Acknowledgements Quotes

“There is, at its center, something immutably miraculous about the substance and process of reading stories. We read because we hunger to know, to empathize, to feel, to connect, to laugh, to fear, to wonder, and to become, with each page, more than ourselves. To become creatures with souls. We read because it allows us, through force of mind, to hold hands, touch lives, speak as another speaks, listen as another listens, and feel as another feels. We read because we wish to journey forth together. There is, despite everything, a place for empathy and compassion and rumination, and just knowing that fact, for me, is an occasion for joy. That we still, in this frenetic and bombastic and self-centered age, have legions of people who can and do return to the quietness of the page, opening their minds and hearts, again and again, to the wild world and the stuff of life, pinned into scenes and characters and sharp images and pretty sentences--well. It sure feels like a miracle, doesn't it?”
― Kelly Barnhill, Dreadful Young Ladies and Other Stories

“Fiction is all too often one rationalisation away from reality.
(from the acknowledgements of "Unwind")”
― Neal Shusterman, Unwind

“Writers spend a lot of time being alone. If we're lucky, we like being alone, and if we're even luckier, we have people who love us through it all.”
― Nghi Vo

“After all, boundaries of the mind mean nothing for women who continue to sing songs of freedom under the moonlight.”
― Elif Shakara

“Thankfulness is one of those intangible acts that costs nothing but gives joy. Think about it. Not only does it bring a smile to the people who receive our thanks. It also increases our own appreciation of everything we receive.”
― Sharon Rose, A Castle Sealed

“To say I'm lucky in the people I'm surrounded by is like saying I'm lucky to have possession of both my hands -- it would be impossible to do most of the things I take for granted without them, but specifically impossible to type or pick up a pen.”
― Julia Armfield, Salt Slow