Hivert Katherine Quotes & Sayings

I was normal, I reminded myself. Just a regular seventeen-year-old girl, about to face against a werewolf with nothing more than ... Okay, well, I did have a big-ass sword and a ghost. That had to count for something.
I glanced over at Elodie. She was staring into the woods, looking vaguely bored.
"Um, hi," I said. "Werewolf headed this way. Are you even a little concerned about that?"
She smirked at me and gestured toward her glowing body. I read her lips: "Already dead."
"Right. But if I get killed, too, you and I are so not becoming ghost BFFs."
Elodie gave me a look that said there was no danger of that happening. — Rachel Hawkins

The writer must have a good imagination to begin with, but the imagination has to be muscular, which means it must be exercised in a disciplined way, day in and day out, by writing, failing, succeeding and revising.
[The Writer's Digest Interview: Stephen King & Jerry B. Jenkins (Jessica Strawser, Writer's Digest, May/June 2009)] — Stephen King

And why did everyone persist in thinking the mute was exactly as they wanted him to be
when most likely it was all a very queer mistake? ... In the battling tumult of voices he alone was silent. — Carson McCullers

question authority — Timothy Leary

Southerners make good novelists: they have so many stories because they have so much family. — Gore Vidal

Everything, all those great things, had happened so far away
or so it seemed to [Mma Ramotswe] at the time. The world was made to sound as if it belonged to other people
to those who lived in distant countries that were so different from Botswana; that was before people had learned to assert that the world was theirs too, that what happened in Botswana was every bit as important, and valuable, as what happened anywhere else. — Alexander McCall Smith

I don't deny that I had a very privileged upbringing, but my parents and that town maintained a sense of normalcy that I think many people find hard to achieve, and I am so grateful for that. — Dylan Penn

But the point is, when the writer turns to address the reader, he or she must not only speak to me - naively dazzled and wholly enchanted by the complexities of the trickery, and thus all but incapable of any criticism, so that, indeed, he can claim, if he likes, priestly contact with the greater powers that, hurled at him by the muse, travel the parsecs from the Universe's furthest shoals, cleaving stars on the way, to shatter the specific moment and sizzle his brains in their pan, rattle his teeth in their sockets, make his muscles howl against his bones, and to galvanize his pen so the ink bubbles and blisters on the nib (nor would I hear her claim to such as other than a metaphor for the most profound truths of skill, craft, or mathematical and historical conjuration) - but she or he must also speak to my student, for whom it was an okay story, with just so much description. — Samuel R. Delany

Goodbye!" "Oh, not goodbye!" he protested. "I mean to know you better, Miss Lanyon of Undershaw!" "To be sure, it does seem a pity you should not, after such a promising start, but life, you know, is full of disappointments, and that, I must warn you, is likely to prove one of them. — Georgette Heyer