The Grimm Legacy Quotes

“The one who asks questions does not lose his way.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“What I mean is, all the terrible things that happen in fairy tales seem real. Or not real, but genuine. Life is unfair, and the bad guys keep winning and good people die. But I like how that's not always the end of it...Evil is real, but so is good. They always say fairy tales are simplistic, black and white, but I don't think so. I think they're complicated. That's what I love about them.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“So how did you get this job, anyway?' I asked.
'My science teacher.'
'Why'd he pick you?'
'For my brains and good looks, obviously.'
'Yeah, right. My social studies teacher picked me, but I can't really figure out why."
'For your brains and good looks, obviously.'
'Um, thanks.' Had Aaron just complimented me? Wow.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Good," said Dr. Rust. "Take Elizabeth up to stack 9 and show her the ropes."
"But the ropes are on stack 2."
"I meant metaphorically.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Seeing the transformation in Aaron made me wonder how it would feel to have someone-even a not-so-nice guy like Aaron- look at me the way he looked at Anjali.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Oh, a mermaid's comb. Heavy stuff, but safe enough as long as you don't use it around water. Or a busy highway. You're not planning to lure any young men to their doom, are you?"
How embarrassing! I shook my head, blushing.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“What are you doing?"
"I'm darning a sock," he said, holding it up to show me.
"What's that lump inside?"
"A sock egg."
"A sock egg? I didn't know socks hatched from eggs."
"Only the best ones do. I can't wear the cheap kind, the ones that grow on trees. They give me blisters.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“You're just jealous," I said.
"You can believe what you want," Aaron said. "But somebody's stealing from the Grimm Collection. They're either taking the objects or somehow sucking out their magic. Doc and theh librarians are going to find out who, and if Marc is in on it, you're going to be sorry you were helping him."
"Marc isn't in on it. And I love this place too! We're all on the same side!"
"I hope that's true," Aaron said.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Fairy tales might not be history, but as I learned in the hours I spent in the library over Christmas break, Wilhelm and Jacob Grimm were historians. They didn’t invent their fairy tales—they collected them, writing down the folk tales and stories they heard from friends and servants, aristocrats and innkeepers’ daughters.

Their first collection of stories was meant for grown-ups and I could see why—they’re way too bloody and creepy for children. Even the heroes go around boiling people in oil and feeding them red-hot coals. Imagine Disney making a musical version of “The Girl Without Hands,” a story about a girl whose widowed father chops off her hands when she refuses to marry him!”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“isn't that dangerous?" I objected. "What if somebody used it on people - what if they put it on replace and turned us all into fictional characters?"
"How do you know they haven't?" asked Marc.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“We sipped in silence for a while, watching the lights across the river.

“So what did you really leave as a deposit?”
“My ambition.”
“You? Never.”
“My sense of t-t-timing?”
I shook my head. “Uh-uh.”
“My most precious memory—of the moment I met you?”
“Fine, don’t tell me.”

He put down his cocoa mug, took the empty mug out of my hand, and put it down. He leaned forward—much too far forward—and fell, taking me down with him. “My sense of balance,” he whispered into my hair.
I pushed at him. “Ow, get off, you’re on my arm.”
He shifted his weight but didn’t move away. “My inhibitions,” he whispered into the other ear.

Then he kissed me.
He tasted of chocolate and ginger and apples. Spring air, books. New grass. Magic.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Interesting question. There’s a great deal of scholarly debate in the community over whether any artificially induced love can ever be permanent. Or any natural love, for that matter. Any so-called natural love, assuming any love is natural.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“It’s like milking a cow. The table gets antsy if it goes too long without feeding people. And we’ll have to touch it anyway, to clean it.” Anjali lifted the lid of a dish. A savory smell, heavy on cabbage, filled the room. “Want to start with the sausages or the potatoes?”

“Sausages, definitely,” said Marc.
“Okay . . .” She lifted more lids and poked around with a fork. “You can have blutwurst, zervelatwurst, bockwurst, plockwurst, leberwurst, knackwurst, and, of course, bratwurst. And what’s this? Weisswurst, I think.”

“Some of each, please,” said Marc.
Anjali handed him a plate piled with wursts. “What about you, Elizabeth?”
“Um, I’m not crazy about sausage—maybe just some potatoes?”

“Okay,” said Anjali. “Kartoffelbällchen, kartoffeltopf, kartoffelkroketten, kartoffelbrei, kartoffelknödel, kartoffelkrusteln, kartoffelnocken, kartoffelpuffer, kartoffelklösse, or kartoffelschnitz? Or maybe some schmorkartoffeln? Or just plain fries?”

“I don’t know—surprise me.”
“Here. Überbackene käsekartoffeln, my favorite. It has cheese.”
“Thanks.” It was delicious and very rich—tender potato slices, with a creamy cheese sauce. “How do you know all those names?” I asked.
“I looked them up. I wanted to know what we were eating.” Anjali peered under more lids.
“You know Anjali—she loves to look things up. Any spätzle?” asked Marc.
“What’s spätzle?”
“Sort of a cross between homemade pasta and dumplings,” said Anjali. “Oh, here’s hasenpfeffer! I love hasenpfeffer!”
“What’s hasenpfeffer?”
“Stewed rabbit with black pepper.” She dished herself a plate. “Mmmm! Don’t tell my parents—we’re vegetarians at home.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy

“Ms. Callender was nodding her round face in agreement. “Even the stuff that sounds safe is dangerous,” she said. “Like the pot in ‘Sweet Porridge.’ When you say, ‘Cook, little pot, cook,’ it makes sweet millet porridge. Sounds harmless, right?”

“Yes, I remember the story,” I said. Nobody told the pot to stop cooking until it had filled half the houses in town with porridge. The householders had to eat their way out. The story didn’t say whether anybody drowned.”
― Polly Shulman, The Grimm Legacy