Violet said nothing, though big pearly tears, like a child's, trembled at her lashes. She suddenly missed John very much. Into him she could pour all…

- John Crowley

Seeing a woman's child is like seeing a woman naked, in the way it changes how her face looks to you, how her face becomes less the whole story.

- John Crowley

'Love is a myth,' Grandfather Trout said. 'Like summer.' 'What?' 'In winter,' Grandfather Trout said, 'summer is a myth. A report, a rumor. Not to …

- John Crowley

Stories last longer: but only by becoming only stories.

- John Crowley

Just as a lamp waved in darkness creates a figure of light in the air, which remains for as long as the lamp repeats its motion exactly, so the unive…

- John Crowley

She had always lived her best life in dreams. She knew no greater pleasure than that moment of passage into the other place, when her limbs grew warm…

- John Crowley

First, she wanted to taste the sweat that shone on his throat and fragile clavicle; then he chose to undo the tails of her shirt, that she had tied u…

- John Crowley

There was after all no mystery in the end of love, no mystery but the mystery of love itself, which was large certainly but as real as grass, as natu…

- John Crowley

The further in you go, the bigger it gets.

- John Crowley