Sharon Cameron Quotes

The people are in need of a dose of terror. They must feel that they have no choice, can effect no change, or we will have more change than we currently know how to handle.:

What if the Ancients used the number of ticks to mark the time of day, instead of the height of the sun or moon? so highmoon could happen here.." "That way highmoon is not the time; highmoon is happening at the different time every night. If you're counting the ticks as time.

So you carry needle and thread about in your pockets, do you?" Sophia asked.

"My tailor insists.

It's my choice today that is the memory of tomorrow. It's my choice that determines what I will become. Not the memories of the past.

He thought she was someone who could break the pattern of history. And he was offering to break it with her.

I think you are very beautiful," René said, "especially when you are admiring mischief."

"You must think that every time I look at you, then.

I knew full well that Lane considered himself more family than servant to my uncle, and that my uncle felt the same; the only real question was who considered himself the father and who the child.

It was because this stark world LeBlanc was trying to create was a lie; there was spectrum of color between black and white, and many, many layers of choice between yes and no.

I have lived my life so frightened of pain it's been paralyzing. I hate pain, but I hate fear more, and I've eaten fear every day of my life because of the Forgetting.

We are supposed to write the truth, for no one to see but ourselves. But how easily that truth can be twisted. Bend a little here, omit a little there, make yourself into the person you wish you were instead of the person you are. How easy to cut the truth away, to throw it in a fire, open your eyes, and have the whole world remember nothing of who you are. Nothing of what you've done. When you will not remember who you are or what you've done.

Daughter stealer.

Sometimes it is best to keep one's advantages close.

Should she pretend to like it, when she really did, all while pretending that she didn't?

Nadia," she says, very softly. I lean forward, straining to hear. Her expression has changed, drawn, as if in pain. "She's gone," she whispers. "The bed is empty."
"Who, Mother?"
"Nadia," she says again. "Her book is wrong. It's not Nadia's book." I know Mother. But it was only ever the book that was wrong. Not the daughter. Never the daughter.

Knowing the truth makes me alone. I wrote that once, but I think I was wrong. Fear of pain is what has made me alone. But today I realized that pain and love have a balance. I can feel so much of one only because I feel so much of the other.

...did not choose to print the Wesson's Guide. Because a printing press was a manchine, and machines were technology, and because technology clouded minds, weakened the will, and took away the self-reliance of the Ancients--or so their Parliament said--such dangerous items could be used only by a special license.

I was just telling your cousin I thought you were sick," she said to René. "Why, exactly, aren't you sick?"

"Such a darling," René said to the room. "And so considerate of my health. You'd have me abed all day, wouldn't you, my love?"

"Always," she replied slowly, "my love." Though the look she sent clearly added her preference that he be in an unconscious or perhaps a non-breathing state.

Handsome young men should not act as if they know it.

But who can find the truth in Canaan? Janis doesn't tell it, the Learning Room doesn't teach it. My father has twisted it, Mother half forgotten it, and the Forgetting is the thief that steals it.

Surely there was not another soul in England that could delude themselves like I could.

I put on embarrassment in the same way I put on Liliya's dress. It clings to my skin.

Warm sun and robin's-egg skies were inappropriate conditions for sending one's uncle to a lunatic asylum.

I am made of my memories.

Your maman was in my room last night."

"And I was not." His tone was glum.

Simon's baby," he said, rocking on his heels. "Simon's baby girl. But you are too many, much too many to be Simon's baby girl. How many are you?"

"Seventeen," I whispered. He was still uncomfortably close.

"Lane!" he shouted. I jumped. "Do I have a niece of seventeen?"

"Yes," came Lane's voice from the door.

The old man relaxed. "Then that is as it should be. Lane always knows when things are as they should be. Where is your father, little niece?

The past is never really gone. It only lies in wait for you, remembered or forgotten.

He tossed the potato up and down, up and down, a thin smile creeping out from the corners of his mouth.

Have you ever thought, " he said after a moment, "that perhaps...all of this could have happened before? That the people of the Time Before, no matter how weak we think them, that they were only making the mistakes of their ancesters and that we, in turn, are only making the same mistakes as them? Technology or no? That the time changes but people do not, and so we are never really moving forward, only around a bend? That the world only ever turns in circles. do you think that could be so?

She was the clock, a clock that had lost its key, unwinding in the dark.

Today I found I'm not afraid of the unknown. Today I discovered that the unknown loved me, and that I loved it back.