Best 12 quotes of Silvia Moreno-garcia on MyQuotes

Casiopea rested both hands on the chest and for a moment considered leaving well enough alone. But she was angry, and more than that, curious. What if indeed there was money locked away in there? The old man owed her something for her suffering. Everyone owed her. Casiopea inserted the key and turned the lock, and flipped the lid open.

Dreams are for mortals." "Why?" "Because they must die.

Fear is generous and does not exclusively lodge in the hearts of mortals.

He'd fallen in love slowly and quietly, and it was a quiet sort of love, full of phrases left unsaid, laced with dreams.

I don’t want to go back. Not for a thousand years, and yet…I don’t know what I’ll do if I’m not taking care of Grandfather and fetching the groceries. I’ve never seriously thought of it, and now it seems I should. Or maybe not, maybe it’s too soon. Maybe there’s no point in talking about automobiles when I don’t know if I’ll live to be nineteen. But it would be fun, wouldn’t it? To ride one. Maybe to ride it with you.

Is that why you stare at the stars?” he asked. “Are you searching for beauty or dreaming with your eyes wide open?

Mortals have always been frightened of the night's velvet embrace and the creatures that walk in it, and yet they find themselves mesmerized by it.

Take it from me. Now is always the answer. Besides, do you have anything better to do? Mope around for a decade or two?" Casiopea drummed her fingers against her skirt and chewed her lip. The dramatic poetry she'd read would have called for this and more. There was sadness in her, of course, but she didn't wish to crack like fine china either. She could not wither away. In the world of the living, one must live. And had this not been her wish? To live. Truly live.

There was sadness in her, of course, but she didn't wish to crack like fine china either. She could not wither away. In the world of the living, one must live. And had this not been her wish? To live. Truly live.

The things you name do grow in power, but others that are not ever whispered claw at one's heart anyway, rip it to shreds even if a syllable does not escape the lips.

The things you name grow in power.

You don’t get to rewind your life like a tape and splice it back together, pretending it never knotted and tore, when it did and you know it did.