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They seemed no closer to the tops of the peaks that rose before them. It was only by looking back, to the forest far below, that she knew they'd climbed.

Kristin Cashore

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Kristin Cashore
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: June 10
Novelist
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Looking
Peaks
Back
Climbed
Forest
Closer
Forests
Seemed
Rose
Knew
Tops

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Things don't ever stay the same. Natural beginnings come to natural or unnatural ends.
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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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My life is an apology for the life of my father.
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Saf keeps a vast range of bullies on hand at all times.
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Well then, Roen said briskly, are you sleeping? Yes. Come now. A mother can tell when her son lies. Are you eating? No, Brigan said gravely. I've not eaten in two months. It's a hunger strike to protest the spring flooding in the south. Gracious, Roen said, reaching for the fruit bowl. Have an apple, dear.
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If her enemies were Brigan's friends and her friends were Brigan's enemies, then the two of them could walk through the world arm in arm and never be hit by arrows 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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She didn't want to go far, just out of the trees so she could see the stars. They always eased her loneliness. She thought of them as beautiful creatures, burning and cold each solitary, and bleak, and silent like her.
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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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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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If we're to be judged by our parents and grandparents, then we all may as well impale ourselves upon jagged bits of rock.
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If I wanted to stun anyone at dinner, I'd hit them in the face.
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There are no medicines to bring a dead thing back to life.
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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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Perhaps I can stay by the fire and mend your socks and scream if I hear any strange noises.
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You won't even take your bow? Are you planning to throttle a moose with your bare hands, then?
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You're beautiful this morning, Archer said, stopping before her, kissing her nose. You're impossibly sweet in my shirt. That might be but she felt like death. She would gladly make the trade how blissful it would be to feel impossibly sweet and look like death.
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Katsa now sat calmly on the stomach of her vanquished foe. He was handsome, said said. Po moaned. Was he beat-to-a-pulp handsome, or perhaps just push-down-a-flight-of-stairs handsome? I would not push a seventy six year old man down a flight of stairs, said Katsa indignantly.
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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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How absurd it was that in all seven kingdoms, the weakest and most vulnerable of people - girls, women - went unarmed and were taught nothing of fighting, while the strong were trained to the highest reaches of their skill.
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