Kristin Cashore Quotes

Helda's been trying to impress me with the embroidery on the sheets. One more minute and I thought I might use them to hang myself."
"My mother did the embroidery," Bittterblue said.
Katsa clapped her mouth shut and glared at Helda. "Thank you, Helda, for mentioning that detail.

You don't need to be strong to drive your thumbs into a man's eyeballs," Katsa said, "but it does a lot of damage."
"That's disgusting," Bitterblue said.
"Someone your size doesn't have the luxury of fighting cleanly, Bitterblue.

Go safely. Go safely, she thought to him. What a silly, empty thing it was to say to anyone, anywhere.

Maybe it was for the best that she'd been so foolish, for if she'd known how hard this would be, perhaps she wouldn't have done it.

It has been a hard lesson to learn, that greatness requires suffering.

Katsa sat in the darkness of the Sunderan forest and understood three truths. She loved Po. She wanted Po. And she could never be anyone's but her own.

I push everyone I love away."
He shrugged.
"I don't mind you pushing me away if it means you love me, little sister.

She hadn't expected to have such an immediate opportunity to practice containing her temper.

In the end, Leck should have stuck to his lies. For it was the truth he almost told that killed him.

Children are geniuses.

Part of avoiding thoughts about something was not encouraging opportunities for that something to makes itself felt.

You're the queen, and it's the queen's house, and whatever Brigan may accomplish, he's highly unlikely ever to be queen.

I'll give myself to you however you'll take me,' he said, so simply that Katsa found she wasn't embarrassed.

Always one of the trials of a new wound: old wounds like to rise up and start hurting again, too.

And the kings were no better to their own people than they were to each others.

I wonder if it's meant to be punishment for something one can't forgive oneself for. Or an external expression, Lady Queen, of an internal pain? Or perhaps it's a way to realise that you actually do want to stay alive.

If her enemies were Brigan's friends and her friends were Brigan's enemies, then the two of them could walk through the world arm in arm and never be hit by arrows again.

Did you ever love someone," Lucy says, "and know they love you, and you're attracted to them, and you know they're attracted to you, and so many things are exactly right, but it doesn't matter, because the few things that are wrong are completely, totally fucked?

Generally she avoided mirrors. It embarrassed her to lose her own breath at the sight of herself.

Great seas," he said.
"What do you want?"
He held the candle up to her face.
"Po, what do you want?"
"She did a far better job than I would've done.

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courtyards at midnight, disguised. And besides,

Not all people who inspire devotion are monsters.

I'll give myself to you however you'l take me," he said, so simply that Katsa found she wasn't embarrassed. She watched his face.

A man who fights you as he does is no better than an opportunist and no worse than a thug.

And then Holt, the Queen's Guard, placed his maps on the desk, neatly so they would not fall, tipped Thiel over one shoulder, tipped Death over the other, and stood under his load. In the astonished silence that followed, Holt lumbered toward Runnemood, who, understanding, let out a snort and stalked from the room of his own accord. Then Holt carried his outraged burdens away on either shoulder, just as they got their voices back. Bitterblue could hear them screaming their indignation all the way down the stairs.

Lady Queen," he said, "You've given me all I want. You're the queen a librarian dreams of.

Bitterblue took this information straight to the library. "Death?" she said. "Do we have birth records for the seven kingdoms for the year Leck would have been born? Will you review them for someone with a name that sounds like Eemkerr?"
"A name that sounds like Eemkerr," Death repeated, peering up at her from his new desk, which was covered with smelly, scorched papers.
"Lady Fire says that Leck told her that before his name was Leck, it was Eemkerr."
"Which is a name she remembers from almost fifty years ago," Death said sarcastically, "spoken to her, not spelled, presumably not a name from her own language, and conveyed to you mentally fifty years later. And I'm to recall every instance of a name of that nature in all the birth records available to me from the relevant year for all seven kingdoms, on the extremely slim chance that we have the name right and a record exists?"
"I know you're just as happy as I am," said Bitterblue.
Death's mouth twitched. Then he said, "Give me some time to remember, Lady Queen.

They would assume she was a boy, because in her plain trousers and hood she looked like one, and because when people were attacked it never occurred to anyone that it might have been a girl.

All right," Clara said. "We have our swordsman, so let's get moving. Brigan, could you attempt, at least, to make yourself presentable? I know this is a war, but the rest of us are trying to pretend it's a party.

Then she marched to the pillows and beat them mercilessly until they lay puffed out like obedient clouds.

She's sleeping now, happy as a kitten in a patch of sun.

Prince Brigan. And where's your Lady?"
"In her history lesson. She went without complaint and I've been trying to prepare myself for what it might mean. Either she's planning to bribe me about something or she's ill.

Tess had said that the river was liable to wash the palace and the city and the whole kingdom off the rocks, and then there would finally be peace in the world.
"Peace in the world," Brigan repeated musingly when Fire told him. "I suppose she's right. That would bring peace to the world. But it's not likely to happen, so I suppose we'll have to keep blundering on and making a mess of it."
"Oh," Fire said, "well put. We'll have to pass that on to the governor so he can use it in his speech when they dedicate the new bridge.

Then come here," he said, a bit redundantly, as he had already pulled her with him into an armchair and curled her up in his arms. "Tell me what I can do to help you feel better."
Fire looked into his quiet eyes, touched his dear, familiar face, and considered the question. Well. I always like when you kiss me.
"Do you?"
You're good at it.
"Well," he said. "That's lucky, because I'll always be kissing you.

I wish people would stop hitting Po," whispered Bitterblue.
"Well," Giddon said. "Yes. I'm hoping Skye is following my model. Punch Po; go on a long trip; feel better; come back and make up.

My range for you is...broader than most.

Perhaps it's the promise of your angry face that keeps me misbehaving,' he said. 'You're so beautiful when you're angry.

It seemed to Fire it was rarely enough one knew a person one wished to marry. How unjust then to meet that person, and be kept from it because one's bed was made of hay and not feathers.

She groped forward, hands and feet, in search of darkness, distance and solitude.

You do trust him, though, Giddon?"
"Holt, who is stealing your sculptures and is of questionable mental health?"
"Yes."
"I trusted him five minutes ago. Now I'm at a bit of a loss."
"Your opinion five minutes ago is good enough for me.

Really," said Thiel crossly, bending to collect them, "I was quite clear to Darby that we wished a single, recent map. Take these away, Death. They're unnecessary."
"All paper maps are recent," said Death with a sniff, "when one considers the vastness of geological time."
"Her Majesty merely wishes to see the city as it is today," said Thiel.
"A city is a living organism, always changing-

They sat on the outcropping of stone and at bread and fruit. Kasta watched the long grass moving around them. The wind pushed it, attacked it, struck it in one place than another. It rose and fell again. It flowed, like water.
"Is this what the sea is like?" Kasta asked, and they both turned to her, surprised. "Does the sea move the way this grass moves?"
"It's like the sea," she said.
Giddon's eyes on her were incredulous.
"What? Is it such a strange thing to say?"
"It's a strange thing for you to say." He shook his head. He gathered their bread and fruit, then rose. "The Lienid fighter is filling your mind with romantic notions.

That's not even a thing.

That's how memory works ... Things disappear without your permission, then come back again without your permission.

He thinks we're made of money.

She crossed the room to him, put her arms around him, clung to him, turning her face to the side, learning all at once that it was awkward to show a person all of one's love when one's nose was broken.

Lady Katsa, is it?"
"Yes, Lord Prince."
"I've heard you have one eye green as the Middluns grasses, and the other eye blue as the sky."
"Yes, Lord Prince."
"I've heard you can kill a man with the nail of your smallest finger."
She smiled. "Yes, Lord Prince."
"Does it make it easier?"
"I don't understand you."
"To have beautiful eyes. Does it lighten the burden of your Grace, to know you have beautiful eyes?

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Would you please do me the honor of telling me WHAT THE BLAZES IS GOING ON?

That's interesting," Bitterblue said. "You think a conscience requires fear?

Why does everybody throw every troublesome thing into the river?

What man can hate or love well when he is drugged?

You look - crazed."
"It's an artist thing," Jane says. "Don't worry about it.

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Rain is a musical patter against Jane's imagination. Every umbrella is born knowing that sound, its soul straining for that sound, waiting patiently through rainless day after rainless day for the day when raindrops will thrum against its skin.

[ ... ] But the world doesn't care who wins. It'll go on spinning, no matter how many people are slaughtered tomorrow. No matter if you and I are slaughtered." After a moment, he added, "I almost wish it wouldn't, if we aren't allowed to go spinning with it.

He was handsome, like Po, and confident, like Po, and so much more authoritative in his bearing than Po could ever be. But - this Katsa came gradually to understand - he was not drunk on his power. He might never dream of helping a sailor to haul a rope, but he would stand with the sailor interestedly while the sailor hauled the rope, and ask him questions about the rope, about his work, his home, his mother and father, his cousin who spent a year once in the lakes of Nander. It struck Katsa that there was a thing she'd never encountered: a king who looked at his people, instead of looking over their heads, a king who saw outside himself.

Why did hatred so often make men think of rape? And there was the flaw in her monster power. As often as the power of her beauty made one man easy to control, it made another man uncontrollable and mad.

Roen snorted. "You two have the strangest relationship in the Dells."
Archer smiled slightly. "She won't consent to make it a marriage."
"I can't imagine what's stopping her. I don't suppose you've considered being less munificent with your love?"
"Would you marry me, Fire, if I slept in no one's bed but yours?"
He knew the answer to that, but it didn't hurt to remind him. "No, and I should find my bed quite cramped.

Raffin and Bann stood together, propped against the wall and against each other, half dozing. At one point, Raffin, not knowing he had one small, curious witness, gave Bann a sleepy kiss on the ear.
Bitterblue had wondered that about them. I t was nice when something in the world became clear. Especially when it was a nice thing.

It seems to me that a fair number of people are happy to be as cruel as their power allows,

Brigan had remembered his coat, a fine long coat that Fire liked, because Brigan was wearing it, and Brigan was quick and strong, and always seemed comfortable whatever he was wearing.

While I was looking the other way your fire went out
Left me with cinders to kick into dust
What a waste of the wonder you were
In my living fire I will keep your scorn and mine
In my living fire I will keep your heartache and mine
At the disgrace of a waste of a life

Kasta looked from one of them to the other, the two of them shaking hands, understanding each other's concern. She didn't see where Giddon came off feeling insulted. She didn't see how Giddon had any place in it at all. Who were they, to take her fight away from her and turn it into some sort of understanding between themselves? She would knock his nose from his face. She would thump them both, and she would apologise to neither.

The Queen of Monsea, in trousers and short hair, looking for all the world like a miniature pirate.

What she really loved was to hang over the edge and watch the bow of the ship slice through the waves. She loved it especially when the waves were high and the ship rose and fell, or when it was snowing and the flakes stung her face.

As she left the room, Po went to Katsa, pulled her up, sat himself in her chair, and drew her into his lap. Shushing her, he rocked her, the two of them holding on to each other as if it were the only thing keeping the world from bursting apart.

Q: Why do you use swear words on your blog, but never the F word?
A: Because I'm saving the F word for the day when I write a blog post about the for-profit health insurance industry and the way its CEOs become wealthy by not only preying on, but exacerbating, other people's personal tragedies.
*ahem*
Happy Monday, everyone :o)

The only way for you to keep your mind straight is to run from those who would confuse you.

Your horse is named Small.
Yes.
Mine is named Big.
-Fire and Brigan

It was when she returned to him, chilled & clearheaded, that it happened. He sat against the tree, his knees bent & his head in his hands. His shoulders slumped. Tired, unhappy. Something tender caught in her breath at the sight of him. And then he raised his eyes and looked at her, and she saw what she had not seen before. She gasped.
His eyes were beautiful. His face was beautiful to her in every way, and his shoulders and hands. And his arms that hung over his knees, and his chest that was not moving, because he held his breath as he watched her. And the heart in his chest. This friend. How had she not seen this before? How had she not seen him? She was blind. And then tears choked her eyes, for she had not asked for this. She had not asked for this beautiful man before her, with something hopeful in his eyes that she did not want.

Madlen came to sit beside her on the bed. "Lady Queen," she said with her own particular brand of rough gentleness. "It is not the job of the child to protect her mother. It's the mother's job to protect the child. By allowing your mother to protect you, you gave her a gift. Do you understand me?

Her fingers flew, her fiddle was an entire orchestra, and every note beautifully brought into being struck a chord of satisfaction within her. She wondered at the unfamiliar lightness in her chest and realised she was laughing.
So great was her focus, it took her a while to register the strange expression that crept to Brocker's face as he listened, finger tapping the armrest of his chair. His eyes were fixed behind Fire and to the right, in the direction of Archer's back doorway. Fire comprehended that someone must be standing in Archer's entrance, someone Brocker watched with startled eyes.
And then everything happened at once. Fire recognised the mind in the doorway; she spun around, fiddle and bow screeching apart; she stared at Prince Brigan leaning against the door frame.

From the warmth of her fondness for her horse she constructed a fragile and changeable thing that almost resembled courage. She hoped it would be enough.

Well then, "Katsa said. "Of course, we'll operate with the greatest possible secrecy, Bitterblue. And for what it's worth, we'll deny your involvement to our dying breaths, and I'll kill anyone who doesn't."
Bann began to laugh into Raffin's shoulder. Smiling, Raffin said sideways to him, "Can you imagine what it would be like to be able to say that and mean it?

Hanna's announced her intentions to marry Archer

Your sadness is one of the things that makes you beautiful to me. Don't you see that? I understand it. It makes my own sadness less frightening. (Brigan)

What's the true reason I've decided I trust him? Certainly his Council work recommends him, his choice of friends. But isn't it just as much the timbre of his voice? I like to hear him say words. I trust the deep way he says, 'Yes, Lady Queen.

It was a very hard thing to have crushed the heart, and the hopes, of a friend.

Only a person with the true heart of a dictionary-writer would be lying in bed, three days after being stabbed in the gut, worrying about his P's.

She wondered if a person could be powerful, but inside be broken into pieces, and shaking, all the time.

And then, with all her might, she focused her attention on the back of Po's head and screamed his name, inside her mind. He pulled on his reins so hard that his horse screeched and staggered and almost sat down. her own horse nearly collided with his. And he looked so startled and flabbergasted
and irritated
that she couldn't help it: She exploded with laughter.

Katsa has wondered if a person could ever build wings to fly with."
"What do you mean, to fly with?" said Bitterblue, suddenly irate.
"You know what I mean."
"You'll only encourage her to believe it can be done."
"I have no doubt it can be done."
"To what purpose?" snapped Bitterblue.
Po's eyebrows rose. "Flying would be its own purpose, Cousin. Don't worry, no one would ever expect the queen to do it."
No, I'll be left with the honor of planning the funerals.

Katsa and Po were trying to drown each other and, judging from their hoots of laughter, enjoying it immensely.

Because Roen is a strong-minded woman, and there's something consoling in the regard of a woman. Roen never desires me, or if she ever does, it's not the same.

For a moment, it was almost as if they were friends again.

She had thought she'd already reached her capacity for pain and had no room inside her for more. But she remembered having told Archer once that you could not measure love on a scale of degrees, and now she understood that it was the same with pain. Pain might escalate upwards, and, just when you'd thought you'd reached your limit, begin to spread sideways, and spill out, and touch other people, and mix with their pain. And grow larger, but somehow less oppressive. She had thought herself trapped in a place outside the ordinary feeling lives of other people; she had not noticed how many other people were trapped in that place with her.

Nonetheless, when it finally ended and the hairdressers left and Tess insisted upon pulling her to the mirror, Fire saw, and understood, that everyone had done the job well. The dress, deep shimmering purple and utterly simple in design, was so beautifully-cut and so clingy and well-fitting that Fire felt slightly naked. And her hair. She couldn't follow what they'd done with her hair, braids thin as threads in some places, looped and wound through the thick sections that fell over her shoulders and down her back, but she saw that the end result was a controlled wildness that was magnificent against her face, her body, and the dress. She turned to measure the effect on her guard - all twenty of them, for all had roles to play in tonight's proceedings, and all were awaiting her orders. Twenty jaws hung slack with astonishment - even Musa's, Mila's, and Neel's. Fire touched their minds, and was pleased, and then angry, to find them open as the glass roofs in July.

'Take hold of yourselves,' she snapped. 'It's a disguise, remember? This isn't going to work if the people meant to help me can't keep their heads.'

'It will work, Lady Granddaughter.' Tess handed Fire two knives in ankle holsters. 'You'll get what you want from whomever you want. Tonight King Nash would give you the Winged River as a present, if you asked for it. Dells, child - Prince Brigan would give you his best warhorse.

She had thought herself trapped in a place outside the ordinary feeling lives of people; she had not noticed how many other people were trapped in that same place.

Brigan threw his head back and smiled at the sky. Well said, Lady. The world may be falling to pieces, but at least the lot of us can have a bath.

The thing about learning that someone isn't who they said they were is that you start to wonder if you ever really had a relationship with them in the first place. You try to picture them, and instead, there's this empty space. The only thing you're sure of is that they were a person who lied.

I'll give you a dream," he whispered to her. "A wonderful dream. I won't tell you

I don't want to love you if you're only going to die.

He said, 'The moment I began to love you was the moment when you saw your fiddle smashed on the ground, and you turned away from me and cried against your horse. Your sadness is one of the things that makes you beautiful to me. Don't you see that? I understand it. It makes my own sadness less frightening.

She glanced up at him, and in that moment he pulled his wet shirt over his head. She forced her mind blank. Blank as a new sheet of paper, blank as a starless sky. He came to the fire and crouched before it. He rubbed the water from his bare arms and flicked it in the flames. She stared at the goose and sliced his drumstick carefully and thought of the blankest expression on the blankest face she could possibly imagine. It was a chilly evening; she thought about that. The goose would be delicious, they must eat as much of it as possible, they must not waste it; she thought about that.

Everyone wants a bit of something beautiful.

I'm suspicious of the notion of a single book that would benefit everyone to read.

Love is stupid. It has nothing to do with reason. You love whomever you love.

I hear you're supposed to be good at manipulating people. Try a little harder to make me like you, all right? I'm the queen. Your life will be nicer if I like you.

She expected the pain, when it came. But she gasped at its sharpness; it was not like any pain she had felt before. He kissed her and slowed and would have stopped. But she laughed, and said that this one time she would consent to hurt, and bleed, at his touch. He smiled into her neck and kissed her again and she moved with him through the pain. The pain became a warmth that grew. Grew, and stopped her breath. And took her breath and her pain and her mind away from her body, so that there was nothing but her body and his body and the light and fire they made together.

Brigan spun around to face the man, swearing with as much as exasperation and fury as Fire had ever heard anyone swear. The man scuttled away in alarm.

Art glows with faith even in its weakest parts. At every moment, writing is an act of self-confidence – the sheerest, most determined, most stubborn self-belief. You CAN have faith and doubt at the same time; the most insecure writer on the planet has faith that shines just as bright as her doubt, and she deserves props for that. It might be hidden deep, she might not feel it and you might not see it, but it's in there, or she wouldn't be able to write.