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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
Lack
Weak
Danger
Made
Strengthened
Leaned
Heavily
Desk
Desks

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I think.' she said, 'that sometimes we don't feel the things that we are. But others can feel them.
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It has been a hard lesson to learn, that greatness requires suffering.
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Love is stupid. It has nothing to do with reason. You love whomever you love.
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She would like to restrain from cruelty and receive no admiration for it.
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Alone with Giddon again, Bitterblue considered him, rather liking the mud streaks on his face. He looked like a handsome sunken rowboat.
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I don’t often know who should read what book. It’s a little bit like trying to set people up on a date - a good match is unpredictable and mysterious.
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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 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
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I’m suspicious of the notion of a single book that would benefit everyone to read.
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You’re crying.” “I’m not.” “Right,” he said mildly. “I suppose you got rained on.
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Still doing your best to ruin the horses, I see.
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And of course she understood now why her body wanted to run whenever he appeared. It was a correct instinct, for there was nothing to be got from this but sadness.
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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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It's as if when I open myself up to every perception, things create their own focus.
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The fellow who tends the greenhouse gardens? Trust me, Lady, you'd let him stake your tomatoes.
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Then she marched to the pillows and beat them mercilessly until they lay puffed out like obedient clouds.
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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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His name was Death. It was pronounced to rhyme with teeth, but Bitterblue liked to mispronounce it by accident on occassion.
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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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You cannot measure love by a scale of degrees.
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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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