Emma Trevayne Quotes & Sayings

I know as soon as we hit the sweet spot, an intangible instant when the music gains control of fluttering wings to take real flight - soaring, swooping, diving and rising in the small studio. No single one of us is in control. The wall of sound is its own thing - lifted, weight shared, by five pairs of hands. I shake hair from closed eyes just because I need to move. If I let the pressure build and build and keep it in my hands, in the guitar, I'll explode. We carve out places for the verses, the chorus repetitions, and the coda. We line the edges of sonic space with rhythm and melody and stand Scope's sharp samples at each corner. — Emma Trevayne

A land of brass and steel and clockwork, of steam airships, cogs that turned and wheels that spun. — Emma Trevayne

Having everything to lose feels strangely the same as the reverse. — Emma Trevayne

The landscape always changed, but the magic never did. The tales were told to children wrapped up in sheets, to frighten or to soothe, but those doing the telling didn't have to believe. Perhaps it was just as well that they didn't, for the stories got so much of it wrong. They always do. The legends told of dragons and faeries, of locked towers and imprisoned princesses, and this was true enough. — Emma Trevayne

I'm holding myself together with hands callused by strings. — Emma Trevayne

We've lost so much. We might lose more. But for now I can sit here, under the trees and sky, and pull music from the strings. — Emma Trevayne

When I first saw you, you were like ... ' He shakes his head, tugs gently on my hair. 'A rainbow. I always knew you came with a storm. — Emma Trevayne

And here you are, a stripling of a boy who has already survived the worst this land can throw at a body, but suddenly ready to give up after one mistake?" Dr. Snailwater's voice grew fierce. "You should be grateful some things can be fixed."
"What if I can't?" Jack asked in a small voice.
"Then you try again! — Emma Trevayne

The number of times he'd had to pinch his nose to keep his soul in so that he'd make no noise while peering through the parlor keyhole... — Emma Trevayne

Other than this, the room was entirely still, as if such a grand clock had stolen even the time it took for a dustmote to float across a sunbeam, needing every minute, every second it could find. — Emma Trevayne

Maybe anger only needs the right melody, the right rhythm to be beautiful. — Emma Trevayne

The toy soldiers gathered a few more flakes of dust on their shelves; the books stayed shut and squeezed together, telling their stories only to themselves between their covers. — Emma Trevayne