Life Is Too Hard For Me Quotes

To hell with your money
No no come on I belong to the family now see I know how it is with a young fellow he has lots of private affairs it's always pretty hard to get the old man to stump up for I know haven't I been there and not so long ago either but now I'm getting married and all specially up there come on don't be a fool listen when we get a chance for a real talk I want to tell you about a little widow over in town
I've heard that too keep your damned money
Call it a loan then just shut your eyes a minute and you'll be fifty
Keep your hands off of me you'd better get that cigar off the mantel ~ William Faulkner

Writing is too goddamned hard for me to think about a soul in teh world ... I don't think about a soul, but just try to get those goddamned characters to act right. ~ Ernest J. Gaines

Sweet Grace amazes me
The way that she can see
Beyond the man I am
To the man that I could be
She's bringing out my best
While she covers all the rest
Some say her love is blind
But I say her love forgets

She don't like it when I try so hard to impress her
'Cause when I do that, it's a lie that makes her love look the lesser
The truth is I know

I'll never be, I'll never be good enough
I'll never deserve her love
I'll never be, I'll never be good enough for Grace
But she takes me anyway

I am the cheatin' kind
But she's changing my mind
The way she takes me back
Though I fail her every time
She's got friends who tell her that she
Is much too good for me
Well, I've told her that myself
But she refuses to leave

I'd like to think my strength won her affection
But the truth is it was my weakness that caught her attention
I'm grateful to know

When my tears fall down like rain
She wipes them from my face
She tells me that I'm lovely
And if I am, it's all because of Grace
This love turns my inside out
And my world upside down
Grace is changing me ~ Jason Gray

Ella."
The sound was so quiet, I barely heard it through the blood-rush in my ears. I turned to look down the hallway.
A man was coming toward me, his lean form clad in a pair of baggy scrub pants and a loose T-shirt. His arm was bandaged with silver-gray burn wrap.
I knew the set of those shoulders, the way he moved.
Jack.
My eyes blurred, and I felt my pulse escalate to a painful throbbing. I began to shake from the effects of trying to encompass too much feeling, too fast.
"Is it you?" I choked.
"Yes. Yes. God, Ella . . ."
I was breaking down, every breath shattering. I gripped my elbows with my hands, crying harder as Jack drew closer. I couldn't move. I was terrified that I was hallucinating, conjuring an image of what I wanted most, that if I reached out I would find nothing but empty space. But Jack was there, solid and real, reaching around me with hard, strong arms. The contact with him was electrifying. I flattened against him, unable to get close enough.
He murmured as I sobbed against his chest. "Ella . . . sweetheart, it's all right. Don't cry. Don't . . ."
But the relief of touching him, being close to him, had caused me to unravel. Not too late. The thought spurred a rush of euphoria. Jack was alive, and whole, and I would take nothing for granted ever again. I fumbled beneath the hem of his T-shirt and found the warm skin of his back. My fingertips encountered the edge of another bandage. He kept his ~ Lisa Kleypas

The auctioneer turned to face her. He raised his knife again. Kestrel had just enough time to remember the sound of a hammer against anvil, to think of all the weapons Arin had forged, and to realize that if he had wanted to make more on the side it wouldn't have been heard.
The auctioneer advanced on her.
Not hard at all.
"No," said Arin. "She's mine."
The man paused. "What?"
Arin strolled toward them, stepping in the housekeeper's blood. He stood next to the auctioneer, his stance loose and careless. "She's mine. My prize. Payment for services rendered. A spoil of war." Arin shrugged. "Call her what you like. Call her my slave."
Shame poured into Kestrel, as poisonous as anything her friends must have drunk at the ball.
Slowly, the auctioneer said, "I'm a little worried about you, Arin. I think you've lost clarity on the situation."
"Is there something wrong with treating her the way she treated me?"
"No, but--"
"The Valorian army will return. She's the general's daughter. She's too valuable to waste."
The auctioneer sheathed his knife, but Kestrel couldn't sheathe her dread. This sudden alternative to death didn't seem like a better one.
"Just remember what happened to your parents," the auctioneer told Arin. "Remember what Valorian soldiers did to your sister."
Arin's gaze cut to Kestrel. "I do."
"Really? Where were you during the assault on the estate? I expected to find my second-in-command here. Inst ~ Marie Rutkoski

I grew up Catholic, so I have these defenses about listening to anything with too much religiosity; some of the lyrics didn't sit well in my mouth. One of my beefs is the patriarchal setup. Having the 'he, he, he, God, God, God, king, king, king' stuff was hard for me. ~ Patty Griffin

Evolution endowed us with intuition only for those aspects of physics that had survival value for our distant ancestors, such as the parabolic orbits of flying rocks (explaining our penchant for baseball). A cavewoman thinking too hard about what matter is ultimately made of might fail to notice the tiger sneaking up behind and get cleaned right out of the gene pool. Darwin's theory thus makes the testable prediction that whenever we use technology to glimpse reality beyond the human scale, our evolved intuition should break down. We've repeatedly tested this prediction, and the results overwhelmingly support Darwin. At high speeds, Einstein realized that time slows down, and curmudgeons on the Swedish Nobel committee found this so weird that they refused to give him the Nobel Prize for his relativity theory. At low temperatures, liquid helium can flow upward. At high temperatures, colliding particles change identity; to me, an electron colliding with a positron and turning into a Z-boson feels about as intuitive as two colliding cars turning into a cruise ship. On microscopic scales, particles schizophrenically appear in two places at once, leading to the quantum conundrums mentioned above. On astronomically large scales… weirdness strikes again: if you intuitively understand all aspects of black holes [then you] should immediately put down this book and publish your findings before someone scoops you on the Nobel Prize for quantum gravity… [also,] the leading theory for wha ~ Max Tegmark

I believe in women uplifting other women. The only thing that makes our gender weaker, is the fact that we are the gender less likely to stand up for the other. We are the gender more likely to try and make another look bad, and when one of us is already bad, instead of being kind, we pound them into the ditches. And that's what makes us weak, nothing else. If we can change this, we can change the whole structure of our being female, I truly believe this. Personally, I grew up admiring other women and wanting to be friends with them, but unfortunately, I learned the hard way that they were the ones who would hurt me. Women hurt other women all too often, and that's a fact. I'd like to see not just us not hurting one another; but us actually making a conscious effort to be happy for another when she is happy, to hope the best for another when she has better, and to lift another up when she is down. We know that so many of us are harsh, cold and selfish, and we try to protect ourselves from one another, that's the reality. But it's also a reality that what is real can change. So that means we can change it. ~ C. JoyBell C.

Thank you, Liam." His almost innocent gesture is so tender it makes me shudder. I have to blink a few times to remind myself this is a job. Thinking about emotions is pointless. "You're welcome." I give him my most charming beam and a wink. "Book me again if you had a good time, yeah?" His grin makes the crow's feet that are just appearing at the corners of his eyes more obvious. I like them on the man, though. I don't think I have a type, but a 'daddy' is definitely not one I'd normally go for. But then, he's probably only ten, fifteen years older than me. Hell, shut up, Liam. Quit over-analysing. It's not like this hot guy is going to be interested in you beyond paid-for sex. I'm probably horny, missing a lover or a regular fuck buddy who would be better than nobody. I miss one person most but he's gone, found his true love and he's doing well. I am happy for him despite the ache inside me when I think back to the hard times I shared with Sasha and the love I felt for him. Some days I wish I could turn back the clock. By the time I told Sasha I loved him, it was too late, but regrets are a luxury for someone like me. ~ A. Zukowski

Well all right then. Since you own up you ain't smart enough tuh find out whut Ah'm talkin' 'bout, Ah'll tell you. Whut is it dat keeps uh man from gettin' burnt on uh red-hot stove - caution or nature?" "Shucks! Ah thought you had somethin' hard tuh ast me. Walter kin tell yuh dat." "If de conversation is too deep for yuh, how come yuh don't tell me so, and hush up? ~ Zora Neale Hurston

Surely you would have expected no less of a Roma. We take what we want. If a Roma desires a woman, he steals her for himself. Sometimes right out of her bed." Even in the darkness he could see the rich renewal of her blush.
"You just said you would never hurt me."
"If I carried you away with me ... " The idea of it, her soft, struggling weight in his arms, sent his blood surging. He was caught by the primitive appeal of it, all reason crushed beneath the thumping heat of desire. "The last thing on my mind would be hurting you."
"You would never do such a thing." She was trying very hard to sound matter-of-fact. "We both know you're too civilized."
"Do we? Believe me, the issue of my civility is entirely open to question. ~ Lisa Kleypas

So where are they now? Your friends, I mean? You're always telling me about your friends and how you would do anything for them because they are your friends and how in return, they would die for you. I didn't believe it then and I'm not believing it now. All of your friends have gone. The good people, YOUR people, that's what you would call them. It was hard to keep from laughing in your face when you talked like that. I always wondered if that's what you thought I was to you, if I was one of YOUR people. You're so full of shit and now it's even too deep for you to deal with. The truth is that you don't have any friends, not now, not ever. You think you're with someone and then you find that you're just alone in a room with a stranger. You spent so much time running away from yourself, fulfilling imaginary duties to your friends, that you don't even know who you are. When the shit comes down, you can't even count on yourself. Isn't that a shame. Get ready for one of the longest nights ever. ~ Henry Rollins

But I learned more than you know from Owen Paris. I learned that trying to live up to imagined expectations is a waste of energy. I learned that nothing can replace the time I spend with my daughter every day. I learned much too late that his way of loving me was just his way. I learned too late that he loved me at all. He chose his career over his children. He left us with you, and you are a great mom. But every day he wasn't there was another day I spent wondering what I had done wrong and why he didn't care enough to be with me. "My children are never going to wonder that. I'm going to be there for every birthday, every school assembly, every science fair, every bad grade, every fight on the playground, every good-night kiss, every messy, hard, frustrating, perfect moment of it. ~ Kirsten Beyer

Who's your friend?"
I practically leaped into the air and spun around to see that Kate had walked up behind me. I slapped the back of my hand against Marcus's chest, hard enough to force him back a step. "This is Marcus. Ignore him. He's a bad seed."
As she checked him out, that growing smile of hers told me she was up to no good. She held out a hand for him to take. "Hi. I'm Kate. I'm a bad seed, too. ~ Courtney Allison Moulton

...suddenly I was afraid of what Father would say. Afraid he would say, "There'll be someone else soon," and that forever afterward this untruth would lie between us. For in some deep part of me I knew already that there would not--soon or ever--be anyone else.

The sweet cigar-smell came into the room with Father. And of course he did not say the false, idle words.

"Corrie," he began instead, "do you know what hurts so very much? It's love. Love is the strongest force in the world, and when it is blocked that means pain.

"There are two things we can do when this happens. We can kill the love so that it stops hurting. But then of course part of us dies, too. Or, Corrie, we can ask God to open up another route for that love to travel.

"God loves Karel--even more than you do--and if you ask Him, He will give you His love for this man, a love nothing can prevent, nothing destroy. Whenever we cannot love in the old, human way, Corrie, God can give us his perfect way."

I did not know, as I listened to Father's footsteps winding back down the stairs, that he had given me more than the key to this hard moment. I did not know that he had put into my hands the secret that would open far darker rooms than this--places where there was not, on a human level, anything to love at all. ~ Corrie Ten Boom

Thank you, Tempest, for loving me when understanding was too hard. Thank you for understanding when loving me is impossible. ~ Tracy Deebs

And she says..."
I'd been fighting a losing battle with yawning for a while. I was failing fast. "I have no idea.'I'm in love with someone else'?"
Nonna snorted hard enough to shake the mattress. "With who? There is no one else like Michelangelo. He is king of the sea! In love with someone else. Pah."
"Okay.Fine.Tell me what she said."
"Nonna leaned toward me, eyes bright. "She says, 'You do not see me.' And my bisnonno, he says, 'Of course I see you! Every day I see you by the seawall. I see you in my mind, too, in pearls and furs and silks. So, here,here I offer you these things.' And she says..."
"Thank you?"
"Per carita!"
"'No,thank you?'"
"Ah,Fiorella. I think you are not the child of my child! Rifletti. Use that good brain."
"Nonna..."
"She says, 'You do not see me!' And she sends him away."
I wasn't sure I was getting the point. Here's an ordinary girl in ratty clothes who's going to end up a nun if she doesn't get married. Along comes a decent guy with money, promising to take her away from it all...Wasn't that where is usually faded to Happily Ever After? ~ Melissa Jensen

You only know me as an ordinary human being, with flesh, blood and bones, but there is something about me too hard for you to decipher, for if i let you, you will ever regret knowing me. ~ Michael Bassey Johnson

He needs to be talked to."
"This is funny, but I know how to talk, too."
Brian swore under his breath. "He prefers singing."
"Excuse me?"
"I said,he prefers singing."
"Oh." Keeley tucked her tongue in her cheek. "Any particular tune? Wait, let me guess. Finnegan's Wake?" Brian's steely-eyed stare had her laughing until she had to lean weakly against the gelding.The horse responded by twisting his head and trying to sniff her pockets for apples.
"It's a quick tune," Brian said coolly, "and he likes hearing his name."
"I know the chorus." Gamely Keeley struggled to swallow another giggle. "But I'm not sure I know all the words.There are several verses as I recall."
"Do the best you can," he muttered and strode off.His lips twitched as he heard her launch into the song about the Dubliner who had a tippling way.
When he reached Betty's box, he shook his head. "I should've known. If there's not a Grant one place, there's a Grant in another until you're tripping over them."
Travis gave Betty a last pat on the shoulder. "Is that Keeley I hear singing?"
"She's being sarcastic, but as long as the job's done. She's dug in her heels about grooming Finnegan."
"She comes by it naturally.The hard head as well as the skill."
"Never had so many owners breathing down my neck.We don't need them, do we, darling?" Brian laid his hands on Beetty's cheek, and she shook her head, then nibbled his hair.
"Damn horse has a crush on ~ Nora Roberts

He was about to pocket a list of local sanitariums when he heard "Traitor," and saw Mickey and Herman Gerstein standing a few feet away. Cohen with a clean shot, but a half dozen witnesses spoiling his chance. Buzz said, "I suppose this means my guard gig's kaput. Huh, Mick?" The man looked hurt as much as he looked mad. "Goyishe shitheel traitor. Cocksucker. Communist. How much money did I give you? How much money did I set up for you that you should do me like you did?" Buzz said, "Too much, Mick." "That is no smart answer, you fuck. You should beg. You should beg that I don't do you slow." "Would it help?" "No." "There you go, boss." Mickey said, "Herman, leave this room"; Gerstein exited. The typers kept typing and the clerks kept clerking. Buzz gave the little hump's cage a rattle. "No hard feelin's, huh?" Mickey said, "I will make you a deal, because when I say "deal," it is always to trust. Right?" "Trust" and "deal" were the man's bond-it was why he went with him instead of Siegel or Dragna. "Sure, Mick." "Send Audrey back to me and I will not hurt a hair on her head and I will not do you slow. Do you trust my word?" "Yes." "Do you trust I'll get you?" "You're the oddson favorite, boss." "Then be smart and do it." "No deal. Take care, Jewboy. I'll miss you. I really will. ~ James Ellroy

Yestereve I saw philosophers in the market-place carrying their heads in baskets, and crying aloud, "Wisdom! Wisdom for sale!"
Poor philosophers! They must needs sell their heads to feed their hearts. Said a philosopher to a street sweeper, "I pity you. Yours is a hard and dirty task."
And the street sweeper said, "Thank you, sir. But tell me what is your task?"
And the philosopher answered saying, "I study man's mind, his deeds and his desires."
Then the street sweeper went on with his sweeping and said with a smile, "I pity you too. ~ Kahlil Gibran

All I can see when I look at him is a belt swinging toward Tobias, and the butt of a gun slamming into Caleb's jaw. I don't care that he hurt Caleb
I would have done it, too
but that he is simultaneously a man who knows how to hurt people and a man who parades around as the self-effacing leader of Abnegation, suddenly makes me so angry I can't see straight.
Especially because I chose him. I chose him over Tobias.
"Your brother is a traitor," says Marcus as we turn a corner. "He deserved worse. There's no need to look at me that way."
"Shut up!" I shout, shoving him hard into the wall. He is too surprised to push back. "I hate you, you know that! I hate you for what you did to him, and I am not talking about Caleb." I lean close to his face and whisper, "And while I may not shoot you myself, I will definitely not help you if someone tries to kill you, so you'd better hope to God we don't get into that situation. ~ Veronica Roth

I have always felt that putting emotions into words was an exercise in futility, they're often more complex than words can manage and it seems often impossible. And like an injustice to the emotions, like I will never have explained them well enough and it will just feel incomplete and wrong. Also I'm pretty sure you made me do this before heh.

All of that said, I shall do my best to manage this. You are incredibly passionate. Straightforward. Funny. I feel like such a god damn idiot spouting random adjectives but I don't know what else to do. O.O You are those things though and I love them. You see the world in a way I feel I can understand at least somewhat, a way many don't. You embrace things others try to stifle. You aren't ashamed of being yourself and yourself is wonderful. Kind and compassionate. You sure helped me and I think I helped you too, we connected on some issues even if our issues weren't the same. We... ugh, I can't do it, I can't distill something as complex, intricate, beautiful, amazing as YOU into mere words. But you are who you are and you stole my heart and I don't mind. I like it. I love you. Can't go wrong with someone that loves music and wants to have lotr snuggle fests!

I'm here darlingness. I just kept trying and trying to find the right words. It's difficult. NOT because I have anything less than the utmost massive lovelberry tree gem pie for you. It's just... emotions, y'know? They're hard to explain. o.o ~ Devouree

He loves me so he hurts me
To try and make me good.
It doesn't work. I'm just too bad
And don't do what I should.

My memory has so many different sections and, like all survivors, there are so many compartments with so many triggers. I'll remember a smell which reminds me of a man which reminds me of a place which reminds me of another man who I think was with a woman who had a certain smell - and I'm back to square one. This is the case for most survivors, I believe. When we try to put together our pasts, the triggers are many and varied, the memories are disjointed - and why wouldn't they be? We were children. Even someone with an idyllic childhood who is only trying to remember the lovely things which happened to them will scratch their head and wonder who gave them that doll and was it for Christmas or their third birthday? Did they have a party when they were four or five? When did they go on a plane for the first time? You see, even happy memories are hard to piece together - so imagine how hard it is to collate all of the trauma, to pull together all of the things I've been trying to push away for so many years. ~ Laurie Matthew

My parents have always worried that I'd take Amy too personally - they always tell not to read too much into her, And yet I can't fail to notice that whenever I screw something up, Amy does it right: When I finally quit violin at age twelve, Amy was revealed as a prodigy in the next book. ("Sheesh, violin can be hard work, but handwork is the only way to get better!") When I blew off the junior championship at age sixteen to do a beach weekend with friends, Amy recommitted to the game. ("Sheesh, I know it's fun to spend time with friends, but I'd be letting myself and everyone else down if I didn't show up for the tournament.") This used to drive me mad, but after I wend off to Harvard (and Amy correct those my parents' alma mater), I decided it was all too ridiculous to think about. That my parents, two child psychologists, chose this particular public form of passive-aggressiveness toward their child was not just fucked up but also stupid and weird and kind of hilarious. ~ Gillian Flynn

Burnett let out a low growl and motioned for the agent to leave. Then he glanced back at Miranda. "How were you able to pull this off?"
Miranda shrugged. "I don't know." The girl's green eyes grew a sheen of tears. "They were going to hurt Della and Kylie. I panicked and just did it."
Della found her chest filling up with warmth. Kylie reached over and held Miranda's hand.
"And you did a great job," Kylie said. "I'm so proud of you."
"Me, too," Della added.
"Group hug," Miranda said, holding out her arms.
"No damn hugs!" Burnett snapped. "You can undo it, right?" he asked.
"I'm pretty sure I can."
"Oh, hell!" He raked a hand over his face. "Try to do it. Try really hard. I don't think our jail is set up to house kangaroos. ~ C.C. Hunter

Ohh,' said the girl with a sad tilt of her head.
It was a response Sejal would hear a lot in the following weeks and which she would eventully come to understand meant, 'Ohh, India, that must be so hard for you, and I know because I read this book over the summer called The Fig Tree (which is actually set in Pakistan but I don't realize there's a difference) about a girl whose parents sell her to a sandal maker because everyone's poor and they don't care about girls there, and I bet that's why you're in our country even, and now everyone's probably being mean to you just because of 9/11, but not me although I'll still be watching you a little too closely on the bus later because what if you're just here to kill Americans?'
There was a lot of information encoded in that one vowel sound, so Sejal missed most of it at first. ~ Adam Rex

They way I walk now
you'd have a hard time recognising me,
on these streets
where I once imagined walking with you.
Hand in hand,
like we always did,
and it never mattered where we were going
because it was all just fine.
I was always fine.
But they rest restlessly in my pockets now,
in a new town,
on these new streets,
and it's heavy to stay standing
for my body is half the size
when you're gone
and these buildings are tall and old and beautiful
and I wonder what secrets they hold.
How to stand so proud after so many years
because I'm still young but I feel worn
and I get through the days on too much caffeine and mood altering chemicals
to stay awake long enough to make the poetry come alive.
I fall asleep on the floor with the music still playing
when my neighbour leaves for the office
and I'm jealous.
I wonder what it's like to go outside and know where to go,
know where you want to end up
and just simply go there.
I've been making lists of things I want to do,
where to go
and who to be,
now that you're gone,
and it's nice and all,
it's just …
I'd rather write it with you,
and go there with you.
Be things
with you.

There were days when I still put on make up
in case you'd come back,
but I wear the same clothes and shower in the rain,
eat when I can and sleep when I can ~ Charlotte Eriksson

What if - " I stopped, swallowing hard. Nope. I couldn't even say it aloud. We'd figure something else out because we had to. Time for a subject change before I lost it. "What did your mom say?"
"Mostly that she thinks my hair is getting too long and I should cut it."
"That's not helpful."
"That's my mom for you." He was trying for humor but his voice caught, and I wondered if he was thinking about how if she left and he didn't, he'd never ever see her again.
"So," I said, sitting on the floor against the wall as close to the kitchen doorway as I could get without Lend dropping like a rock, "do you want your Christmas present?"
"You got me something?" He sounded surprised.
"I've been working on it for a while."
"I, uh, didn't find you anything yet. I was actually setting up for your party, not Christmas shopping like I said."
"Being kidnapped by the Dark Queen and then cursed gets you off the hook for a lot. Besides, my birthday party totally counted."
"This isn't how I wanted our first Christmas to go. We were going to go all out, pick out a Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, decorate it, watch cheesy holiday movies, drink hot chocolate, let my dad make his eggnog and then complain about how disgusting it was, then I was going to deck out my entire room in mistletoe . . ."
"Wait, you mean you didn't plan for us to be stuck in different rooms for the holidays?"
"Well, that part's kind of nice." I heard his head bang against ~ Kiersten White

I always wondered what your type was, but I never imagined it would be a hard-core rocker!"
Here we go. I had been hoping he'd be too sleepy for this conversation.
"He's not my type. If I had a type it would be...nice. Not some hotheaded, egocentric male slut."
"Did you just call him a male slut?" Jay laughed. "Dang, that's, like, the worst language I've ever heard you use."
I glowered at him, feeling ashamed, and he laughed even harder.
"Oh, hey, I've got a joke for you. What do you call someone who hangs out with musicians?"
He raised his eyebrows and I shrugged. "I don't know. What?"
"A drummer!" I shook my head while he cracked up at his joke for another minute before hounding me again about Kaidan. "All right, so you talked about my CDs, you had some cultural confusion with some of his lingo, then you talked about hot dogs? That can't be everything. You looked seriously intense."
"That's because he was intense, even though we weren't really talking about anything. He made me nervous."
"You thought he was hot, didn't you?"
I stared out my window at the passing trees and houses. We were almost to school.
"I knew it!" He smacked the steering wheel, loving every second of my discomfort. "This is so weird. Anna Whitt has a crush."
"Fine, yes. He was hot. But it doesn't matter, because there's something about him I don't like. I can't explain it. He's...scary."
"He's not the boy next door, if that's what you mean ~ Wendy Higgins

Alto (saxophone) is just a very hard instrument; there's so few people that play it really well. I feel it's the best one, too, now. At first I didn't feel that way; I wanted to be a tenor player. It took a long time for me to feel that alto was the most expressive of the saxophones. ~ Art Pepper

The same source that tipped us off about her and Wu at Kvarnen says that she used to hang out with a bunch of girls there a while back. Some kind of girl band called Evil Fingers."
"Evil fingers?" Bublanski repeated.
"Seems to be something occult."
"Don't tell me Salander is some damned Satanist too," Bublanski said. "The media are going to go nuts."
"Lesbian Satanists," Faste said helpfully.
"Hans, you've got a view of women from the Middle Ages," Modig said. "Even I've heard of Evil Fingers."
"You have?" Bublanski said.
"It was a girl rock band in the late nineties. No superstars, but they were pretty famous for a while."
"So hard-rocking lesbian Satanists," Faste said. ~ Stieg Larsson

Quince leans in over the map, studying, and I think he's going to ask me something about the kingdoms or my plan or Daddy's trident.
Instead, without taking his eyes off the map, he asks, "What happens if I fail?"

"What?" I whisper.

"If I don't pass the three tests," he says. "What's the consequence?"

I suck in a shaky breath. This is the part I didn't want to talk about, the part I hoped he wouldn't ask about. But I guess he's too clever - or has learned too much about how mer-world magic works - to assume there won't be a price.

There is, and it's a big one.

"If you fail," I say, keeping my voice steady, "then you are banished from the water forever."

He lifts his Caribbean-blue eyes to stare into mine. "And?"

"And?" I echo.

"I know that can't be it," he says. "Nothing in your world is ever that simple."

A part of my heart breaks when he calls it my world. I want it to feel like his world, too. But now isn't the time. He's right; there's more to the consequence of failure than him being exiled.

"And . . . ," I say, wishing I didn't have to tell him this, "I'll be banished from land." I swallow hard. "Forever."

He stares into my eyes, unblinking, and I can't read any sort of reaction. His mind is racing, I'm sure, but everything on the outside is a stone facade.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, he says, "Then I won't fail. ~ Tera Lynn Childs