If this is truly the time that will decide, we have no business refusing people who feel the way we do. No right to decide that they must huddle in their homes waiting to see if they are still slaves or not when the summer ends.
He had a sense—honed by experience—that what he’d contrived might achieve something of the effect he wanted. That, Martinius had always said, was the best any man in this fallible world could expect. [p. 67]
Bright star of Eanna, forgive me the manner of this, but you are the harbor of my soul’s journeying.
[We let] the universality of fantasy, of once upon a time, allow escapist fiction to be more than just that – to also bring us home.
You have no idea how dearly I wish you were of my blood. My daughter, granddaughter. Will you allow me to take pride in what you are?”– Sandre to Catriana
Reading is a collaboration between the writer and reader. Both parties must keep that in mind when dealing with a work of fiction.”{Guy Gavriel Kay}
There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk.
By things so achingly small are lives measured and marred.
What mortal knew the way their fate line would run?
That felt strange. How sharp a rent a handful of moments made in the fabric of a life.
Tigana, let my memory ofyou be like a blade in mysoul.
We cannot know. But sometimes there is kindness, and sometimes there is love.
When I’m all grown up, come what may,I’ll build a boat to carry me away
It was different, though, knowing something in your thoughts and then hearing it confirmed, made real, planted in the world like a tree
I have been made to realize tonight that there are limits to what I wish to do or see done for any cause.
No man ever truly possesses a woman, anyhow,” said Gidas moodily. “He has her body for a time if he’s lucky, but only the most fleeting glimpse into her soul.” Gidas was a poet, or wanted to be.
She had been a solitary child, and then solitary as a woman, drawn into an orbit of her own that took her away from others, even those who would be her friends.
It can be hard to write a skillfully entertaining fiction, but a great book wants to be more, and wants more from us.
Ambitions and dreams put you at a drinking table with unexpected companions. Cups were filled and refilled, making you drunk with the illusion of changing the world.
When you didn’t say a lot, he thought, you said the important things.
It had taken skill, tact, an ability to choose friends well, and a great deal of luck… Luck was always part of it, one way or another