Katherine Catmull Quotes

Her voice was warm and husky as a clarinet, but not so sad as a clarinet: friendlier. When she laughed, it was like a clarinet blowing bubbles.

That is what I love best about dreams, and about makings, good makings. They are folded-up buds of complications and mysteries, and if you stay with them patiently, they will unfold and unfold, and never stop unfolding. Dreams are flowers that never stop blooming.

The pinpoint flame of anger and grief becomes a hot needle, then a hot knife.
It melts the frost that binds her lips.
It melts the sea in her eyesss.
(from uncorrected galley)

There is no safety, and so we must touch and be touched, and we must fall and fly.

How did you know," Summer would demand, and then decide: "It's probably a coincidence."
"It's not a coincidence," Bird would say. "It's just obvious. Your body just knows."
"But how do you know?"
"How do you know a story is a good story or not?" asked Bird. "Like that. you know like that.

Finn said, "You feel the wind is a bully, beating you. But that is your seeing. That is your story, not the wind's. To a bird who rides it, that wind is only a kind hand. Because the bird rides the wind's power. Do you understand?" Clare, bitter, cold, and wind-battered, frowned stubbornly. "But a bird can fly. I can't fly." He turned to look at her, and his face was troubled. "If you cling to the safety of the rock, indeed you can't. To fly, you open your arms and fall, heart first, trusting the wind to bear you up. That's what the birds do.

She knew what it meant to want to return to safety and seed-husk again. But you cannot get back into your seed-husk, once it is cracked open and no longer yours.

Seeing is 'making,' whether you see with your mind or your true self. Try to see with your self, your self and your beast together, and not your busy, frightened mind.

Well, I don't care," said Bird out loud, said Bird, who cared so much that she couldn't bear to touch the hurt. "I don't care. I ran away from Summer, and I will make my own castle. I will be my own queen.

You don't drown because you can't breathe. You drown because you try to breathe what is not breathable.

We never really know what might be beside us or ahead, bust most days we walk as if we do.
(from uncorrected galley)

The bird music sank into her, like a song you used to know but forgot long ago. You hear a piano play it some day, and for a minute you feel a happy pain, but you don't know why. Bird felt like that.

And I love everything on this changing, burning earth, but I am most grateful to you.

We never really know what might me beside us or ahead, but most days we walk as if we do

A nursery rhyme shapes your bones and nerves, and it shapes your mind. They are powerful, nursery rhymes, and immensely old, and not toys, even though they are for children." "But they make no sense!" Summer protested "Ah, well," said Ben. "Sometimes sense hides behind walls. You must find a window and stick your head right in before you can see it.

She was only half Bird now, and the other half song. She liked it that way.

On water and light she runs.

We have friends in every woods we walk through, though we walk through them not knowing.

Sometimes there is a seed in your heart. It might feel like a stone, or like a bud ready to blossom. It might feel like a heavy little egg, and you have no idea what's inside. It might feel like a hard, burning ember. No seed is the same. But if you let that seed, that feeling-sound, take root, then it will grow. Sometimes it grows quickly, or sometimes very slowly, especially if you don't tend it. It could take months or even years to grow up through your throat and out your mouth. But when you do finally speak it, the birds call that a heart-song.