Clarkesworld Magazine, Issue 100, January 2015 Quotes

“Pregnancy, childbirth, healing and old age all required gee force. No amount of gengineering by the Biomistresses of the great stations could circumvent that inescapable evolutionary fact.”
― Jay Lake, Clarkesworld Magazine, Issue 100, January 2015

“They’re pregnant all the time, but they never give birth, on account of how they’re pregnant with tomorrow and a year from now and alternate universes where everyone is half-bat.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, Clarkesworld Magazine, Issue 100, January 2015

“Just a kid with hair the color of raisins and eyes the color of grape jelly, living the life glasstastic in a four bedroom wine bottle on the east end of Plum Pudding...”
― Catherynne M. Valente, Clarkesworld Magazine, Issue 100, January 2015

“The day of the worst thing in the world was long and hot and bright, packed so full of summer autumn seeped out through the stitches.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, Clarkesworld Magazine, Issue 100, January 2015

“And my guts were full of shame, because I hadn’t even thought of him that day, not when I put on my stockings or my hat, not when I marched into a taxi and told him to take me to Heliotrope Station, not when I bought my ticket for one. I just wanted to go. Which meant I was a little photograph of her, after all. I kissed him, to make it better. We liked kissing. We’d discovered it together.  We’d discussed it and we were fairly certain no one in the world did it as well as we did.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, Clarkesworld Magazine, Issue 100, January 2015

“I only ever had one friend who was a person. His name was Orchid Harm. He could read faster than anyone I ever met and he kissed as fast as reading. He had hair the color of beetroot and eyes the color of mangosteen and he was a Sunslinger like his Papo before him. They caught sunshine in buckets all over Plum Pudding, mixed it with sugar and lorikeet eggs and fermented it into something not even a little bit legal. Orchid had nothing to do all day while the sun dripped down into his stills. He used to strap on a wash-basket full of books and shimmy up onto the roof of the opera house, which is actually a giantess’s skull with moss and tourmalines living all over it, scoot down into the curve of the left eye socket, and read seven books before twilight. No more, no less. He liked anything that came in sevens. I only came in ones, but he liked me anyway.”
― Catherynne M. Valente, Clarkesworld Magazine, Issue 100, January 2015

“Once in a while, he worries, but about what? Like the scattered clouds that drift over farmland in the afternoon, that sort of anxiety is what, ultimately?”
― Tang Fei, Clarkesworld Magazine, Issue 100, January 2015