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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.

Kristin Cashore

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Kristin Cashore
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: June 10
Novelist
Writer
Boston
Massachusetts
Cold
Eased
Tree
Bleak
Stars
Solitary
Didn
Trees
Beautiful
Burning
Thought
Loneliness
Always
Silent
Like
Creatures

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She wanted to cause him pain for taking a place in her heart she wouldn't have given him if she'd known the truth.
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You’re crying.” “I’m not.” “Right,” he said mildly. “I suppose you got rained on.
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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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Only a person with the true heart of a dictionary-writer would be lying in bed, three days after being stabbed in the gut, worrying about his P's.
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How acutely sometimes the presence or absence of people mattered
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I’m suspicious of the notion of a single book that would benefit everyone to read.
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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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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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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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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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Have you ridden over anyone you shouldn't?
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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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It's as if when I open myself up to every perception, things create their own focus.
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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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You won't even take your bow? Are you planning to throttle a moose with your bare hands, then? I've a knife in my boot, she said, and then wondered, for a moment, if she could throttle a moose with her bare hands.
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Not all people who inspire devotion are monsters.
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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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Then she'll know I'll want to knock her senseless if she so much as looks at me.
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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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He considered her seriously. Well. And that's easy, he said. My Grace will protect me from him, And I'll protect you. You'll be safe with me, Katsa.
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