She glanced up at him, and in that moment he pulled his wet shirt over his head. She forced her mind blank. Blank as a new sheet of paper, blank as a starless sky. He came to the fire and crouched before it. He rubbed the water from his bare arms and flicked it in the flames. She stared at the goose and sliced his drumstick carefully and thought of the blankest expression on the blankest face she could possibly imagine. It was a chilly evening; she thought about that. The goose would be delicious, they must eat as much of it as possible, they must not waste it; she thought about that.
He said, ‘The moment I began to love you was the moment when you saw your fiddle smashed on the ground, and you turned away from me and cried against your horse. Your sadness is one of the things that makes you beautiful to me. Don’t you see that? I understand it. It makes my own sadness less frightening.
It was a hurting tune, resigned, a cry of heartache for all in the world that fell apart. As ash rose black against the brilliant sky, Fire's fiddle cried out for the dead, and for the living who stay behind to say goodbye.
Brigan threw his head back and smiled at the sky. "Well said, Lady. The world may be falling to pieces, but at least the lot of us can have a bath.
His last thought was that it hadn't been stupidity that had allowed his son to enchant him so easily with words. It had been love.
Brigan," she said, annoyed that he had not understood. "I’ll always be beautiful. Look at me. I have one hundred and sixty two bug bites, and has it made me any less beautiful? I’m missing two fingers and I have scars all over, but does anyone care? No! It just makes me more interesting! I’ll always be like this, stuck in this beautiful form, and you’ll have to deal with it." He seemed to sense that she expected a grave response, but for the moment, he was incapable. "I suppose it’s a burden I must bear," he said, grinning.
All right," Clara said. "We have our swordsman, so let's get moving. Brigan, could you attempt, at least, to make yourself presentable? I know this is a war, but the rest of us are trying to pretend it's a party.
He thinks we're made of money.
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.
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.
You won't even take your bow? Are you planning to throttle a moose with your bare hands, then?
I'm not such a bad fighter myself," Skye said. Po exploded with laughter. "Oh, fight him, Katsa. Please fight him. I can't imagine a more entertaining diversion.
It humbles me, but it doesn't humiliate me.
Hidden yourself in a hole and dared to burden no one with your grievous friendship? I will have friends, Katsa. I will have a life, even though I carry this burden.
Katsa watched the long grass moving around them. The wind pushed it, attacked it, struck it in one place and then another. It rose and fell and rose again. It flowed, like water.
He leaned heavily on the desk now, as if danger had strengthened him before and its lack now made him weak.
It was a strange monster, for beneath its exterior it was frightened and sickened by its own violence. It chastised itself for its savagery. And sometimes it had no heart for violence and rebelled against it utterly.
Raff, what have you done to yourself? Your hair is positively blue.
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.
I push everyone I love away." He shrugged. "I don't mind you pushing me away if it means you love me, little sister.
Art glows with faith even in its weakest parts. At every moment, writing is an act of self-confidence – the sheerest, most determined, most stubborn self-belief. You CAN have faith and doubt at the same time; the most insecure writer on the planet has faith that shines just as bright as her doubt, and she deserves props for that. It might be hidden deep, she might not feel it and you might not see it, but it’s in there, or she wouldn’t be able to write.
I truly thought I might hurt that man," he said, "very badly." "I didn't know you were capable of such bad temper." "Apparently I am.
I was doing science," Giddon said. "He threw a bean." "I was testing the impact of a bean upon water," Bann said. "That's not even a real thing." "Perhaps I'll test the impact of a bean upon your beautiful white shirt.
It's hard to wake from a nightmare when the nightmare is real.
A consciousness was like a face you saw once and forever recognized.
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