Robin LaFevers Quotes
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When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.
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However, there are those who deserve to die but who have not yet encountered the means to do so—we help them on their way.
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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
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I blew that clay pigeon to smithereens. I don't know why Mum got so upset. According to Uncle Andrew she's a crack shot herself. But she says I'm too young. What I'd like to know is how old does a person have to be before they get to do all the fun stuff?
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I cannot tell her I have been moping over a broken heart when I have worked so hard to convince her I have no heart at all.
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It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.
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I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.
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He barks out a laugh. "My little rebel.
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The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.
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I am a handmaiden of Death. I walk in His dark shadow and do His bidding. Serving Him is my only purpose in this life.
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... true faith never comes without anguish.
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It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
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God's Teeth,' he says. 'I was only trying to wake you. You were crying out in your sleep.' 'I was not,' I say, then look from his neck to my knife. 'When I tried to wake you, you stabbed me.' He sounds sore put out. and I cannot blame him.
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If you are not careful, soon you will have men locking themselves in dungeons so that you can rescue them.
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Tis Vanth's cage. You can just move it out of the way." "I already have," he grumbles. "With my shin.
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I never skulk, and lurk only sometimes.
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And so it is with us; we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.
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Are men truly such idiots that they cannot resist two orbs of flesh?
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It takes a surprising amount of courage to place one's hand into an unseen area when your mind is thinking about vermin.
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I stare at him coldly. "I do not care for needlework." I pause. "Unless it involves the base of the skull.
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You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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There is no shame in scars, Ismae.
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I bear a deep red stain that runs from my left shoulder down to my right hip, a trail left by the herbwitch's poison that my mother used to try to expel me from her womb.
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I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.' 'It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say. 'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.