Quote

You’re crying.” “I’m not.” “Right,” he said mildly. “I suppose you got rained on.

Kristin Cashore

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Kristin Cashore
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: June 10
Novelist
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Cry
Right
Rained
Mildly
Crying
Suppose

More quotes by Kristin Cashore

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She would like to restrain from cruelty and receive no admiration for it.
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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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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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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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People want incongruous, impossible things.
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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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My life is an apology for the life of my father.
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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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If he touches you, I'll come in and choke him to death.
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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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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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Your eyes are beautiful, he said, and she felt warm suddenly, warm in the sun that dappled through the treetops and rested on them in patches.
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I don't understand your book. Isn't every book a book of words?
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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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Normal. She wasn't normal. A girl Graced with killing, a royal thug? A girl who didn't want the husbands Randa pushed on her, perfectly handsome and thoughtful men, a girl who panicked at the thought of a baby at her breast, or clinging to her ankles.
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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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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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Your horse is named Small. Yes. Mine is named Big. -Fire and Brigan
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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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Tell me what I can do to help you feel better. Well...I always like when you kiss me... Do you? You're good at it. Well, that's lucky. Because I'll always be kissing you.
Kristin Cashore