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He leaned heavily on the desk now, as if danger had strengthened him before and its lack now made him weak.

Kristin Cashore

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Kristin Cashore
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: June 10
Novelist
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Made
Strengthened
Leaned
Heavily
Desk
Desks
Lack
Weak
Danger

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And you may blame me for your feelings, but it isn't fair to blame me for how you've chosen to behave.
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He thinks we're made of money.
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How acutely sometimes the presence or absence of people mattered
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I don't want to love you if you're only going to die.
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I truly thought I might hurt that man, he said, very badly. I didn't know you were capable of such bad temper. Apparently I am.
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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.
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Everybody was strange. In a fit of frustration, she scratched out strange and wrote the word CRACKPOTS in big letters.
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You're good at love, she said simply, because it seemed to her that it was true. I'm not so good at love. I'm like a barbed creature. I push everyone I love away. He shrugged. I don't mind you pushing me away if it means you love me, little sister.
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You cannot measure love by a scale of degrees.
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Children are geniuses.
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And, he continued, his strange smile gleaming, as I see it, our hearts are not so different in size. I murdered my father. You murdered yours. Is that something you did with a large heart?
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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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There was no helping her tears. For they would leave Po behind… She cried into his shoulder like a child. Ashamed of herself, for it was only a parting, and Bitterblue had not wept like this even over a death. ‘Don’t be ashamed,' Po whispered. ‘Your sadness is dear to me. Don’t be frightened. I won’t die, Katsa. I won’t die, and we’ll meet again.
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Katsa didn't think a person should thank her for not causing pain. Causing joy was worthy of thanks, and causing pain worthy of disgust. Causing neither was neither, it was nothing, and nothing didn't warrant thanks.
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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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...that's how memory works ... Things disappear without your permission, then come back again without your permission.
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Your horse is named Small. Yes. Mine is named Big. -Fire and Brigan
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The only way for you to keep your mind straight is to run from those who would confuse you.
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Danzhol. The one with the marriage proposal and the objections to the town charter in central Monsea. Bacon, Bitterblue muttered. Bacon! she repeated, then carefully made her way up the spiral stairs.
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It hurt her eyes, almost, Ror City and it didn't surprise her that Po should come from a place that shone.
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