26
" It was not the house of someone who liked books. It did not have a well-stocked library. It was not even stuffed with books. Thomas could not see any part of the house that was not mostly book. Books rose from the floor to the ceiling in unruly, tottering towers. Books held up tables and chairs—and sat in the chairs, at the tables, as though quite ready for supper to be served, so long as supper was more books. They sprawled over the dining table like a feast of many colors. Books climbed the stairs, ran up and down the hallways, curled up before the fireplace, were wedged into the cabinets beside cups and saucers, held open doors and locked them shut. They left no room on the sofa to sit, nor in the kitchen to stand, nor on the floor to lie down. Books had already taken every territory and occupied it. "
― Catherynne M. Valente , The Boy Who Lost Fairyland (Fairyland, #4)
27
" This time I shall not lead you into a new corner of the house of the world. We know it so well by now, after all. We know where the Fairies live and where the shadows fall, where the cobwebs really ought to be cleaned up if anyone ever gets around to it, where a window is loose, where a door creaks. We are annoyed by the stove that will not light, by the weeds in the garden, by that ungodly mess in the closet. A thing too familiar becomes invisible.
It is time for us to Go Out.
But do not fear, even if it is colder outside than you might prefer, if Spring has once again been rudely tardy, if the trees only have a breath of green at their tips like a fine lady's jade rings, if the sun is pale and high and makes you squint, if the wind, for there is always wind, bites and pierces deep. Tug up your best coat round your neck and tie your longest scarf tight. You may hold my hand if you like. I promise, it is good for your health to step outside the house of the world. After all, we are not going far.
Only so far as the mailbox. "
― Catherynne M. Valente , The Boy Who Lost Fairyland (Fairyland, #4)
35
" Firstly, no magic of any kind is allowed. Customs is quite strict on this point. Any charms, enchanted beans, grimoires, or talismans you might have on your person will be confiscated and sold as Christmas ornaments. Second, the practice of physicks is forbidden to all except young ladies and gentlemen with Advanced Degrees."
“But I like physicks!”
“It is certainly possible you may grab hold of a Degree,” winked the Red Wind, “but I am afraid I do not know where to find their nests. Third, aviary locomotion is permitted only by means of Balloon or licensed Aeroplane. If you find yourself not in possession of one of these, kindly confine yourself to the ground. Fourth, all traffic travels on the right, except where it doesn’t, and no signs will be posted. Fifth, shapeshifting and glamours are restricted to October the thirty-first of each year. Sixth, all children are required to attend school, which is like party to which everyone forgot to bring punch, or hats, or fiddles, and none of the games have good prizes. Seventh and most important, you will find that several things are extremely dangerous to your person, namely: iron, eggshells, fi re, and marriage. You may in no fashion allow any human to call you by the name your mother gave you or pass beyond the borders of Cook County, or else you will either perish in a most painful fashion or be forced to sit through very tedious sessions with doctors in thick glasses. These laws are sacrosanct, except for visiting demigods and bankers. Do you understand? "
― Catherynne M. Valente , The Boy Who Lost Fairyland (Fairyland, #4)
39
" The giant brandished his fist to knock her flat. And glass exploded against his face. Thomas whipped his head round to see Blunderbuss, rainbow mud staining her rainbow yarn, in the traditional Wom fighting stance: her bone armoured rump in the air, front legs splayed out before her, mouth gaping open, in a tremendous snarl, spitting whiskey bottles, passion fruits, and horseshoes into the baseball's flabby cheeks.
"I'm not afraid of you!" the wombat yelled. "I saw you get stuck in the washing machine once. Round and round you went. Who's afraid of something that can't defeat a rinse cycle? "
― Catherynne M. Valente , The Boy Who Lost Fairyland (Fairyland, #4)
