Maybe home is something we have to make, and remake, over and over.
What humans do when they're desperate is just an expression of fear. What they do when they feel safe is a better indication of whether or not you can trust them.
Truth, like beauty, is in the eyes of the beholder.
The look he gave her made her turn away for a moment. Sometimes you couldn’t look too closely at another person’s pain.
There wasn't a colloquial phrase, or curse, that went something like, "May your day be full of angry dragons" or, "May every dragon you meet today be pissed off." But, there should have been.
Trying," he said at last, "is good. It always is. But failing? Everyone fails, one time or another. It's how you deal with failure that counts, in the end. It's the successes that you're known for-but it's the failures make you what you are.
Stop judging your life only by the failures.
Hope is often bitter, but it drives us, and we cling.
It was true: hope could be unkind. You opened yourself up to the worst of wounds because you wanted to believe that something good could finally happen. But if you didn't? You missed this. This intense and prefect moment in which, while the world was almost literally going to hells all around you, hope and reality blended in a single, perfect note.
If life were fair, we would never have suffered what we suffered at all; having suffered it and survived, we're still reacting to things that don't exist anymore.
We all fail. But none of us fail all the time.
Is there anyone’s life story you don’t want to know?” “Not really.” His expression was unexpectedly serious. “Because people make a story of their lives. Gains, losses, tragedy and triumph—you can tell a lot about someone simply by what they put into each category. You can learn a lot about what you put into each category by your reaction to them. They teach you about yourself without ever intending to do it—and they teach you a lot about life.
I hate being the only mortal in a gathering full of Immortals who think killing each other cleverly is the height of good manners.
i'm never going to understand the Barrani." "You needn't sound so morose, Lord Kaylin. They are unlikely to understand you either." "Yes, but I'm unlikely to try to kill them for fun.
Kaylin is not known for her punctuality. She is known, in fact, for her lack--even by those outside of the Hawklord's command.
Lies were something you told other people to make things easier, somehow - hopefully, for them, but often more selfishly for yourself.
You are an... animal? A talking animal?" Without missing a beat, Teela said, "Of course not. She's much, much harder to train.
History is not our guide, it is not our friend. It is a passing stranger, one which shadows legend, sprinkling it with the seeds of truth.
The gods where like the weather; sometimes good, sometimes bad, and either way, always beyond her.
I'm missing something, aren't I?" "Brains", he snapped. "And survival instinct. The Hawklord's been waiting for you for three hours." "Tell him I'm dead.
Generally, I like to appear smart. I don't admit being stupid when there's any hope I'm not.
You'll be with me, won't you?" "indeed." "Then what could go wrong?" Lord Sanabalis visibly grimaced. "You clearly do not believe in angry gods.
Is this some sort of test?" "Everything that doesn't kill you is." "Mind you," he added, "surviving doesn't always mean you passed.
In youth,' he said, speaking as if from a great distance, 'we believe, and the death of belief forces us to disavow all belief. But that disavowal, time softens, and if we do not believe, we hope. Belief is easier to kill, somehow, and its death easier to bear.
Sanabalis never seemed to eat, and he deflected most of her questions about Dragon cuisine. Then again, he deflected most of her questions about Dragons, period. Which was annoying because he was one, and could in theory be authorative.
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