“However it ends, at least you had a story to tell.”
“How the story is read is very important is it soft, is it in dry way or smooth...”
“My story isn t over until I win.”
“Everything s a story — You are a story — I am a story.”
“The untold story was written by our hearts and sealed with a kiss.”
“I was mortified by the prospect of becoming hopelessly trapped in someone else s story.”
“I didn t find my story; it found me, as autobiography always does: finds you out in your deepest most private places.”
“A law of life: at the precise instant when someone tells a truth, that truth is transformed into a story”
“The rules say that to tell a story you need first of all a measuring stick, a calendar, you have to calculate how much time has passed between you and the facts, the emotions to be narrated.”
“Every lip you kiss will start a different story in you.”
“Make up a story... For our sake and yours forget your name in the street; tell us what the world has been to you in the dark places and in the light. Don t tell us what to believe, what to fear. Show us belief s wide skirt and the stitch that unravels fear s caul.”
“A story is a letter that the author writes to himself, to tell himself things that he would be unable to discover otherwise.”
“You are never too old to become younger!”
“Chronicler shook his head and Bast gave a frustrated sigh. How about plays? Have you seen The Ghost and the Goosegirl or The Ha penny King? Chronicler frowned. Is that the one where the king sells his crown to an orphan boy? Bast nodded. And the boy becomes a better king than the original. The goosegirl dresses like a countess and everyone is stunned by her grace and charm. He hesitated, struggling to find the words he wanted. You see, there s a fundamental connection between seeming and being. Every Fae child knows this, but you mortals never seem to see. We understand how dangerous a mask can be. We all become what we pretend to be. Chronicler relaxed a bit, sensing familiar ground. That s basic psychology. You dress a beggar in fine clothes, people treat him like a noble, and he lives up to their expectations. That s only the smallest piece of it, Bast said. The truth is deeper than that. It s... Bast floundered for a moment. It s like everyone tells a story about themselves inside their own head. Always. All the time. That story makes you what you are. We build ourselves out of that story. Frowning, Chronicler opened his mouth, but Bast held up a hand to stop him. No, listen. I ve got it now. You meet a girl: shy, unassuming. If you tell her she s beautiful, she ll think you re sweet, but she won t believe you. She knows that beauty lies in your beholding. Bast gave a grudging shrug. And sometimes that s enough. His eyes brightened. But there s a better way. You show her she is beautiful. You make mirrors of your eyes, prayers of your hands against her body. It is hard, very hard, but when she truly believes you... Bast gestured excitedly. Suddenly the story she tells herself in her own head changes. She transforms. She isn t seen as beautiful. She is beautiful, seen. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Chronicler snapped. You re just spouting nonsense now. I m spouting too much sense for you to understand, Bast said testily. But you re close enough to see my point.”
“... If we don t tell strange stories, when something strange happens we won t believe it.”
“Cassia. I know which life is my real one now, no matter what happens. It’s the one with you. For some reason, knowing that even one person knows my story makes things different. Maybe it’s like the poem says. Maybe this is my way of not going gentle. I love you. (Ky Markham)”
“Myth is much more important and true than history. History is just journalism and you know how reliable that is.”