Catherine Fisher
Catherine Fisher
Catherine Fisheris a Welsh writer, broadcaster and adjudicator who lives in Newport. Her former jobs include working as a primary school teacher and archaeologist. She also taught Writing for Children at the University of Glamorgan...
NationalityWelsh
ProfessionWriter
survival pay
Freedom is a small price to pay for survival.
song stars coats
I have walked a stair of swords, I have worn a coat of scars. I have vowed with hollow words, I have lied my way to the stars -Songs of Sapphique
stars prison found
He had wanted so hard to Escape, to find the stars. And all he had found was a new prison.
perfect world scared
And what would they be scared of? There's nothing to fear in a perfect world, is there?
hate enemy enough
He was her enemy, and she hated him because she could not hate him enough.
hate sorrow sticks
I hate her." Merlin laughed, tossing the stick down. "Not so. You have forgotten how to love. That's a different sorrow.
eye giving chloe
Chloe turned to Vetch. The poet said gently, "You see, you do have power. Words give you power, to create or destroy." His eyes flickered to Clare. "Even to forgive...
loss dark soul
Even across the dark, even across the loss, even across the emptiness, soul will speak to soul
love-you i-trust-you masters
I trust you, Jared," she whispered. "I always did. I love you, Master.
eye thinking flames
In the Sapient tongue he said softly, ‘Tell me, Master, did you know Incarceron was tiny?’ ‘Is it?’ Sapphique replied in the same language, his green eyes as he looked up lit by deep points of flame. ‘To you, perhaps. Not to its Prisoners. Every prison is a universe for its inmates. And think, Jared Sapiens. Might not the Realm also be tiny, swinging from the watchchain of some being in a world even vaster?
past men artist
We are chained hand and foot by protocol, enslaved to a static, empty world where men and women can’t read, where the scientific advances of the ages are the preserve of the rich, where artists and poets are doomed to endless repetitions and sterile reworking of past masterpieces. Nothing is new. New does not exist. Nothing changes, nothing grows, evolves, develops. Time has stopped. Progress is forbidden
All my life I have dreamed of you.
order mind world
When you draw, you copy the world don't you? You remake it on paper, but it isn't the same. It's yours. No one else could have created it just like that. When I make poems, I use the words we all use, but the order and the sound create a new power. This wood is someone's creation. We stumble through it's tendrils, as if we're crawling through the synapses of his mind.
two secret safe
It's safe to tell a secret to one. Risky to tell it to two. To tell it to three is thoughtless folly, everyone else will know.