The Paper Magician Quotes

Ceony shut the book and glanced to her new teacher. "It's . . . amazing, but I admit it's also superficial. Aesthetic."
"But entertaining," he combated. "Never dismiss the value of entertainment, Ceony. Good-quality entertainment is never free, and it's something everyone wants. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Perhaps," Mg. Katter cut in, "she's finally gotten smart. In and out, job done."
Mg. Hughes said, "No. Not her." He paused. "She knows Emery is critical to the syndicate, they all do. He's personally invested in it. That, and she's always kept a . . . keen . . . interest in him. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Then forgive yourself!" she shouted, pushing herself back up. She pressed her palm against the wall for support. "Everyone has a dark side! But it's their choice whether or not they cultivate it. Don't you understand? Lira's exploited hers, but not you. Not you, Emery Thane. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Beside Thane - who watched the setting sun with such peace, with such light in his eyes - the "woman" seemed imaginary.
Because she is, Ceony realized, a second breeze tickling her skirt and blowing loose flower petals across her vision. These are the things Thane - Emery - hopes for.
She studied him, his peace and his contentment, the eyes that seemed to radiate life. She studied the shadowy woman beside him from head to foot. He wants to fall in love again. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

She had fit him into a one-dimensional mold during their first meeting, and had done so with ease. Langston, too. How many others had she judged and set aside like that, thinking them no more than a one-sided piece of paper? ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

He examined the paper, his eyes bobbing as he counted the pieces, and sighed, shoulders slumping. "I'm going to teach you something I really shouldn't be teaching you."
"But given the circumstances," she urged.
He nodded. His lip quirked. "Given the circumstances. Just pretend to forget it once this is over . . . if either of us makes it past this. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

She imagined Mg. Thane's hands over her own, guiding her Folds, and squinted in the candlelight to ensure all her edges aligned and all her creases were straight. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

You didn't 'instruct' me to stay," Ceony countered. "Just to leave the dining room. Which I did."
Mg. Aviosky rubbed the bridge of her nose under her glasses. "This feels very much like detention again, Ceony. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

I'm sorry. I'm a little on edge."
"No need to remind me," Mg. Aviosky quipped just as a real person emerged from that second right, some sort of ledger in his hands.
"There are guests at the door," the man said, closing the ledger. The ensuing burst of air rustled his wavy black hair. In words pitched at a light baritone, he added, "And I would have thought the knock gave it away. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

On count two, she shouted, "I deserve a stipend after this!" The words echoed offbeat with the pulsing walls. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Don't be ridiculous," Mg. Aviosky assured her as Magicians Katter and Hughes studied Mg. Thane lying on the floor by the light of four candles. "The only one who can manipulate Emery Thane's future is Emery Thane himself. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Prit?" she asked. "The boy you bullied in school?"

Emery scratched the back of his head. "'Bullied' sounds so juvenile . . ."

"But it's him, isn't it?" Ceony pushed. "Pritwin Bailey? He became a Folder after all?"

Emery nodded. "We graduated from Praff together, actually. But yes, he's the same."

Ceony relaxed somewhat. "So you two are on good terms, then?"

The paper magician barked a laugh. "Oh, heavens no. We haven't spoken to each other since Praff, save for this telegram. He quite loathes me, actually."

Ceony's eyes bugged. "And you're sending me to test with him?"

Emery smiled. "Of course, in a few days. What better way to prove you had no bias than to place your career aspirations in the hands of Pritwin Bailey?"

Ceony stared at him a long moment. "I've been shot to hell, haven't I?"

"Language, love. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

The heart had the dark to balance out the light, the uncertainty to balance dreams. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Folding his arms, Mg. Thane leaned against the table and asked, "What is the story written on?"
"What sort of question is that?"
"The kind you should answer."
Ceony's eyes narrowed. His tone carried an air of chastisement, but his expression seemed lax enough. "It's obviously written on paper."
Mg. Thane snapped his fingers. "There we are! And paper is your domain now. So make it mean something. And calm down," he said, almost as an afterthought. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

The buggy should be here soon. Do you have your suitcase packed?"

"So eager to get rid of me?"

"Eager?" he repeated, rolling back the sleeves of his favorite indigo coat. "My kitchen will be empty in two days and I'll be forced to purchase my own groceries. How could I be eager for that?"

Ceony smiled and scooped out more egg. "You could always have Jonto cook your meals."

In fact, Emery once had tried to get Jonto to cook his meals. It had taken the paper magician two days to reconstruct the right hand and arm of the paper skeleton, which had burned off after Jonto attempted to light the coals in the oven.

"I'll be sure to stock up on sandwich supplies," Emery murmured.

And all you'll miss is the food, hm?"

His eyes glimmered. "I may miss the mid-night companionship."

Ceony flushed. "Emery Thane!" That was one time.

Emery just chuckled, the cursed man. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Put it down," Ceony said. Clearing her throat, she repeated, "Put it down or I'll shoot you, I swear I will. I'm taking this heart back with me."
Lira's face turned to a scowl so gradually Ceony hardly saw it change. "I'm not letting some ginger tart take what's rightfully mine. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Why hello!" she said, and the dog jumped and pressed its front paws against her knees, then actually licked her with a dry, paper tongue. Ceony laughed and scratched behind its ears. It panted with excitement. "Wherever did you come from?"
The door squeaked again, announcing Mg. Thane's arrival. He looked a little tired, but no worse for wear, and still wore that long indigo coat. "This one won't give me hives," he said with a smile that beamed in his eyes. "It's not the same, but I thought it would do, for now."
Wide-eyed, Ceony slowly stood, the paper dog yapping in its whispery voice and nudging her ankles with its muzzle. "You made this?" she asked, feeling her ribs knit over her lungs. "This . . . this is what you were doing last night?"
He scratched the back of his head. "Were you up? I apologize - I'm not used to having others in the house again. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Staggering to her feet, Ceony stomped her shoe down on the hand twice before it stopped moving. She stomped it twice more for insurance. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

But you can't die!" Ceony cried, and Mg. Thane didn't so much as flinch at the volume, or at the tear that struck him on the bridge of his nose. He didn't seem aware of her at all. "You have too much to teach me! And you're too nice to die! ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Anger. Infidelity. Death. Dark times - that's what these memories were. Ceony had passed through Emery's goodness and his hopes; it made sense to see his darkness, too. To see his hurts and his vices. To see the shadows cast behind those bright eyes. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Crouching, Ceony felt the edge of the giant crack. None of it came away in her fingers, even when she scratched it with her nails. The rock stayed hard and firm. Another handful of sand dropped to the canyon floor, seeming to make no difference in the canyon's depth whatsoever. But Ceony knew that enough handfuls would fill it, eventually. After all, it took time to mend one's heart. Enough time could heal a heart as broken as this one. It was half-healed already. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

I always found bonding incredibly anticlimactic," Mg. Thane commented as he picked up the easel from the chair. "Do you want to save it?"
Ceony blinked a few times and held her bonding hand to her chest. "Save what?"
He shook the large paper in his hand. "Some find it sentimental."
"No," she said, perhaps a little too sharply. Mg. Thane didn't seem to notice and placed the paper against the wall, and the easel atop the table perfectly parallel to the paper stacks. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Hi, Ceony," he said. He then stiffened like a soldier and added, "Magician Thane, it's a pleasure to meet you finally."

Bennet took a few long strides and offered his hand to the paper magician, who stood taller in height by several inches. Emery shook the apprentice's hand with an amused twinkle in his eye. Bennet continued. "I've heard a great many things about you."

"And you still shook my hand?" Emery asked. "Your mother raised you well. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

She didn't know where the factory was, but she didn't need to - the city unfolded itself before her just as every other vision had, directing her toward Emery Thane, for she ran through the secrets of his heart. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

He swept a hand back through his dark hair, and in that moment Ceony saw a flicker in his eyes and a thinning of his lips. He was worried.
"Is everything . . . all right?" she asked, hesitating at the threshold of the library, unsure of her bounds.
"Hm?" he asked, his countenance smoothing between ticks of the library clock. "Quite fine. Do take care, Ceony." He walked down the hallway as far as the lavatory, where he turned around and added, "And keep the doors locked. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Loud footfalls like sarcastic applause sounded in the hallway. Hard shoes with heels. Ceony stepped forward, but Mg. Thane held out his arm, stopping her. All the mirth had vanished from his face. He looked altered - not cheery nor distracted, but stony. Taller, and his coat seemed to bristle about him like a wild cat's fur. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Ceony looked back up to see Lira grab Mg. Thane's collar and rip it down clear to his sternum, exposing his chest. "I'm finally leaving, dearie," she whispered, "and I'm taking you with me."
She plunged her right hand into his chest. Ceony stifled a cry. A golden ring of dust sparkled about Lira's wrist as Mg. Thane screamed between clenched teeth. Lira pulled her red-stained hand back out, clasping a still-beating heart between her bloodied fingers. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

How do you feel?" Ceony asked, her pulse still thundering in her ears. It made her hands shake as she peeled and cut the cucumber. She forced herself to slow down so she wouldn't slice open a finger.
"Like someone has been tromping around in my chest, looking at things they shouldn't be looking at."
Her knife froze mid-slice. She met his eyes and saw knowledge behind their amusement. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

She searched for a possible escape route should she need one and spied the paper skeleton immediately behind her and shrieked for the second time. Who needed ghosts to haunt a house when one could form his own demons out of paper? ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

Fold it like an animation. I'm sure you remember the rules."
Ceony nodded, but as Mg. Thane finished the last Folds, she saw up his loose coat sleeve to a bandage coiled thickly around his right forearm.
Something inside of her twanged, like a fiddle string had been stretched down her torso, fastened between throat and navel. With a soft voice, she asked, "What happened to your arm?"
Mg. Thane's fingers stilled. He glanced up at her, then to his arm. He pulled the sleeve down to the palm of his hand. "Just a bump," he said. "I often forget how much focus walking requires. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

From her pocket she pulled a tiny snowflake, the one she had stowed there after her first day as a Folder. She rubbed her thumb over its tiny, delicate cuts, grateful she hadn't yet washed this particular skirt. The snowflake still felt frosty, just like real snow. Snow he had made for her. All of it had been for her in one way or another, hadn't it?
In the glow of the candlelight she said, "I have to do it. I have to save him."
For she knew no one else would. ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

How many men can honestly say a woman has walked their heart?" he asked. "But I can. And if you'll have me, I'd like you to stay there." Tears welled in Ceony's eyes. She didn't blink them away. Emery reached into his pocket and pulled from it a loop of white and violet paper about the width of his fist, made of dozens of tiny, crisscrossing links. Not a spell, just something crafted to be beautiful. From it hung a gold ring that glimmered rose in the sunlight. A diamond carved in the shape of a raindrop sat at its center, flanked on either side by a small emerald. The paper magician slipped the ring off the paper loop and turned it in his hands. Dropping to one knee, he said, "Ceony Maya Twill, will you marry me?" THE ~ Charlie N. Holmberg

The brown and charred rags that hung from the sides of it, I presently recognized as the decaying vestiges of books. They had long since dropped to pieces, and every semblance of print had left them. But here and there were warped boards and cracked metallic clasps that told the tale well enough. Had I been a literary man I might, perhaps, have moralized upon the futility of all ambition. But as it was, the thing that struck me with keenest force was the enormous waste of labour to which this sombre wilderness of rotting paper testified. ~ H.G.Wells

Once I've got the first draft down on paper then I do five or six more drafts, the last two of which will be polishing drafts. The ones in between will flesh out the characters and maybe I'll check my research. ~ Colleen McCullough

Rock is fine. No structural damage to rock. Rock can break through paper at any point. Just say the word. Paper sucks. ~ Demetri Martin

He loves me like a monster,
all teeth and talk and
hiding in the dark.
That's my specialty -
men with strong bodies
and fragile hearts,
and if you hold them too tightly
they will crumble beneath you
like an avalanche that's waiting.
Still, he looks at me like all things
beautiful and burning
and we love each other recklessly
with hearts so empty
our names echo against
vandalized walls that say,
"There was someone here before me,
listen closely and you'll hear their name."

He has matches for hands,
and I, a paper heart.
Gasoline will drip
from our mouths
and we will call that holy.
We will burn at the stake
and pollute the sky with
smoke and selfishness,
and we will say it was
in the name of a crooked love.
We will burn our own bodies
to the ground and we will
call that sacrifice.
We will tear ourselves open
like there's something left inside.

Nobody ever taught us how to love. ―Lindsey Hobart ~ Lindsey Hobart

One of the biggest, and possibly the biggest, obstacle to becoming a writer ... is learning to live with the fact that the wonderful story in your head is infinitely better, truer, more moving, more fascinating, more perceptive, than anything you're going to manage to get down on paper. (And if you ever think otherwise, then you've turned into an arrogant self-satisfied prat, and should look for another job or another avocation or another weekend activity.) So you have to learn to live with the fact that you're never going to write well enough. Of course that's what keeps you trying
trying as hard as you can
which is a good thing. ~ Robin McKinley

It seems my heart is made of tissue paper; I wish the world would handle it more delicately. ~ Richelle E. Goodrich

I hear the headlines on the radio, see them on TV and read them in the paper. When I hear from the men out there, I sometimes don't believe they are talking about the same situation. ~ Lyndon B. Johnson

On paper, actors are the dumbest group of individuals essentially out there. Most of us have not gone to college. However, we never stop learning. Because of what we do, we're constantly researching, constantly learning. ~ Mike Vogel

The problem with engineers today is that they don't think on paper. ~ Joseph R. Lallo

My brother played with spell-books, I played with swords. One gives you paper cuts, the other removes your fingers. ~ Elise Kova

I was reading the paper and saw a cartoon with Ray Kelly frisking Obama, and I was like "Wait, what's happening?" so I Googled it. For everything Obama stands for and the things he's said in the past in his books, especially with the Trayvon Martin thing - and I'm not sure if he [made his comments on Trayvon] because he was asked a question and he was trying to be diplomatic and neutral - that can't happen. ~ Adepero Oduye

Living with one's passions amounts to living with one's sufferings, which are the counterpoise, the corrective, the balance and the price. When a man has learned - and not on paper - how to remain alone with his suffering, how to overcome his longing to flee, the illusions that others may share, then he has little left to learn. ~ Albert Camus

At the bottom of all the tributes paid to democracy is the little man, walking into the little booth, with a little pencil, making a little cross on a little bit of paper-no amount of rhetoric or voluminous discussion can possibly diminish the overwhelming importance of the point. ~ Winston Churchill

Don't chase the paper, chase the dream, ~ Puff Daddy

Prices too that day indicated the state of affairs. The price of weapons, of gold, of carts and horses, kept rising, but the value of paper money and city articles kept falling, so that by midday there were instances of carters removing valuable goods, such as cloth, and receiving in payment a half of what they carted, while peasant horses were fetching five hundred rubles each, and furniture, mirrors, and bronzes were being given away for nothing. ~ Leo Tolstoy

It might otherwise appear paradoxical that money can be replaced by worthless paper; but that the slightest alloying of its metallic content depreciates it. ~ Karl Marx

Bookworms are the most precious worms in the world when they are humans, feeding upon the paper's body with their starving minds. ~ Munia Khan

The mathematician who pursues his studies without clear views of this matter, must often have the uncomfortable feeling that his paper and pencil surpass him in intelligence. ~ Ernst Mach

In a 1999 paper, Reiner indicates that his data show that with time and age, children may well know what their gender is, regardless of any and all information and child-rearing to the contrary. They seem to be quite capable of telling us who they are, and we can observe how they act and function even before they tell us. ~ Deborah Rudacille

The sound of the pages turning was the sound of magic. The dry liquid feel of paper under fingertips was what magic felt like. ~ Emma Donoghue

I love words. Sudoku I don't get into, I'm not into numbers that much, and there are people who are hooked on that. But crossword puzzles, I just can't - if I get a puppy and I paper train him and I put the - if all of a sudden I'd open the paper and there's a crossword puzzle - 'No, no, you can't go on that, honey. I'll take it.' ~ Betty White

For thirty-five years now I've been compacting old paper and books, living as I do in a land that has known how to read and write for fifteen generations; living in a onetime kingdom where it was and still is a custom, an obsession, to compact thoughts and images patiently in the heads of the population, thereby bringing them ineffable joy and even greater woe; living among people who will lay down their lives for a bale of compacted thoughts. ~ Bohumil Hrabal

Creativity takes courage. Not just once, but consistently. Without courage we cannot be creative. Without feeling fear at some point we will not reach our creative potential. From first putting paint on paper through to selling our work on a worldwide stage there is plenty to be scared of. But this is where creativity lives – on the edge of our comfort zones. ~ Lucy H. Pearce

Parishioners will welcome the assurance, if news of changes and experiments has come their way, that no such changes are contemplated in this parish church; they will not be used as guinea pigs for liturgical experiments. The form used at weddings and at the baptism of their children will be exactly the same as it has been for centuries.

There have been changes in the world around – especially perhaps in the Victorian era, which we are pleased to think of as solid – but human needs are very constant and those who study it will find that the Book of Common Prayer, compiled from ancient sources in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries meets those needs in a manner more realistic than more contemporary efforts in this direction. It is difficult for instance to discover any need in 1966 which is not fittingly brought to God in the 400 year old words of the Litany. So the motto for our public transactions with Almighty God in the churches of our parish will be 'Business as usual'. If any declare that we stick in the mud, we retort that by loyalty to the Prayer Book we stand on a rock. ~ Beeston Parish Paper

Their version of rock-paper-scissors was elephant - fist, mouse - palm, and ant - little finger. The elephant crushed the mouse, the mouse squashed the ant, and the ant crawled up the elephant's trunk and paralyzed his brain. ~ Colin Cotterill

His fingers, frozen in midfidget on his good knee, said
PEOPLE AREN'T SUPPOSED TO ASK ME THAT.
Either that or
I HAVE JUST BEEN SHOT THROUGH THE PAPER SCREEN.
He wasn't bleeding. ~ Jennifer Echols

People sort of take it for granted, but the more you see of the media world the more you appreciate a paper like the Times where its family continues to invest in editorial quality and I think it's the truly is the best paper in the world. ~ David Talbot

He pointed at the paper. "I want you to write me a description of every foot you've put wrong since we met. Make sure I can read your writing. You have five minutes."

Write about every foot I'd put wrong. I peered down at my feet.

I started to write: My left foot is a size eight point five. It has a high arch, and my big toe is longer than my second toe. There is a light smattering of hair on the top of my foot. I paused and stuck my left leg out, studying my shoe. Right now I am wearing Nike Frees for m -
"Bring me your paper."
I glanced at my paper. "I'm not done yet."
"One . . . two . . ."
I brought him the paper. ~ J.A. Rock

The pages afforded glimpses into my soul where I'd hidden it, behind masks of paper and ink. ~ Rachel L. Schade

My husband and I have always been good at creative visualization. Before we quit drugs and got married he'd place tabs of acid on his eyes to see things that weren't there. I'd lay blank sheets of photographic paper on the cornea of developing solution to conjure images. We'd always coaxed dreams from paper, and believed them. ~ Jalina Mhyana

Mickey holds up the soggy paper. DIE. Don't you die. ~ Kathleen Glasgow

Her next words took me by surprise. I lay as still as I could, barely breathing, afraid that if I moved she would stop speaking her heart.
"My mom wanted six children. She only got me, and that sucks for her because I was a total weirdo."
"You were not," I said.
She twisted her head up to look at me.
"I used to line my lips in black eyeliner and sit cross-legged on the kitchen table … meditating."
"Not that bad," I said. "Crying out for attention."
"Okay, when I was twelve I started writing letters to my birth mother because I wanted to be adopted."
I shook my head. "Your childhood sucked, you wanted a new reality."
She snorted air through her nose. "I thought a mermaid lived in my shower drain, and I used to call her Sarah and talk to her."
"Active imagination," I countered. She was becoming more insistent, her little body wriggling in my grip.
"I used to make paper out of dryer lint."
"Nerdy."
"I wanted to be one with nature, so I started boiling grass and drinking it with a little bit of dirt for sugar."
I paused. "Okay, that's weird."
"Thank you!" she said. Then, she got serious again. "My mom just loved me through all of it. ~ Tarryn Fisher

I thought it was pretty good to be mentioned in a big paper, so I decided to keep the nickname. ~ Dick Lane

Sit down and get out a piece of paper and start making lists. Ask yourself, are you in harmony with the things in your life? Are you adopting superficial values? Are you giving your being enough room? Are you doing new and creative things? ~ Frederick Lenz

When you're looking for a sketchbook, you've got to find the right paper for the pens you like to use. I like to draw on both sides of the page. ~ Jeffrey Brown

My granddad was a hard worker, and my dad is, too. It was instilled in me as a kid. I never got pocket money; I had to earn it. I had two paper rounds before school, not just one. Wherever I worked, whether it was at football, in the pub, I'd do whatever was asked of me - and more. ~ Olly Murs