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

Kristin Cashore

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Kristin Cashore
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: June 10
Novelist
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Feet
Hands
Groped
Search
Solitude
Distance
Forward
Darkness

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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.
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Mercy was more frightening than murder, because it was harder.
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His last thought was that it hadn't been stupidity that had allowed his son to enchant him so easily with words. It had been love.
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If I'd been trying to kill him, he'd be dead.
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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.
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When a monster stopped behaving like a monster, did it stop being a monster? Did it become something else?
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Not all people who inspire devotion are monsters.
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Fire sat unbreathing. A life that was an apology for the life of his father: It was a notion she could understand, beyond words and thought. She understood it the way she understood music.
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I've always been led to believe that the ultimate goal for an author is the movie deal. Now I understand that the movie deal is merely a MEANS TO A MUCH HIGHER END: NAIL POLISH.
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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.
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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
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Mercy was more frightening than murder, because it was harder, and Randa didn't deserve it. And even though she wanted what the voice wanted, she didn't think she had the courage for it.
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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.
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Wonderful, Garan grumbled when he'd gone. We'll grow a reputation for our kindness to lawbreakers.
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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.
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You won't even take your bow? Are you planning to throttle a moose with your bare hands, then? I've a knife in my boot, she said, and then wondered, for a moment, if she could throttle a moose with her bare hands.
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