Kristin Cashore

Everyone wants a little bit of something beautiful.

Are you determined to leave me in this world to live without my heart?_ Archer asked. __ecause that__ what you very nearly did.

Her fingers flew, her fiddle was an entire orchestra, and every note beautifully brought into being struck a chord of satisfaction within her. She wondered at the unfamiliar lightness in her chest and realised she was laughing. So great was her focus, it took her a while to register the strange expression that crept to Brocker's face as he listened, finger tapping the armrest of his chair. His eyes were fixed behind Fire and to the right, in the direction of Archer's back doorway. Fire comprehended that someone must be standing in Archer's entrance, someone Brocker watched with startled eyes. And then everything happened at once. Fire recognised the mind in the doorway; she spun around, fiddle and bow screeching apart; she stared at Prince Brigan leaning against the door frame.

There isn't a simple person anywhere in this world.

If she was suggesting she was too wise with the weight of her experience to fall prey to infatuation - well, the disproof was sitting before her in the form of a gray-eyed prince with a thoughtful set to his mouth that she found quite distracting.__ire, Kristin Cashore__f she was suggesting she was too wise with the weight of her experience to fall prey to infatuation - well, the disproof was sitting before her in the form of a gray-eyed prince with a thoughtful set to his mouth that she found quite distracting.

Things don't ever stay the same. Natural beginnings come to natural or unnatural ends.

You cannot measure love by a scale of degrees.

People want incongruous, impossible things.

Circumstances don't always align themselves with human intention.

He held up a finger and went to the hallway, where he tripped over Blotchy, and then over the two monster cats madly pursuing Blotchy. Swearing, he leaned over the landing and called to the guard that unless the kingdom fell to war or his daughter was dying, he better not be interrupted until further notice.

Well. I always like it when you kiss me.Do you?You're good at it.Well, that's lucky, because I'll always be kissing you.

Not all sons were like their fathers. A son chose the man he would be.Not all daughters were like their fathers. A daughter monster chose the monster she would be.

Great! He has indigestion, so let's torture him with cake.

Fire supposed he needed to be there in order to give rousing speeches and lead the charge into the fray, or whatever is was commanders did in wartime. She resented his competence at something so tragic and senseless. She wished he, or somebody, would throw down his sword and say, 'Enough! This is a silly way to decide who's in charge!' And it seemed to her, as the beds in the healing room filled and emptied and filled, that these battles didn't leave much to be in charge of. The kingdom was already broken, and this war was tearing the broken pieces smaller.

For most of the process, nothing but faith, fueled by your own stubbornness, will be pulling you along. The work that you've done on the book so far won't be much comfort, because so much of it will be insufferable crap, until the very last moment, when you figure out how to fix it and everything comes together.

She would thump them both, and she would apologize to neither.

Everyone was willing to take some small risk to lessen the damage of their ambition and disorder and lawlessness.

If we're to be judged by our parents and grandparents, then we all may as well impale ourselves upon bits of rock.