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And none at all has ridden at the king's side since Aerinha, goddess of honor and flame, first taught men to forge their blades. You'd think Aerinha would have had better sense.

Robin McKinley

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Robin McKinley
Age: 71
Born: 1952
Born: November 16
Author
Novelist
Writer
Warren
Ohio
Jennifer Carolyn Robin McKinley
First
Honor
Forge
Would
Side
Blades
Men
Taught
Goddess
Think
Sides
Flame
Thinking
Since
Flames
Sense
King
Better
Kings
Firsts
None
Ridden

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It was too important a matter, this talking to people, and listening to them, to do it lightly or often.
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What we can do, we must do: we must use what we are given, and we must use it the best we can, however much or little help we have for the task. What you have been given is a hard thing--a very hard thing... But my darling, what if there were no one who could do the difficult things?
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You are attempting to be logical, I suspect, and logic has little to do with government, and nothing at all to do with military administration.
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I love you. I will love you till the stars crumble, which is a less idle threat than is usual to lovers on parting.
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I've always been fascinated by the grassroots folktale level of a culture, and as a storyteller, I have to follow what seems to be leading me on.
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It doesn't matter if I'm only to be gone four days, as in this case I take six months' supply of reading material everywhere. Anyone who needs further explication of this eccentricity can find it usefully set out in the first pages of W. Somerset Maugham's story The Book-Bag.
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I found that the only way I could control this sorrow was not to think of [it] at all, which was almost as painful as the loss itself.
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Cigars should be like onions, she said, unfastening the catch and pushing back the pane. Either the whole company does, or the whole company does not.
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She fell asleep, leaning on his chest, and he edged her a little off a particularly painful bruise, leaned his head back against the tree he had propped them up against, and closed his own eyes.
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He will apologize, or I'll give him a lesson in swordplay he will not like at all.
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But it was equally clear to her that this was her fate, that she had called its name and it had come to her, and she could do nothing now but own it.
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Beauty: You called me beautiful last night. Beast: You do not believe me then? Beauty: Well - no. Any number of mirrors have told me otherwise. Beast: You will find no mirrors here, for I cannot bear them: nor any quiet water in ponds. And since I am the only one who sees you, why are you not then beautiful?
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My kind [vampires] does not surprise easily, he said. You surprised me, this morning. I have thus used up my full quota of shock and consternation for some interval. I stared at him. You made a *joke*. I have heard this kind of thing may happen.
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He looked at her rather as a man looks at a problem that he would very much prefer to do without. She supposed it was a distinction of a sort to be a harassment to a king.
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People forgot it was in the nature of people to forget, to blur boundaries, to retell stories to come out the way they wanted them to come out, to remember things as how they ought to be instead of how they were.
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Mice are terribly chatty. They will chat about anything, and if there is nothing to chat about, they will chat about having nothing to chat about. Compared to mice, robins are reserved.
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I get a little cranky with the whole business about kids not having attention spans. This reminds me of the usual business of thinking that the next generation is hopeless. Every generation has said that about every younger generation.
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But the world turns, and even legends change and somewhere there is a border, and sometime, perhaps, someone will decide to cross it, however well guarded its thorns may be.
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My capacity for invention is flash hot stark, I thought. Sucker sunshade. Disembodied radar-reconnaissance. Not to mention Bitter Chocolate Death and Killer Zebras. Pity about the rest of me.
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Then marry me. For I love you, and I do not believe there is anything so wrong with you. You are fair in my eyes and you lie fair on my heart.
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