Maria Wallingford > Quotes

“If a lady offers you a kindness, you absolutely have to accept”
― Maria Wallingford, My 12 Months a Troll

“You're like a sluggish frog, Paige. When you're prodded you leap quite a long way, but if you're left to yourself then you're happy to sit about idly.”
― Maria Wallingford, My 12 Months a Troll

“I have this dream where words, millions of
them, are on wings around me. Some are
grey and brown. There are some that are
easy to grab and I've soon got a fistful of
those. But some of them glow in shiny,
shiny colours and they pirouette at my out-
stretched fingertips.
I drop the easy ones like litter at my feet. I
climb a chair to get at the glittery stuff.
Then a ladder.
When I've climbed I see the gold one - a
long, long word that's just lovely in the
mouth. I'm soon teetering on a chimney
pot but it goes as I snatch at it. It flies on
purpose a millimetre from my nail tips as I
swat about. Precariously on tiptoes now. Eyes shut,
jumping to grab. My fingers are crammed
with words in
silver colours,
copper
colours, reds like autumn leaves. But I still
bat uselessly towards the gold word, which
flaps higher and higher until I loose my
footing on the chimney and fall, fall into
the stark white of the empty page.”
― Maria Wallingford

“Mum tries smiling at herself in the mirror
again and from the lounge I can hear my
dad having a solitary coughing fit. How can
love look so old and tired? How can you be
properly in love if you're thinking about
washing machines and paying the electric-
ity bills? How can I wander among the
great literary lovers, hob nob with Lord
Byron
and share
a
steed
with John
Willoughby, and then suffer the hum drum
when I come down to breakfast? Where
have my fairy tales gone, Muse? I'm so
frightened that this is a world where, when
you kiss your handsome prince, he steps
out of the magic puff of smoke and he's got
socks and sandals on and a dirty t-shirt
with a belly under it.”
― Maria Wallingford

“At the risk of seeming sad, writing is that important. It's how my thoughts form and how my emotions get less squidgy. I love writing. At least I love the idea of writing - writing that's meaningful to me. Sometimes I imagine a page cram-full of verve and zaz that constantly takes the pith. Sometimes it's a phone-text - but a phone-text that someone will be joyful to read. More than that, I want the idle drift and the splendorous spark. I want to take the moment slowly into prose. I want beauty, I want pathos, I want... I want my own stuff, if I'm honest, or I used to when I was young and innocent and was so less critical of my ideas.”
― Maria Wallingford, My 12 Months a Troll