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Andre Norton
“To the spectator the ex-Commando might be standing impassively, the meerkats clinging to him, his hand resting lightly on Surra’s round skull, the eagle quiet on his shoulder. But an awareness, which was unuttered, unheard speech, linked him with animals and bird. The breadth of that communication could not be assessed outside a 'team,' but it forged them into a harmonious whole, which was a weapon if need be, a companionship always.”
Andre Norton, The Beast Master

Patricia A. McKillip
“Explain to me again," he begged, "why we are here."

She had told him once before; it had been like listening to a vivid, improbable dream.”
Patricia A. McKillip, Ombria in Shadow

“Rosie hated her curly golden hair. When she was old enough to hold minimal conversations, the itsy-bitsy-cutesycoo sort of grown-ups would pull the soft ringlets gently and tell her what a pretty little girl she was. She would stare at this sort of grown-up and say, “I am not pretty. I am intelligent. And brave.” The grown-ups usually thought this was darling, which only made her angry, perhaps partly because she was speaking the truth, although it was tricky to differentiate between “brave” and “foolhardy” at three or four years old.”
Robin McKinley, Spindle's End

Guy Endore
“There was something compelling in his eyes. Something of that strange compulsion of an abyss. That invitation of the void, of great heights: Come, cast yourself down. Just let yourself go. How do you know it isn't sweeter than anything you have ever imagined or experienced in life? Why do you fear? Why do you fear what you do not know as yet? Come! Come!

Oh! the opium-sweet attraction of death!”
Guy Endore, The Werewolf of Paris

Tove Jansson
“Later in the evening Misabel went for a solitary stroll by the sea. She saw the moon rise and start his lonesome journey through the night.

"He's exactly like me," Misabel thought sadly. "So plump and lonely."

At this thought she felt so forsaken and mild that she had to cry a little.

"What are you crying for?" asked Whomper nearby.

"I don't know, but it feels nice," replied Misabel.

"But people cry because they feel sorry, don't they?" objected Whomper.

"Well, yes--the moon," Misabel replied vaguely and blew her nose. "The moon and the night and all the sadness there is..."

"Oh, yes," said Whomper.”
Tove Jansson, Moominsummer Madness

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