Quote

In the saddle again, Fire mulled over the commander's trust, prodding it around, like a candy in her mouth, trying to decide whether she believed it.

Kristin Cashore

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Kristin Cashore
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: June 10
Novelist
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Like
Mouth
Decide
Prodding
Mouths
Saddle
Trust
Saddles
Fire
Commander
Whether
Commanders
Around
Candy
Trying
Believed

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She'd lost her fury, somewhere, as they'd talked. She didn't feel it anymore. She wished she did, because she preferred it to the emptiness that had settled in its place.
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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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It has been a hard lesson to learn, that greatness requires suffering.
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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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He thinks we're made of money.
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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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I don't want to love you if you're only going to die.
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She groped forward, hands and feet, in search of darkness, distance and solitude.
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She knew he was angry, but she couldn't stop laughing. Forgive me, Po. I was only trying to get your attention. And I suppose it never occurs to you to start small. If I told you my roof needed rebuilding, you'd start by knocking down the house.
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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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He held up a finger and went to the hallway, where he tripped over Blotchy, and then over the two monster cats madly pursuing Blotchy. Swearing, he leaned over the landing and called to the guard that unless the kingdom fell to war or his daughter was dying, he better not be interrupted until further notice.
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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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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 afraid of your own anger.
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How unjust then to meet that person you love, and be kept away from them only because ones bed is made of hay , and the other, feathers.
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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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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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Then she'll know I'll want to knock her senseless if she so much as looks at me.
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