John Stephens > Quotes

“But I guess everything in life is a bit disappointing, isn't it?”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Time, Kate was learning, was like a river. You might put up obstacles, even divert it briefly, but the river had a will of it's own. It wanted to flow a certain way. You had to force it to change. You had to be willing to sacrifice.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“The point of life isn't to avoid pain. The point of life is to be alive! To feel things. That means the good and the bad. There'll be pain. But also joy, and friendship and love. And it's worth it, believe me.”
― John Stephens, The Fire Chronicle

“I do not know what happened with your parents or why they did what they did. But in all the world, I could have wished for no daughter but you.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“He demanded I tell him all I knew. I refused. He threatened me. Still, I refused. He became irate. He screamed. He spat. He threw plates. Overturned tables. He punched his minister of culture.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Dragons are notable for their lust for gold, not a bad quality taken in moderation. Dragons are immune to fire, obviously. All dragons are terrifically vain, indeed as to who is more vain, a dragon or an elf, I would not want to be the one to decide. Hint: an elf. A dragon should never be engaged in conversation as they are inveterate liars and tricksters, though if you're actually talking to a dragon, you're pretty much toast anyway. Never, ever call a dragon a worm, no matter how much they're asking for it.”
― John Stephens, The Fire Chronicle

“He remembered the darkness and despair she'd suffered during her long years as a prisoner, but he also recalled the deep, unquenchable joy she took from the world around her; and he knew that given the choice, Wilamena would suffer all she had and more rather than sacrifice one day of being alive.

It was just as his father had said. She chose life, all of it.”
― John Stephens, The Fire Chronicle

“The ceiling was curved, giving the space a cave-like feel, and it was either very large, very small, or sort of normal-sized.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“To a casual passerby, his appearance would not have inspired much confidence. His overcoat was patched in spots and frayed at the cuffs, he wore an old tweed suit that was missing a button, his white shirt was stained with ink and tobacco, and his tie--this was perhaps the strangest of all--was knotted not once, but twice, as if he'd forgotten whether he'd tied it and, rather than glancing down to check, had simply tied it again for good measure. His white hair poked out from beneath his hat, and his eyebrows rose from his forehead like great snowy horns, curling over a pair of bent and patched tortoiseshell glasses. All in all, he looked like someone who'd gotten dressed in the midst of a whirlwind and, thinking he still looked too presentable, had thrown himself down a flight of stairs.

It was when you looked in his eyes that everything changed.

Reflecting no light save their own, they shone brightly in the snow-muffled night, and there was in them a look of such uncommon energy and kindness and understanding that you forgot entirely about the tobacco and ink stains on his shirt and the patches on his glasses and that his tie was knotted twice over. You looked in them and knew that you were in the presence of true wisdom.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Boy," Emma muttered, "are they in for it.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Don’t be stupid,” the girl said in exactly the way Emma might’ve. “Just ’cause you can do some magic don’t mean you can shoot lightning outta your nose.”
― John Stephens, The Fire Chronicle

“Your H-Highness...," Michael stammered, "I-I wish I'd had a chance to prepare some remarks.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“He was crazy, Michael thought, but he appeared to be nice-crazy, and not I'll-kill-you-I'll-kill-you crazy.”
― John Stephens, The Fire Chronicle

“I know exactly who he is. Who he is destined to become. But you can still save him. Love him, child. Love him as he already loves you.”
― John Stephens, The Fire Chronicle

“I don't know what happened to your parents or why they did what they did. But in all the world, I could have wished for no daughter than you".”
― John Stephens, The Fire Chronicle

“Oh, the weight you've had to bear! Can't you feel how it's worn you down, little by little, every day of your life? But it's gone now, all the pain and hurt, all the fear; I've taken it away. Imagine living that way always."
She was right, Kate thought. It was as if she could breathe for the first time in years.
"Say the word, and you'll never feel it again."
The tendril drifted in the air, still clinging to her fingertip. Kate thought back to her mother leaning down, telling her to watch over her brother and sister, and though the memory was there, the feeling of her mother's love, of that last kiss, was gone.
"Give it back."
"Are you sure, mon ange? There's a great deal of pain here."

"Give it back." If holding on to that one moment meant a lifetime of pain, Kate would take it.”
― John Stephens

“The woman said she had never heard of the town. “It probably doesn’t even exist,” Emma said when the waitress had moved off. “I bet you Miss Crumley was just trying to get rid of us. She’s hoping we’ll get robbed or murdered or something.” “It’s very unlikely all three of us would get murdered,” Michael said, slurping down his hot chocolate. “Maybe one of us, though.” “Okay, you can get murdered,” Emma said. “No, you can get murdered.” “No, you—” “No, you—” They began giggling, Emma saying how a murderer seeing Michael simply wouldn’t be able to help himself, he’d just have to murder him, he might even murder him twice, and Michael replying how there was probably a whole bunch of murderers waiting for Emma to get off the train and how they’d have a lottery to see who got to do it. … Kate just let them go. The”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“L'unico inferno e l'unico paradiso sono quelli che ci costruiamo noi.”
― John Stephens, The Black Reckoning

“At one point, Gabriel brought over a pitcher of milk, which he poured into four cups. Michael reached for his, slurped half of it in a single gulp, then turned and sprayed it across the cabin.

The man looked unconcerned. "Goat's milk," he said. "Sour if you're not used to it. Drink; it's good for you." And to Michael's dismay, the man refilled his cup.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“The girls stared in amazement. Michael was holding a plastic bag bursting with candy. He shrugged. “I snuck into her office last night.” On the platform, Miss Crumley watched with satisfaction as the train heaved into motion. But walking back to the orphanage, she was troubled by the memory of the youngest hooligan, Emma, sticking out her tongue as the train pulled away. Miss Crumley could swear the girl had been eating a piece of licorice. But that was ridiculous. Where would such a child get licorice? When”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Gabriel!"
He didn't look up.
"Gabriel!"
Her voice was strained, insistent.
"Gabriel!"
He chanced a look, intending to tell her in very clear terms that any conversation would have to wait. She was standing at the edge of the cliff, struggling to hold a rock several times larger than her head. Seeing him look up, Emma let go of her burden. Gabriel swung himself out to the left. The rock plummeted past, missing him by inches, and caught the Screecher full in the face, connecting with a crunching thuck and knocking the creature off the bridge.

Gabriel watched its body disappear into the void, then turned his gaze back to Emma.

The girl waved at him, smiling. "It's okay! I got him!"

Children, he thought.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“The man's large hand still rested on the deer's head . . . "To kill a creature such as this is a sacred thing. It must only be done when there is a true necessity. And you must ask pardon of the spirit.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Gabriel had not wanted to take Emma. But Granny Peet had insisted. “She is tied to the Atlas. If you find it, you will need her.” “That’s right,” Emma had said. “And you gotta take Dena too. Or I’m not coming.” And so Emma had been outfitted with new clothes and boots and a knife and, an hour after the meeting, she and Dena and the small band of men had been given a blessing from Granny Peet and had set off up the mountain. Gabriel”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Bhuhoduuknoballdis?" Michael asked (he had most of a banana pancake crammed in his mouth).
"A good question," Dr. Pym said. "Perhaps I should start further back.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“And what about him saying the book had chosen her, but to access its full power, she first had to heal her heart?”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“falchion.”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Your sister is indeed correct,” Dr. Pym said. “Each of the Books of Beginning has a unique name. Technically, the book we are searching for is the Atlas of Time—” “That’s right,” Emma said, nodding seriously. “Technically.” “—but it is usually just referred to as the Atlas, an appropriate name, as the book contains maps of all possible pasts, presents, and futures and allows one to move through both time and space. But now is not the moment to get into all the whys and wherefores.” “Sure,” Emma said, “we can get into those later. All the whys and stuff.” In”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Dr. Pym,” Emma huffed, “what happened back there? What’s going on?” “I told you that we are here to see a man. What I did not say was that I have been searching for this individual for nearly a decade. Only recently did I finally track him to this village. You heard me asking the signora how to find his house.” “That’s it? That’s what made her drop the plate?” “Yes, it appears that he is regarded by the locals as something of a devil. Or perhaps the Devil. The signora was a bit flustered.” “Is he dangerous?” Michael asked. Then he added, “Because I’m the oldest now, and I’m responsible for Emma’s safety.” “Oh, please,” Emma groaned. “I wouldn’t say he’s dangerous,” the wizard said. “At least, not very.” They hiked on, following a narrow, twisting trail. They could hear goats bleating in the distance, the bells around their necks clanking dully in the still air. Stalks of dry grass scratched at the children’s ankles. The light was dying, and soon Michael could no longer see the town behind them. The trail ended at a badly maintained rock wall. Affixed to the wall was a piece of wood bearing a message scrawled in black paint. “What’s it say?” Emma asked. The wizard bent forward to translate. “It says, ‘Dear Moron’—oh my, what a beginning—‘you are about to enter private property. Trespassers will be shot, hanged, beaten with clubs, shot again; their eyeballs will be pecked out by crows, their livers roasted’—dear, this is disgusting, and it goes on for quite a while.…” He skipped to the bottom. “ ‘So turn around now, you blithering idiot. Sincerely, the Devil of Castel del Monte.’ ” Dr. Pym straightened up. “Not very inviting, is it? Well, come along.” And he climbed over the wall. Michael”
― John Stephens, The Fire Chronicle

“The Countess picked up the doll that Annie had dropped and smoothed its patchy hair. “So, the word has already been sent to your men. They’ll find me what I’m looking for, or beginning this Sunday—I do hate Sundays, they’re so dull—beginning this Sunday, your town will lose a child each week I have to wait.” With”
― John Stephens, The Emerald Atlas

“Now, the first thing you must know is that the magic world used to be entwined with our own. Like this." Abraham threaded his knobby fingers together. "Was that way for thousands a' years. Till people--normal people, I'm talking about--started spreading out and multiplying, putting up towns and cities. Finally, the magical types saw that humankind was unstoppable. So they began carving out territories and made 'em invisible to human eyes and impossible to enter unless you knew the way. Whole chunks just vanished off the map. This went on a century or more. Then, last day a' December, 1899, what was left a' the magical world up and disappeared. Whoosh!"

"But," Kate interrupted, "that's not that long ago! People would remember!"

"This is deep magic we're talking about, girl. People was made to forget. Forget about the missing islands and forests. Forget such a thing as magic ever existed. Whole history of the world was rewritten. Only thing was, here and there a human town got dragged along.”
― John Stephens