the universe and the only question was whether we were handling our mastery well. (No. Next question.)
Robin McKinleyI don't differentiate in the way that the genre creators want differentiation to be made. I feel that I have never written children's or YA stories particularly.
Robin McKinleyFeeling at peace, however fragilely, made it easy to slip into the visionary end of the dark-sight. The rose shadows said that they loved the sun, but that they also loved the dark, where their roots grew through the lightless mystery of the earth. The roses said: You do not have to choose.
Robin McKinleythe bus timetable sites are all run by an inbred cabal of malicious gnomes. Who donโt speak English. And who donโt count very well either. Or tell time. And they certainly canโt read maps.
Robin McKinley