Tor Publishing Group

“My heart is a dark passage, lined with ranks of gleaming jars. In each one something floats. The past, preserved as if in spirit. Here is the scent of grass and the sea, here the creak of wheels on a rough path, here a bright yellow gull’s beak. The sensation of blood drying on my cheek in the wind. Abel crying for his mother, Uncle’s hand on me. Silver on a white collarbone. The knowledge of loss, which comes like a blow to the heart or the stomach. It does not reach your mind until later.”
― Catriona Ward, Little Eve

“The dead don’t walk. Except, sometimes, when they do.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Moves the Dead

“Through the open window the night is dying. Dark air full of the promise of light, the heavy pause before dawn. Below, the sea is hung with mist, which is His breath on the water. Somewhere beneath the waves His slow, heavy coils are moving in the deep.”
― Catriona Ward, Little Eve

“People get hung up on happiness and joy, but fun will take you at least as far and it's generally cheaper to obtain.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Moves the Dead