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Betrayal would be a different sort of sick.
Robin McKinley
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Robin McKinley
Age: 71
Born: 1952
Born: November 16
Author
Novelist
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Warren
Ohio
Jennifer Carolyn Robin McKinley
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Betrayal
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More quotes by Robin McKinley
Sometimes it is better not to know. Sometimes when you do know you just fold up.
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Stay a little while longer, and let everyone congratulate you - including the ones who clearly don't want to: in fact, especially the ones who clearly don't want to. You don't have to say anything but 'thank you
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If you wish, I shall go personally to your City and knock together the heads of Perlith and Galooney.
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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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it goes something like 'There are a lot of ways to be yourself.
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Friends you will have need of, for in you two worlds meet. There is no one on both sides with you, so you must learn to take your own counsel and not to fear what is strange, if you know it also to be true. —Luthe
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One doesn't generally look into mirrors when one is especially angry one has better things to do, like pace the floor or throw things.
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Vampire. Dangerous. Unknowable. Seriously creepy. This one's name was Constantine. We'd met before.
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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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Tell me who you are. You need not tell me your name. Names have power, even human ones. Tell me where you live and what you do with your living.
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Why do you tell me... so much? Luthe considered her. I tell you... some you need to know, and some you have earned the right to know, and some it won't hurt you to know-- He stopped.... Some things I tell you only because I wish to tell them to you.
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What you describe is how it happens to everyone: magic does slide through you, and disappear, and come back later looking like something else. And I'm sorry to tell you this, but where your magic lives will always be a great dark space with scraps you fumble for. You must learn to sniff them out in the dark.
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He didn't look insane or inhuman. He did look uncooperative.
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With the knowledge of her aloneness came a rush of self-declaration: “I will not be nothing.”
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When they finished laughing they were on their way to being not just friends, but the dearest of friends, the sort of friends whose lives are shaped by the friendship.
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It is a much more straightforward thing to be a dog, and a dog's love, once given, is not reconsidered.
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It seems to me further, that it is very odd that fate should leave so careful a trail, and spend so little time preparing the one that must follow it.
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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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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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I long for another human face just as I fear it.
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