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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.

Kristin Cashore

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Kristin Cashore
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: June 10
Novelist
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Feel
Wished
Feels
Emptiness
Talked
Somewhere
Anymore
Lost
Preferred
Didn
Fury
Place
Settled

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I'm not going to wear a red dress, she said. It would look stunning, My Lady, she called. She spoke to the bubbles gathered on the surface of the water. If there's anyone I wish to stun at dinner, I'll hit him in the face.
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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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Please, Katsa, he finally said. At least talk to me. She swung around to face him. What it there to talk about? You know how I feel, and what I think about it. And what I feel? Doesn't it matter?
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She groped forward, hands and feet, in search of darkness, distance and solitude.
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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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I’m suspicious of the notion of a single book that would benefit everyone to read.
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Teddy grinned again. 'Truths are dangerous,' he said. -'Then why are you writing them in a book?' -'To catch them between the pages,' said Teddy, 'and trap them before they disappear.' -'If they're dangerous, why not let them disappear?' -'Because when truths disappear, they leave behind blank spaces, and that is also dangerous.
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She cried like a person whose heart is broken and wondered how, when two people loved each other, there could be such a broken heart.
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It's hard to wake from a nightmare when the nightmare is real.
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If I wanted to stun anyone at dinner, I'd hit them in the face.
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How acutely sometimes the presence or absence of people mattered
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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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I'm not good at love. I'm like a barbed creature. I push everyone I love away.
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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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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.
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If I'd been trying to kill him, he'd be dead.
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...when truths disappear, they leave behind blank spaces, and that is also dangerous.
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He made her drunk, this man made her drunk and every time his eyes flashed into hers she could not breathe.
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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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You’re crying.” “I’m not.” “Right,” he said mildly. “I suppose you got rained on.
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