About Anne Ursu: Anne Ursu is an American novelist and children's writer based in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
There were so many Jacks she had known, and he had known so many Hazels. And maybe she wasn't going to be able to know all the Jacks that there would be. But all the Hazels that ever would be would have Jack in them, somewhere.
She looked at her shelves, filled with books in which the bad stuff that happened to people was caused by things like witches who lured people into the woods. In a weird way, the world seemed to make more sense that way.
What are you supposed to do when something like that happens? Do you hold on or let go?
She just eyed them coolly, as if they were nothing to her, as if their nothingness surprised and slightly repelled her.
Now, the world is more than it seems to be. You know this, of course, because you read stories. You understand that there is the surface and then there are all the things that glimmer and shift underneath it. And you know that not everyone believes i...
His words sounded foolish to his own ears. He was not impressive. He was small like the world.
If shadows were caused by the interplay between light and Life, a child's was still forming. An adult's was inextricably bound to his body, but a child had a tenuous relationship to his own permanence, and thus, his own shadow.
She did not like seeing her loved ones like this, bent over with sorrow; everything in her wanted to cry out, to thrash and scream at the sight of it. But she knew that great grief came from great love, and that their grief was an honor to her. And s...
Teachers loved to say people had potential; that's what teachers did to keep themselves from getting canned. What were they supposed to say-
