Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales Quotes

“I have learned there is one thing a person never tires of, no matter how long they live. And that is being in love. All else is ash and ember.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“I must write it down. For it is in writing that I will discover a way out. A door within the story. There is one. It cannot end here. Yet some stories do.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“If Wendell’s stepmother has us slain before I have a chance to contribute to the scholarly debate, I will be very disappointed.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“In fact, once I have retaken my throne, you will not have to do anything if you do not wish it. If you desire to sit in some corner of the castle hunched over your books and notepaper, bestirring yourself only to demand a tour of some brownie market or bogle den, then it will be done."
I let out a trembling breath. "And what sort of queen would that make me?"
He looked perfectly earnest as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Mine.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Such is the way with librarians, who are almost as unpredictable as the Folk, some minatory and persnickety, others overflowing with warmth towards humanity at large.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Why must mortals always be solving mysteries? What is the point of life if everything is pinned and labelled in some display case? You scholars should aim to discover more mysteries, not untangle them.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“What?" I said.
He rose, shaking the dew from his cloak. "You have that look."
He had mirrored my own train of thought, which made me scowl at him irrationally. "Which?"
"The one you wear whenever you outsmart me in some area," he said.
"Well," I began with a shrug, then stopped. My magnanimity was wearing thin, I'm afraid. "Haven't I?"
He laughed, a clear, bright sound, and then, before I knew what was happening, he had lifted me from my feet and spun me through the air, the greenery and shadow of the forest a whirl all around me.
"My beloved Emily," he murmured in my ear.
"Yes, yes, all right," I said, though I did not pull away. My smugness was back, together with a warm sort of satisfaction. It was pleasing to see him this happy.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Stories are the architecture of Faerie, more powerful than magic, more powerful than kings.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“You are quite yourself again, ink-stained and full of schemes to burden me with, as if I do not already have enough to do.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Poor dear," Wendell said, bending to rub Shadow's ears. "When I retake my throne, I shall dedicate a fleet of servants to his needs. They shall make for him a velvet bed in every room, with a fire burning beside each one, and the bones of my enemies will be preserved for his enjoyment."
"That started off well, but I did not care for the ending," I said.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“You already know more about faerie kingdoms than any mortal."
"Stories," I said faintly, drawing my hand back. "I know stories."
He gave me an odd look. "And have you ever needed anything else? Have you not shaken a kingdom to its foundations, found a door to a distant otherland, overthrown a queen? Hand you the right storybook, and you are capable of anything.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Bloody mountains!” Wendell exclaimed after we had been hiking uphill for perhaps forty-five seconds.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“He is an old dog still,” Wendell said quietly. “There are no magics to restore youth in creatures doomed to age—only glamours. But I thought, if I could grant him another few years of health, which he may spend in your company, and in roaming his favourite paths, and napping by the fireside—” “It’s enough,” I said, then buried my face in Shadow’s fur, unable to control myself any longer. In truth, it wasn’t enough—no finite span of years ever could be. And yet it was a gift beyond measure.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“I had one of my moments of existential panic, in which I question everything that has led me to this point, before burying it under thoughts of a more practical nature, as I always do.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“hand you the right storybook, and you are capable of anything”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“The cat only glared at me, as at home in her hostility as ever a cat can be.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Shadow’s world was one in which all and sundry either fawned over him or kept a respectful distance from his intimidating bulk. Each time Orga hissed at him, Shadow seemed to assume it a misunderstanding, which grew increasingly improbable as these incidents accumulated, but still less improbable, in his view, than being disliked.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“This queen seems no better." He came close to me, looking me up and down as a glint of mischief came into his eyes. "But mortals can be entertaining. And they do not break as easily as some think."
Wendell's expression went from one of bemusement to towering fury with such abruptness that both Taran and I fell back a step; Taran afterwards looked annoyed as a cat following a moment of gracelessness. There came a terrible rumbling sound, coupled with that same wet rustling with which I am all too familiar, as if the attentive oaks were uprooting themselves en masse and lumbering in our direction.
"You are speaking to a queen of Faerie," Wendell said, and it seemed as if the rustling leaves were in his voice.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Anyway, Em, I am sure you are happily ensconced in your native habitat, that dreary monument to mortal rumination that is the library, no doubt thinking of me hardly at all. Well, why would you give a thought to romance or the faerie kingdom that now belongs to you as much as to me when you have a limitless supply of dusty old tomes to mutter and scowl at? I see now that my downfall as a suitor lies in my ability to offer you only a castle, great quantities of faerie silver, and various enchantment to dazzle and provoke you, instead of the full bound collection of Dryadological Fieldnotes.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“The point of my scholarship is to understand the Folk. To the extent that we mortals can."
"It has never struck you as a futile endeavor?"
"No more than any other branch of science." I gestured to the sky. "What can mortals learn of the stars, given that we cannot walk among them? Yet we try." I opened my notebook again. "Others have argued that it is the endeavor itself that is the point of scholarship. I am not so certain of that, for I can never stop yearning for new discoveries. Even the smallest are as precious jewels to me.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“He would never abandon me as Orga is so often abandoning Wendell. Dogs are proper companions, not the physical manifestation of caprice.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“I was suddenly more furious with him than I had ever been. That he would make light of all this! “If you think,” I said, “that you can do something like this again—without consulting me, without even a thought—” “I know,” he said quietly. His tone froze my anger, and I saw that his eyes were damp. “I would never have put you through—that—if I had seen a single alternative. But you are wrong in one thing: I was thinking of you, Em. You were my first thought, as well as my last.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Wendell answered me seriously. “I suppose so. But then, Faerie does not really recognize marriage. That translation from the Faie is only a clumsy approximation.” He seemed to think. “Mortals, I’ve observed, sometimes marry for very silly reasons. The Folk do not, because one cannot marry someone who does not match them. The word has a connotation of accepting one’s fate.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“The wind was chill, but for once it was not raining. I drew a deep breath, savouring the sense of homecoming. No, Trinity College is not Cambridge, but there is an essence shared by great universities that always puts me at ease; entering the campus grounds had felt like donning an old, cherished jumper.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“After a moment, he said, “Why must mortals always be solving mysteries? What is the point of life if everything is pinned and labelled in some display case? You scholars should aim to discover more mysteries, not untangle them.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“I let out a trembling breath. “And what sort of queen would that make me?” He looked perfectly earnest as he leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Mine.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“The dangers looming before us, the trepidation I felt at my decision to venture here, to stay at his side—it was all abruptly subsumed by something much more familiar, which sent my heart skittering with excitement.
Scientific curiosity.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Mortals, I’ve observed, sometimes marry for very silly reasons. The Folk do not, because one cannot marry someone who does not match them. The word has a connotation of accepting one’s fate.”
“You are trying to calm me with a linguistics lesson,” I said.
He smiled. “Is it working?”
I let out a breath of laughter. “Then—you purpose we marry by the old traditions? A simple declaration?”
“Why not?” he said.
It was a strange thing, I had been viewing the marriage question with such trepidation—the ceremony, the spectacle, all that came after it, in the form of this and beautiful kingdom that would thence be half mine. And yet, as I sat there upon the lake amidst the tree-shadow and reflected light and the dragonflies tussling with the wind, I no longer knew why I had been so afraid. Likely it was also the threat of Queen Arna hanging over is like a guillotine—well, the prospect of imminent death tends to put things into perspective. It was not that my worries vanished— no magic could manage that. I only realized how much smaller they were than the world that lay before me. A world that I wanted, even after all I had seen, and amidst such a thicket of danger. I wanted it very much. And I especially wanted to share it with Wendell.
“All right,” I said. “How does this work? Must I stand? I warn you, my balance is unsteady in all forms of watercraft.”
Wendell blinked for a moment. And then his expression flooded with such delight and relief that I was taken aback.
“You thought I would say no!” I exclaimed, batting his hand in indignation. “Good grief. And you are always boasting about how well you know me.”
He laughed again, a sound that echoed across the lake, and it seemed the trees were stirred by it, raining their leaves down upon the lakeshore. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t think that,” he said. “I didn’t know what you would say. It appears you still have the ability to surprise me, Em.”
I rolled my eyes. There was an echo of nervousness in his gaze, and I decided I’d had enough of that. Additionally, he was looking very handsome just then, with the sunlight picking out at least a dozen shades of gold in his hair, so I took hold of his cloak, thumb looping through one of the buttonholes, and drew him towards me.
“Well, come on, what must we do?” I said when we at least broke apart, breathless. I hoped this tradition would not involve lengthy speeches. I had not improved much when it comes to putting feelings into words.
“Nothing,” he said. “It’s done. Look.”
“I followed his gaze to the lakeshore. A hundred tiny lights dotted the forest—more than a hundred. A thousand? They kept appearing among the shadows, different in size and luminance depending on the lantern. I hadn't realized the forest was so full of Folk. And among the trees, the silver faerie stones began to glow.
"All this for a mortal queen?" I muttered, flushed and overwhelmed.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“Wendell and I would spend the next several months traveling his realm. Our realm. I must get used to that. I would take copious notes all the while, no doubt filling several of the ridiculous journals the bookbinders kept churning out, and stumbling across so many research questions it would take me ten lifetimes to tackle them all. And after that, who knows? I have my compendium of tales to finish--- I plan to gather stories as Wendell and I travel, adding them to the small hoard I've already collected. My presence is not required in the mortal world until October, when I will be delivering a presentation on several key findings in my map-book, which shall be published in a month's time. When the Berlin Academy of Folklorists sends you an invitation to their annual conference, you cannot say no.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales

“As the eyes of the assembled Folk fell upon me, I realized that I had forgotten to change back into my queenly attire. I still had on my old shift and winter wellies, as if I were returned from fieldwork in the countryside. I was even more disheveled than usual from my adventure, for I had lost a bootlace somewhere along the way, and I did not even want to imagine what my hair looked like. My journal poked out of one pocket, my notebook another, and my fingertips were smudged with ink. I looked every inch a scholar, a none-too-reputable one at that, and not one millimetre a queen.
And yet, somehow, this seemed barely to register on my audience. The Folk stared at me as much as Arna, with an avidity they had never displayed before. Perhaps it was the contrast I made with themselves, perhaps something else. The Folk respect power above most things, after all, and perhaps there was power in abandoning my fumbling attempts to please them, as if I were above it all, even if I did not feel that way.
In any case, I was not used to commanding their attention, and on the whole was not certain I preferred it.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Compendium of Lost Tales