Sara

“she was slipping past brittle fast, slipping past the carefully constructed walls and brick-by-brick control, the masonry box she kept her mind in. A little more and things might start to spill out, slosh ugly and acid over the top or leak hissing between the cracks.”
― Caitlín R. Kiernan, Silk

“color is burning black. Elongation, fatal stretch, where your head is banded like a screaming monkey’s, the place where every toolbox is empty, where the only tool is the caveman clench and hollow of pain and anger and the desire so strong it breaks the hands that use it, yes. Beyond it is work. Beyond it is the limbic whine, soul’s heart beating in the rain that is always silver, silver and no color at all. Where pain is currency, and work is more than work. Where every real creator wants to be.”
― Kathe Koja, Bad Brains

“Like any ghost story, it involves the bridges between the past and the present and who, or rather what, uses them to cross from the world of the living into the world of the dead.”
― Michael Rowe, Wild Fell

“what do I deserve? Sylvia contests. Why is the woman always expected to give up on life? She’s a writer, not a teacher. She can; she does. She is the arrow, not him, nor him, nor him, these men who would have her be charming and quiet, reciting the names of insects in Latin, stirring something at a stove.”
― Kate Moses, Wintering: A Novel of Sylvia Plath