Robin LaFevers Quotes
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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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When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
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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.
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I have found it is surprisingly difficult to remain sad when a cat is doing its level best to sandpaper one's cheeks.
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We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.
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You love me?' 'Yes, you great lummox. I love you.' He lets out a sigh. 'Sweet Camulos! It's about time.
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I am beginning to think that love itself is never wrong. It is what love can drive people to do that is the problem.
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You would throw away all that we have given you for a man’s love?” “Not a man’s love,” I say softly. “But Duval’s. And I would find a way to serve both my god and my heart. Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.
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You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is a well tempered blade that is the strongest.
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A kiss for luck, demoiselle?" It is a magnificent, lusty kiss and I feel nothing but deep regret that it may be his last. Just before he pulls away, he whispers in my ear. "Duval said to give you that should I get a chance. It is from him.
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It is this kindness of his that unsettles me most. I can dodge a blow or block a knife. I am impervious to poison and know a dozen ways to escape a chokehold or garrote wire. But kindness? I do not know how to defend against that.
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The body on the ground is nothing more than a shell, a husk, and I am filled with a sense of peace. Yes, I think. Yes. This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.
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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours, until Death do us part. Whatever that may mean when consorting with one of Death’s handmaidens.
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Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
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In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.
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Do you need anything before I go? I want you to return my wits, I long to say.
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I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face.
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Truly, we are the gods' own children, forged in the fire of our tortured pasts, but also blessed with unimaginable gifts.
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... then he offers me his arm. As I take it, I wonder what folly decreed that women cannot walk unassisted.
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Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.
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He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. "Who are you?" I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. "Vengeance," I say softly.
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... while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.
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If he is smart, he will run. He is not.
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Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.