“Why do we want to have alternate worlds?
It's a way of making progress. You have to imagine something before you do it.
”
― Joan Aiken
― Joan Aiken
“Night's winged horses
No one can outpace
But midnight is no moment
Midnight is a place.
Meet me at Midnight,
Among the Queen Anne's Lace
Midnight is not a moment,
Midnight is a place—
When, when shall I meet you
When shall I see your face
For I am living in time at present
But you are living in space.
Time is only a corner
Age is only a fold
A year is merely a penny
Spent from a century's gold.
So meet me, meet me at midnight
(With sixty seconds' grace)
Midnight is not a moment;
Midnight is a place.”
― Joan Aiken, Midnight Is a Place
No one can outpace
But midnight is no moment
Midnight is a place.
Meet me at Midnight,
Among the Queen Anne's Lace
Midnight is not a moment,
Midnight is a place—
When, when shall I meet you
When shall I see your face
For I am living in time at present
But you are living in space.
Time is only a corner
Age is only a fold
A year is merely a penny
Spent from a century's gold.
So meet me, meet me at midnight
(With sixty seconds' grace)
Midnight is not a moment;
Midnight is a place.”
― Joan Aiken, Midnight Is a Place
“Words are like spices. Too many is worse
than too few.”
― Joan Aiken, The Last Slice of Rainbow and Other Stories
― Joan Aiken, The Last Slice of Rainbow and Other Stories
“Her smile was like a swift light passing
across a darkened room.
("Hair")”
― Joan Aiken, Best New Horror 23
("Hair")”
― Joan Aiken, Best New Horror 23
“You may think it odd that there were three
men to look after one tiny station, but the people who ran the railway knew
that if you left two men together in a lonely place they would quarrel, but if
you left three men, two of them could always grumble to each other about the
third, and then they would be quite happy.”
― Joan Aiken, A Necklace of Raindrops and Other Stories
― Joan Aiken, A Necklace of Raindrops and Other Stories
“the silence behind her was closing and
thickening, and becoming coloured, like water into which a brilliant dye is
being poured”
― Joan Aiken, The Cuckoo Tree
― Joan Aiken, The Cuckoo Tree
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