Clichés are relatives of the fairy tale, and tropes aren’t bad; they go with the territory.

— Seanan McGuire

Crazy gets all the knives.

— Seanan McGuire

Don't let anyone tell you, ever, that this is a zero-sum game. Your genius does not threaten me. It delights and inspires me.

— Seanan McGuire

Doors opened everywhere. Maybe one day, the children of this world who had gone to that world to save themselves would see a door that didn't fit right with the surrounding walls, something with a doorknob made of a moon, or a knocker that winked. Maybe they could still go home,

— Seanan McGuire

Even when she slept, she tossed and turned and squirmed, like she was secretly a hurricane forced into a girl-body and told to exist as best she could among people who had no idea what it meant to secretly be a weather pattern.

— Seanan McGuire

Everyone thinks of them in terms of poisoned apples and glass coffins, and forgets that they represent girls who walked into dark forests and remade them into their own reflections.

— Seanan McGuire

Faeries are real. Magic is real. My tendency to greet dangerous situations by plunging in headfirst and seeing how long it takes to get myself covered head to toe in blood is also real.

— Seanan McGuire

For is it not said That Girl Knows No Fear, and Dammit, Fran, She's Going To Get Herself ET, and This Is From Your Side Of The Family, Jonathan, No One In My Family Has Ever Hugged A Basilisk Before?

— Seanan McGuire

For us, places we went were home. We didn't care if they were good or evil or neutral or what. We cared about the fact that for the first time, we didn't have to pretend to be something we weren't. Furthermore, we just got to be. That made all the difference in the world.

— Seanan McGuire

Growing up in my family meant ambushes on your birthday, crossbows for Christmas, and games of dodgeball where the balls were occasionally rigged to explode. It also meant learning how to work your way out of a wide variety of death traps. Failure to get loose on your own could lead to missing dinner, or worse, being forced to admit that you missed dinner because your baby sister had tied you to the couch. Again.

— Seanan McGuire