Quotes by Helen Oyeyemi

I know of witches who whistle at different pitches, calling things that dont have names.

In Narnia a girl might ring a bell in a deserted temple and feel the chime in her eyes, pure as the freeze that forces tears. Then when the sound dies out, the White Witch wakes. It was like, I want to touch you, and I can touch you, now what next, a dagger?

Aside from infrequent comments (Cheer up, love, or Its not Halloween), no one wondered why a teenager was dressed up as a chic governess. Sylvie approved of Miri, even at the same time as she was confused by her. Its a style at least, she said, and took off her rope of pearls and looped them around Miris neck.

In Egypt, like everywhere, the land is made to fit the sky; but here it is more so. Here it is possible to say, “This is land, and point, and “This is sky, and point, but the eyes can’t discover the dividing line.

… there’s a difference between having no one because you’ve chosen it and having no one because everyone has been taken away.

It was snowing when I got off the bus at Flax Hill. Not quite regular snowfall, not exactly a blizzard. This is how it was: The snow came down heavily, settled for about a minute, then the wind moved it - more rolled it, really - onto another target. One minute you were covered in snow, then it sped off sideways, as if a brisk, invisible giant had taken pity and brushed you down.

I was born, and then I was quietly resentful of that fact for a few years...but then I went to a library and it was okay.

And without further argument he unsheathed the sword and cleaved Miss Foxes head from her neck. He knew what was supposed to happen. He knew that this awkward, whispering creature before him should now transform into a princess - dazzlingly beautiful, free, and made wise by her hardship. That is not what happened.

And I think I decided not to love Charlie because I thought I had to be rescued. For practical reasons but also as a proof of love. Its better that Charlie and I didnt make an automatic transaction, love exchanged for rescue. All you can do after that is put the love and the rescue up on the shelf, moving them farther and farther back as you make room for all the other items you acquire over the years. This way a ragged stem still grows between us, almost pretty. Though really we should crush it now, before the buds bloom skeletal.

Please tell a story about a girl who gets away.”I would, even if I had to adapt one, even if I had to make one up just for her. “Gets away from what, though?”“From her fairy godmother. From the happy ending that isn’t really happy at all. Please have her get out and run off the page altogether, to somewhere secret where words like ‘happy’ and ‘good’ will never find her.”“You don’t want her to be happy and good?”“I’m not sure what’s really meant by happy and good. I would like her to be free. Now. Please begin.

I drew a chair up beside her and sang. All I do is dream of you the whole night through . . . It was a horrible rendition, and I quite enjoyed attempting it, setting the notes free from the song as each one went farther and farther astray.

It was one of those ones they call screwball comedies, where people mislead and ill-treat each other in the most shocking and baffling way possible, then forgive and forget about it because they happen to like the look of each other. Only they call it falling in love.

But then, maybe “I don’t believe in you” is the cruelest way to kill a monster.

I tend to prioritize emotional realism above the known laws of time and space, and when you do that, its inevitable that strange things happen. Which can be quite enjoyable, I think.

Dickinson is my hero because she was a joker, because she would never explain, because as a poet she confronted pain, dread and death, and because she was capable of speaking of those matters with both levity and seriousness. Shes my hero because she was a metaphysical adventurer.

The way that people feel changes everything. Feelings are forces. They cause us to time travel. And to leave ourselves, to leave our bodies. I would be that kind of psychologist who says, Youre absolutely right - there are monsters under the bed.

I remember that I used to get lots of books from the library, and Little Women was one of them. And I used to just cross out the parts of it that really upset me because its such a sad book in so many ways. Id cross out the parts that upset me, and I would rewrite new endings.