Polly Shulman > Quotes

“Just let me wait a little while longer,
Under your window in the quite snow.
Let me stand here and shiver, I’ll be stronger
If I can see your light before I go.
All through the weeks I’ve tried to keep my balance.
Leaves fell, then rain, then shadows, I fell too.
Easy restraint is not among my talents,
Fall turned to Winter and I came to you.
Kissed by the snow I contemplate your face.
Oh, do not hide it in your pillow yet!
Warm rooms would never lure me from this place,
If only I could see your silhouette.
Turn on your light, my sun, my summer love.
Zero degrees down here, July above.”
― Polly Shulman, Enthusiasm

“The one who asks questions does not lose his way.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“What I mean is, all the terrible things that happen in fairy tales seem real. Or not real, but genuine. Life is unfair, and the bad guys keep winning and good people die. But I like how that's not always the end of it...Evil is real, but so is good. They always say fairy tales are simplistic, black and white, but I don't think so. I think they're complicated. That's what I love about them.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“So how did you get this job, anyway?' I asked.
'My science teacher.'
'Why'd he pick you?'
'For my brains and good looks, obviously.'
'Yeah, right. My social studies teacher picked me, but I can't really figure out why."
'For your brains and good looks, obviously.'
'Um, thanks.' Had Aaron just complimented me? Wow.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“And what could my father possibly want with another child, when he hardly bothered to talk to the one he already had?”
― Polly Shulman, Enthusiasm

“Good," said Dr. Rust. "Take Elizabeth up to stack 9 and show her the ropes."
"But the ropes are on stack 2."
"I meant metaphorically.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Would you really want to live in world where only the possible is possible?”
― Polly Shulman, The Wells Bequest

“Mr. Klamp laid down the law. No tardiness, no talking above 40 decibels, no untied shoelaces, no visible undergarments, no eating, no chewing gum, no chewing tobacco, no chewing betel nuts, no chewing coca leaves, no chewing out students (unless Mr. Klamp was doing the chewing out), no chewing out teachers (unless ditto), no unnecessary displays of temper (unless ditto), no unnecessary displays of affection (no exceptions), no pets over one ounce or under one ton, and no singing, except in Bulgarian. I began to think Mr Klamp wouldn't be so bad...”
― Polly Shulman, Enthusiasm

“Seeing the transformation in Aaron made me wonder how it would feel to have someone-even a not-so-nice guy like Aaron- look at me the way he looked at Anjali.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Oh, a mermaid's comb. Heavy stuff, but safe enough as long as you don't use it around water. Or a busy highway. You're not planning to lure any young men to their doom, are you?"
How embarrassing! I shook my head, blushing.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Are you out of your candy wrapper?”
― Polly Shulman, Enthusiasm

“What are you doing?"
"I'm darning a sock," he said, holding it up to show me.
"What's that lump inside?"
"A sock egg."
"A sock egg? I didn't know socks hatched from eggs."
"Only the best ones do. I can't wear the cheap kind, the ones that grow on trees. They give me blisters.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“I was convinced I felt as strongly about Jane Austen's books as Ashleigh had ever felt about any of her crazes, but my love was deep and silent - and therefore easily overshadowed.”
― Polly Shulman, Enthusiasm

“Nonsense," said another voice-Dr. Rust. "We're librarians. When we don't find what we're looking for in the first place we look, we don't give up. We keep looking.”
― Polly Shulman

“You're just jealous," I said.
"You can believe what you want," Aaron said. "But somebody's stealing from the Grimm Collection. They're either taking the objects or somehow sucking out their magic. Doc and theh librarians are going to find out who, and if Marc is in on it, you're going to be sorry you were helping him."
"Marc isn't in on it. And I love this place too! We're all on the same side!"
"I hope that's true," Aaron said.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“We have the librarians on our side. We have *justice* on our side.”
― Polly Shulman

“Did you get it back?"
"Of coarse, the very next day. And even if I hadn't-because there have been things I've been asked to give up for good... Well, over the years here I've learned that sometimes a great loss is also a great gain." Under the slowly swirling freckles, Doc's face looked infinitely sad. Somehow I didn't find that reassuring.”
― Polly Shulman

“isn't that dangerous?" I objected. "What if somebody used it on people - what if they put it on replace and turned us all into fictional characters?"
"How do you know they haven't?" asked Marc.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Fairy tales might not be history, but as I learned in the hours I spent in the library over Christmas break, Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm were historians. They didn’t invent their fairy tales—they collected them, writing down the folk tales and stories they heard from friends and servants, aristocrats and innkeepers’ daughters.

Their first collection of stories was meant for grown-ups and I could see why—they’re way too bloody and creepy for children. Even the heroes go around boiling people in oil and feeding them red-hot coals. Imagine Disney making a musical version of “The Girl Without Hands,” a story about a girl whose widowed father chops off her hands when she refuses to marry him!”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“What about the dissolution transporter?” suggested Ms. Minnian. “Is it still checked out?” “Let’s see.” Doc went over to a card file and flipped through it. “No, it’s back downstairs in the Chresto. Excellent idea.” “What’s a dissolution transporter?” I asked. “Sort of like a fax machine for objects,” said Dr. Rust. “What’s a fax machine, then?” “Oh, you young people!” said Ms. Minnian. “Never mind about the fax,” said Doc. “A dissolution transporter deconstructs an object—in this case, you—taking note of its exact structure and composition. Then it transfers that information to another location, where the object is reassembled from material there.” “Kind of like the transporter on Star Trek except it only works one way,” said Jaya. That sounded alarming. “But if we’re deconstructed here and reassembled someplace else, won’t we turn into other people?” “Technically, yes. But you’ll be other people with the exact same memories. And exact duplicates of your bodies, down to the last quark,” said Ms. Minnian. “Yes, but I’ll be dead! Just because someone else has my memories, that doesn’t mean it’s me!” I objected. “It’s okay, Leo,” said Jaya. “I’ve used the diss tran a zillion times and I still feel like myself.” “Of course you do. You have all of the original Jaya’s memories, so of course you think you’re her. That doesn’t mean you are.” “What makes you so sure you’re the same Leo who went to bed last night?” said Ms. Minnian. “Dissolution transportation is no more discontinuous than falling asleep and waking up again. But you don’t have to go if you’re afraid.”
― Polly Shulman, The Wells Bequest

“Schist! How did it get so late?”

Jaya laughed. “Schist?” she said. “Is that another of your family expressions?”

I nodded. “It was on our science vocabulary list last year. It’s a kind of rock. It’s what happens to hot sandstone when it gets squished really hard for a few million years.”

“I know,” said Jaya. “But I’ve never heard anybody use it as a curse before. It sounds really bad—in a good way.”

“Yeah, it’s one of my favorites. Even strict teachers can’t object to a word from a vocabulary list, right?”
― Polly Shulman, The Wells Bequest

“You're sweet, Leo," said Jaya. "But how do you know the you in the world where I'm not me isn't saying the exact same thing to the not-me me right now?"

"I don't. But I don't care what he's saying because he's not me. He's just some other guy saying something to some other girl who isn't you. Or maybe he's the girl and you're a guy in which case he's some other girl saying something to some other guy who isn't you," I said. "It has nothing to do with us.”
― Polly Shulman, The Wells Bequest

“We sipped in silence for a while, watching the lights across the river.

“So what did you really leave as a deposit?”
“My ambition.”
“You? Never.”
“My sense of t-t-timing?”
I shook my head. “Uh-uh.”
“My most precious memory—of the moment I met you?”
“Fine, don’t tell me.”

He put down his cocoa mug, took the empty mug out of my hand, and put it down. He leaned forward—much too far forward—and fell, taking me down with him. “My sense of balance,” he whispered into my hair.
I pushed at him. “Ow, get off, you’re on my arm.”
He shifted his weight but didn’t move away. “My inhibitions,” he whispered into the other ear.

Then he kissed me.
He tasted of chocolate and ginger and apples. Spring air, books. New grass. Magic.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“There is little more likely to exasperate a person of sense than finding herself tied by affection and habit to an enthusiast.”
― Polly Shulman, Enthusiasm

“Ms. Callender was nodding her round face in agreement. “Even the stuff that sounds safe is dangerous,” she said. “Like the pot in ‘Sweet Porridge.’ When you say, ‘Cook, little pot, cook,’ it makes sweet millet porridge. Sounds harmless, right?”

“Yes, I remember the story,” I said. Nobody told the pot to stop cooking until it had filled half the houses in town with porridge. The householders had to eat their way out. The story didn’t say whether anybody drowned.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Okay, what’s fictional nonfiction, then?” I asked.

“Same idea. Not all the fictional books are fiction,” explained Dr. Rust. “Some are nonfiction.”

“Huh?” Now I was thoroughly confused.

“Oh, for example . . .” Dr. Rust hesitated.

Elizabeth suggested, “The Key to All Mythologies?”

“Yes! Good one. That’s in Middlemarch, a novel by George Eliot. A fussy scholar spends his life writing it—The Key to All Mythologies, I mean. It’s nonfiction, but it exists in the novel, which is fiction. So it’s fictional nonfiction. See?”
― Polly Shulman, The Poe Estate

“Interesting question. There’s a great deal of scholarly debate in the community over whether any artificially induced love can ever be permanent. Or any natural love, for that matter. Any so-called natural love, assuming any love is natural.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“It’s like milking a cow. The table gets antsy if it goes too long without feeding people. And we’ll have to touch it anyway, to clean it.” Anjali lifted the lid of a dish. A savory smell, heavy on cabbage, filled the room. “Want to start with the sausages or the potatoes?”

“Sausages, definitely,” said Marc.
“Okay . . .” She lifted more lids and poked around with a fork. “You can have blutwurst, zervelatwurst, bockwurst, plockwurst, leberwurst, knackwurst, and, of course, bratwurst. And what’s this? Weisswurst, I think.”

“Some of each, please,” said Marc.
Anjali handed him a plate piled with wursts. “What about you, Elizabeth?”
“Um, I’m not crazy about sausage—maybe just some potatoes?”

“Okay,” said Anjali. “Kartoffelbällchen, kartoffeltopf, kartoffelkroketten, kartoffelbrei, kartoffelknödel, kartoffelkrusteln, kartoffelnocken, kartoffelpuffer, kartoffelklösse, or kartoffelschnitz? Or maybe some schmorkartoffeln? Or just plain fries?”

“I don’t know—surprise me.”
“Here. Überbackene käsekartoffeln, my favorite. It has cheese.”
“Thanks.” It was delicious and very rich—tender potato slices, with a creamy cheese sauce. “How do you know all those names?” I asked.
“I looked them up. I wanted to know what we were eating.” Anjali peered under more lids.
“You know Anjali—she loves to look things up. Any spätzle?” asked Marc.
“What’s spätzle?”
“Sort of a cross between homemade pasta and dumplings,” said Anjali. “Oh, here’s hasenpfeffer! I love hasenpfeffer!”
“What’s hasenpfeffer?”
“Stewed rabbit with black pepper.” She dished herself a plate. “Mmmm! Don’t tell my parents—we’re vegetarians at home.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“The Library of Fictional Volumes.”

Ahead of us, silhouetted against a brilliant orange sunset, was a tall, rectangular stone building with banks and banks of windows.

“Fictional volumes?” echoed Cole. “You mean novels and short stories? But why would they keep the ship’s logbooks there? Aren’t logbooks nonfiction?”

Andre said, “It’s not a fiction library. It’s a fictional library of fictional books. Some are fictional fiction and some are fictional nonfiction.”

“Isn’t all fiction fictional? Isn’t that what the word means?” Cole objected. “And what’s fictional nonfiction? That doesn’t mean anything.”

Dr. Rust explained, “The Spectral Library is where we keep books that only exist in books. Like . . . What’s a good example, someone?”

“The Mad Trist of Sir Launcelot Canning,” suggested Andre.

“Exactly! The Mad Trist of Sir Launcelot Canning is a work of fiction—it’s a medieval romance. But it only exists in the Poe story ‘The Fall of the House of Usher.’ The narrator reads The Mad Trist to his crazy friend. You can’t find it in any ordinary library, but we have a copy here in our library of fictional books. It’s fictional fiction.”
― Polly Shulman, The Poe Estate

“Okay,” said Cole, “then why did Andre just call the library a fictional library of fictional volumes?”

“For the same reason the rest of our collection in the Poe Annex is fictional,” said Dr. Rust. “The library comes from a work of fiction. In this case, ‘The Spectral Librarian’—another Laetitia Flint story . . .”

“Actually,” Elizabeth interrupted, “if you want to get really technical, you could call it a fictional fictional library of fictional fiction and fictional nonfiction. Because in the Flint story, the narrator finds a manuscript in an old library. The manuscript is called The Spectral Librarian, and it’s a novel about a ghost librarian who tends the Spectral Library of Fictional Volumes. It’s a story within a story. So in the Flint fiction, the library is fictional, which makes it doubly fictional here.”
― Polly Shulman, The Poe Estate