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"The Handmaid's Tale", by Margaret Atwood.

"I want to be held and told my name. I want to be valued, in ways that I am not; I want to be more than valuable. I repeat my former name; remind myself of what I once could do, how others saw me. I want to steal something." from The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood.

"I take it from her, turn it around so I can see I right-side-up. Is this her, is this what she's like? My treasure. So tall and changed. Smiling a little now, so soon, and in her white dress as if for an olden-days First Communion. Time has not stood still. It has washed over me, whashed me away, as if I'm nothing more than a woman of sand, left by a careless child too near the water. I have been obliterated for her. I am only a shadow now, far back behind the glib shiny surface of this photograph. A shadow of a shadow, as dead mothers become. You can see it in her eyes: I am not there.", from The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood.

"There is something subversive about this garden of Serena's, a sense of buried things bursting upwards, wordlessly, into the light, as if to point, to say: Whatever is silenced will clamor to be heard, though silently.", from The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood.

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"Juniper & Thorn", by Ava Reid.

"Yes, I live. I can cross the streets asking, "What year is it?" I can dance in my sleep and laugh in front of the mirror.", from Author's Prayer, by Ilya Kaminsky.

"But even we were warned never to touch the juniper tree, which bore berries of the most dangerous variety: both poisonous and sweet. Whatever sick thing was in them, we could not be inured to it.", from Juniper & Thorn, by Ava Reid.

"Whatever the cause, I could only try to guard that small, ruined piece of myself, administer to it carefully without encouraging it to grow, until it could be lulled to a gentle death. I would not allow it to be fed any longer.", from Juniper & Thorn, by Ava Reid.

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"Lud-in-the-Mist", by Hope Mirrlees.

"From this there sprang an ever-present sense of insecurity together with a distrust of the homely things he cherished. With which familiar object - quill, pipe, pack of cards - would he be occupied, in which regularly recurrent action - the pulling on or off of his nightcap, the weekly auditing of his accounts - would he be engaged when IT, the hidden menace, sprang out at him ? And he would gaze in terror at his furniture, his walls, his pictures - what strange scene might they one day witness, what awful experience might he one day have in their presence?", from Lud-in-the-Mist, by Hope Mirrlees.

"'And if all the gifts of Life are good, perhaps, too, are all the shapes she chooses to take, and which we cannot alter. The shape she has taken now for Dorimare is that of an invasion by our ancient foes. Why should we not make a virtue of necessity and throw our gates wide to them as friends?'" from Lud-in-the-Mist, by Hope Mirrlees.

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"A Closed and Common Orbit", by Becky Chambers.

"Jane 64 wasn't saying anything, just breathing real hard and heavy. Scared, probably, but she wasn't talking about going back to bed any more, either. Hane 23 understood. She felt the same way. Jane 23 stuck her hand out beyond the edge of the broken wall. It was real cold, for sure, but not cold like metal was cold or the floor in the bathroom was cold. It was just cold, everywhere. Her skin got tight and made little bumps. It wasn't a very good feeling, but she liked it anyway, just as she liked it whenever she got to taste soap or blood or anything that wasn't a meal. It was different. The cold felt different.", from A Closed and Common Orbit, by Becky Chambers.

"Sidra stayed in the corner long after she heard Pepper walk out the front door. She wrestled with the ugly knot of emotions clouding her processes. She was angry with Pepper for not understanding. She was grateful for Pepper trying to help. She was angry with Pepper for not agreeing with her about Linking access. She was ashamed of how she'd behaved just then. She was justified in how she'd behaved just then. She wasn't. She was.", from A Closed and Common Orbit, by Becky Chambers.

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"A Study in Drowning", by Ava Reid.

"'Have you heard the expression about the frog in hot water? If you raise the temperature slowly, he won't notice a thing until he's boiled alive. A soft-bellied Northerner might have seen the danger coming, but the Southerners practically had scales and fins themselves. The sea took and took and took, thousands of little deaths, and they endured it all because they knew nothing else. They didn't think to fear the Drowning until the water was lapping at their door'", from A Study in Drowning, by Ava Reid.

"What wisdom do you want from a death-marked girl? I can say only this: In the end I learned that the water was in me. It was a ghost that could not be exorcised. But a guest, even uninvited, must be attended to. You make up a bed for them. You pour from your best bottle of wine. If you can learn to love that which despises you, that which terrifies you, you can dance on the shore and play in the waves again, like you did when you were young. Before the ocean is friend or foe, it simply is. And so are you.", from A Study in Drowning, by Ava Reid.

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"Les Fourneaux de Crachemort", by Raphaël Bardas.

"-Dans ses yeux, ma belle, il y avait des doigts, des doigts tout petits, comme ceux d'un enfant. Dans sa bouche, il y avait un sac… un sac d'infini… J'y ai vu le visage d'un gosse qui fouissait vers la surface. C'est ça, oui, c'est ça. Dans sa gueule de ces guerriers siluriens, il y a des enfants qui cherchent à s'enfuir.", from Les Fourneaux de Crachemort, by Raphaël Bardas.

"Nous vivons une grande gête foraine dans la gueule titanesque d'une ogresse amnésique. Un simple hoquet pourrait la faire se refermer sur nous. Errant parmi eux, je me crois dans un carnaval où nul n'a eu besoin de se déguiser. Laideur et difformité sont de mise en ces lieux. Seuls les itinérants ont l'air normaux. Le monde est inversé. Les artistes ont besoin de masques et d'échasses, de grelots et de tambourins, mais ils divertissent les gens du cru qui, eux, n'ont besoin d'aucun de ces artifices pour nous faire côtoyer la démence au moindre regard.", from Les Fourneaux de Crachemort, by Raphaël Bardas.

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''Flowers for Algernon'', by Daniel Keyes.

''As we entered the cafeteria on Forty-fifth Street and picked up our trays, she spoke animatedly. 'Ordinary people,' she said, 'can see only a little bit. They can't change much or go any higher than they are, but you're a genius. You'll keep going up and up, and see more and more. And each step will reveal worlds you never knew existed.'

People on the line who heard her turned to stare at me, and only when I nudged her to stop did she lower her voice. 'I just hope to God,' she whispered, 'that you don't get hurt.' '', from Flowers for Algernon, by Daniel Keyes.

''What drives me out of the apartment to prowl through the city? I wander through the streets alone - not the relaxing stroll of a summer night, but the tense hurry to get - where? Down alleyways, looking into doorways, peering into half- shuttered windows, wanting someone to talk to and yet afraid to meet anyone. Up one street, and down another, through the endless labyrinth, hurling myself against the neon cage of the city. Searching ... for what?'', from Flowers for Algernon, by Daniel Keyes.

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''The Last Unicorn'', by Peter S. Beagle.

''This is illusion, the unicorn told herself. This is illusion - and somehow raised a head heavy with death to stare deep into the dark of the last cage and see, not Old Age, but Mommy Fortuna herself, stretching and snickering and clambering to the ground with her old eerie ease. And the unicorn knew then that she had not become mortal and ugly at all, but she did not reel beautiful again. Perhaps that was illusion too, she thought wearily.'', from The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle.

'''Oh,' Molly said. 'Oh, what have you done?' and, heedless og any danger, she ran to the girl and knelt beside her. The Red Bull raised his huge, blind head and swung it slowly in Schmendrick's direction. He seemed to be waning and fading as the gray sky grew light, though he still smoldered as savagely bright as crawling lava. The magician wondered what his true size was, and his color, when he was alone.'', from The Last Unicorn, by Peter S. Beagle.

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"Eden", by Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir.

"I was standing on my patch of grass, holding the tail of a mouse I'd caught in the house and looking for a hole to put it in, when a sentence I'd recently read in an article suddenly came to mind: language is the main tool of human beings in their struggle for power. It made me realise that although my job is to analyse how ideas and feelings fit into the mould of language, I haven't always been very good at matching my thoughts to my words. It's both strange and illogical that a mouse should be the source of such thoughts, and it's even stranger that, just afterwards, I decided to build a stone wall.", from Eden, by Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir.

"While I'm drinking my coffee, he asks me if I still sometimes dream that I'm flying. I tell him that yes, I see myself flying over the Earth and observing it. Sometimes I even leave the atmosphere. I thought for a moment before adding that on the night Hlynur died, I dreamt I was floating above my property and that beside the stone wall was an orchard of fruit trees in blossom.

-In the centre were two apple trees in blossom.", from from Eden, by Auður Ava Ólafsdóttir.

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"The Morning Star", by Karl Ove Knausgaard.

"The flat black surface of the fjord shimmered. And then, once again, it began to burn. In the mountains. I stopped. No, it wasn't a fire. Something was appearing in the sky. A star. A mega star. Did it really exist? Or was it a figment of my imagination too? As it rose, the light spread across the sky and sparkled on the water. A couple arriving opposite me had also seen it and were staring up at the star, mouths agape in their embrace. Below me, cars had stopped on the big bridge, their doors opened and people were getting out. I'd never seen anything so beautiful. A mega star. And it really existed.", from The Morning Star, by Karl Ove Knausgaard.

"Wake up, you sleepy head, Put on some clothes, shake up your bed Put another log on the fire for me I've made some breakfast and coffee Look out my window, what do I see A crack in the sky and a hand reaching down to me

All the nightmares came today And it looks as though they're here to stay", from Oh! You Pretty Things, by David Bowie.

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"Klara and the Sun", by Kazuo Ishiguro.

"Picture Josie and Picture Rick appeared to be floating in the sky, the trees, roads and houses far below reduced to miniature sizes. Behind them, in one section of sky, were seven birds flying in formation. Picture Josie was holding up with two hands a much larger bird, offering it as a special gift to Picture Rick. Picture Josie had a large smile, and Picture Rick a look of thrilled amazement. There was no bubble for Picture Rick. The only one was for Picture Josie's thoughts, and inside it Rick had written : 'I wish I could go out and walk and run and skateboard and swim in lakes. But I can't because my mother has Courage. So instead I get to stay in bed and be sick. I'm glad about this. I really am.'", from Klara and the Sun, by Kazuo Ishiguro.

"'Mr Capaldi believed there was nothing special inside Josie that couldn't be continued. He told the Mother he'd searched and searched and found nothing like that. But I believe now he was searching in the wrong place. The was something very special, but it wasn't inside Josie. It was inside those who loved her. That's why I think now Mr Capaldi was wrong and I wouldn't have succeeded. So I'm glad I decided as I did.'", from Klara and the Sun, by Kazuo Ishiguro.

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"The Ten Thousand Doors of January", by Alix E. Harrow.

"At this point, you're thinking that this story isn't really about Doors, but about the more private, and altogether more miraculous, doors that can open between two hearts. Maybe it is, in the end - I happen to believe every sotry is a love story if you catch it at the right moment, slantwise in the light of dusk - but that wasn't the case then.", from The Ten Thousand Doors of January, by Alix E. Harrow.

"Firstly, because what is written is what is true. Words and their meanings carry weight in the material world; they shape and reshape realities by means of a very ancient alchemy. Even my own writings - vain as they are - can have just enough power to reach the right person and tell the truth that will change the nature of things.", from The Ten Thousand Doors of January, by Alix E. Harrow.

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"Dans l'Ombre de Paris", first song of "La Dernière Geste", by Morgan of Glencoe.

"Yuri baissa les yeux. Son hôtesse avait raison raison. Assister son époux lorsqu'il le requiert, organiser les réceptions royales et donner un héritier au Royaume de France. Ils vécurent heureux et eurent beaucoup d'enfants. Fin de l'histoire. Fin de la vie. Fin des rêves. À vingt ans. Comme un trai qui s'arrêtait parvenu au bout des rails, sans possibilité de dévier de sa route ni même de la poursuivre un peu plus loin. L'image de la Capitaine Trente-Chênes s'imposa à l'esprit de la jeune femme. "Cette femme n'a pas de chaperon", avait dit Ryûzaki. Pas de chaperon. Pas de père, pas de fiancé, pas d'époux, pas de fils. Pas d'obligations envers un homme qui lui serait supérieur. Et tout un équipage à ses ordres. Qu'importait qu'elle obtînt l'obéissance par le respect ou par la crainte? Un souvenir lointain lui revint en mémoire. un oeil bleu entre des cheveux noirs. La petite Selkie de Gôshi Mayo, enfermée dans sa cage, l'avait dévisagée avec compassion. Comme si la fée avait perçu l'invisible prison dans laquelle on l'élevait, elle, Nekohaima Yuri-hime, troisième femme du Japon, et compris sa solitude.", from Dans l'Ombre de Paris.

"-Pyro, regarde-moi. Tu vas bientôt avoir seize ans, et tu n'as jamais vu le ciel, parce que tu es né ici. Moi, je suis née sous un ciel infini, dans un océan si immense que tu es né ici. Moi, je suis née sous un ciel infini, dans un océan si immense que tu ne peux même pas l'imaginer. J'en ai profité durant bien des années, et il y a un mois encore je dansais sous des étoiles que tu n'as connues qu'en rêve. Voilà pourquoi tu dois aller avec Lady Lore et les enfants. Pour voir les étoiles, le ciel et la mer. Tu ne dois pas mourir avant de les avoir vus, les avoir vus pour de vrai, pas seulement un morceau de ciel et trois étoiles blafardes perdues entre deux immeubles… -Mais pourquoi? -Tu comprendras lorsque tu les verras.", from Dans l'Ombre de Paris.

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"Once There Were Wolves", by Charlotte McConaghy.

"Aggie raises one hand to follow the contours of her face, feeling with one finger her cheeks, my cheeks, her forehead, my forehead, her lips, my lips. 'I couldn't let you go,' I say again, feeling viscerally the touch of her finger on my skin, and yet, isn't this a trick of my mind - to give reality to what has none? 'Are you a ghost?' Aggie squeezes my hand so hard it hurts, so hard my bones threaten to break. She's trying to hurt me, that's for sure. Then she makes a sign. One of the first she's made up. I don't know what it is.", from Once There Were Wolves.

"Holding her breath, she lifts my chin and we both look up so as not to miss anything of the spectacle the sky offers us, it dances green, purple, blue, colours too incandescent to feature in the Werner, and I cry again but for the beauty of the world now, for its subtle appeal, for the mystery it holds and its temporality, for its deep understanding, so deep, when I was so close to the edge and I came back, and I wonder if that's what Aggie sees every time she comes back to me.", from Once There Were Wolves.

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"Contact", by Carl Sagan.

"'I've been searching, Eleanor. After all these years, believe me, I know the truth when I see it. Any faith that admires truth, that strives to know God, must be brave enough to accomodate the universe. I mean the real universe. All those light-years. All thos worlds. I think of the scope of your universe, the opportunities it affords the Creator, and it takes my breath away. It's much better than bottling Him up in one small world. I never liked the idea of Earth as God's green footstool. It was too reassuring, like a children's story... like a tranquilizer. But your universe has room enough, and time enough, for the kind of God I believe in.'", from Contact.

"Above the table on which the chattering telefax sat was a mirror. In it she saw a woman neither young nor old, neither mother nor daughter. They had been right to keep the truth from her. She was nos sufficiently advanced to receive that signal, much less decrypt it. She had spent her career attempting to make contact with the most remote and alien of strangers, while in her own life she had made contact with hardly anyone at all. She had been fierce in debunking the creation myths of others, and oblivious to the lie at the core of her own. She had studied the universe all her life, but had overlooked its clearest message: For small creatures such as we the vastness is bearable only through love.", from Contact.

"The universe seems... to have been determined and ordered in accordance with number, by the forethought and the mind of the creator of all things; for the pattern was fixed, like a preliminary sketch, by the domination of number preexistent in the mind of the world-creating God.", from Arithmetic I, 6, by Nicomachus of Gerasa.

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"Tales from the Café", by Toshikazu Kawaguchi.

"Left alone, Kazu gazed at the woman in white who was reading her book in silence. 'Forgive me, Mummy, I'm not yet...' she suddenly whispered. All around her, the ticking of the clocks continued, deafening. Still... And on and on...", from Tales from the Café.

"'You've got nothing to reproach yourself for,' we said to little Kazu. I'm the one who made Mum's coffee... This truth remained indelible in hte little girl's mind. As the days went by, a conclusion became clearer and clearer: I killed Mum...", from Tales from the Café.

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"Crooked Kingdom", by Leigh Bardugo.

"At last he put the flute down in his lap. 'How long have you been here?' She stayed silent. He leaned forward, seeking some answer in those vague hazel eyes. 'What did they do to you?' She laid a gentle hand on his cheek. Her palm felt cool and dry. 'What did they do to you?'", from Crooked Kingdom.

"'Go home to Ravka, Nina. Be free, as you were meant to be. Be a warrior, as you always have been. Just save some mercy for my people. There has to be a Fjerda worth saving. Promise me.' 'I promise.' The words were more sob than sound. 'I have been made to protect you. Even in death, I will find a way.' He clasped her hand tighter. 'Bury me so I can go to Djel. Bury me so I can take root and follow the water north.' 'I promise, Matthias. I'll take you home.' 'Nina,' he said, pressing her hand to his heart. 'I am already home.' The light vanished from his eyes. His chest stilled beneath her hands. Nina screamed, a howl that tore from the black space where her heart had beat only moments before.", from Crooked Kingdom.