Quotes from Jennifer Roberson

It's difficult admitting you're wrong. Even more difficult admitting it when you have scoffed and otherwise ridiculed the truth with blind, unremitting determination, so blithely confident in your own infallibility. But then one day -- or one night -- the truth is put into your hands, and you realize those stories and songs and legends told by Northern strangers are truths after all, and that no one has lied to you.

Pain, Rhuan decided, did not simply hurt. Pain also exhausted a person, sapped his soul, thinned his spirit. Worse, pain was tedious.

And we are made different. On the instant. What we know, what we were, is banished by that instant, razed like a castle under siege, and nothing is recognizable is left. The world is unmade.

In that instant Marian was swept up by the need to touch him, to reach out and press flesh to flesh, finger to finger; to close her hand on his arm so she could feel the warmth and vigor beneath the tunic sleeve. She wanted to know without question he was living, breathing, and hers.

Del's face was ravaged. "Tiger, please—" I shook my head. "You told me once I loved you. Maybe so. Maybe I do. But right now, with all of this, I find it very hard even to like you." Del, too shocked, said nothing. I turned the stud loose and rode.

Locksley? It was. The fall of pale hair, the set of wide shoulders, the posture of his body. Unmistakable. She knew him instantly. And knew, without knowing why, that she would always know him.

Men are fools when it comes to women. It doesn't matter how smart you are, or how shrewd, or how much experience you've had. They're all born knowing just what it takes to find a way to muddle up your head. And given the chance, they do.

You're almost never willing to agree with me; that's not what I mean. I mean the latter. You're the one who claims religion is nonsense." "I used to say the same about magic, too, and look where it got me.

Nabir nodded. "What's first?" "Footwork." "Footwork! But I learned footwork nearly two years ago!" "Didn't learn much, did you?" Then, more kindly, "Or maybe you've just forgotten." It did exactly as I expected. It shut the boy up.

We all change," I said offhandedly. "We get older, a little wiser … we learn not to judge people and things by homelands, language, gender." "Do we?" Abbu grinned. "So we do. Yes, Sandtiger, the woman is much better than I expected. But there is still much I can teach her." "Wait till she warms up." I showed him my teeth. "Better yet, wait until she sings." Abbu wasn't listening.

A horse broke through beside her, nearly knocking the mare over. At first Marian thought the horse unmounted, possibly Gisbourne's, running from the boar, because she saw no rider—and then she did see him and realized he was clad in the colors of the forest, nearly invisible, almost indistinguishable against the emerald, olive, and jade. It was the shock of white-blond hair that betrayed his identity, and the grimness of his features.

What did he do to you?" I asked her, ignoring the darkening of the bear's looming face. "Nothing," she declared, enunciating distinctly. "Do you think every man wants to get me in his bed?" "Every man who's not dead already—or gelded.

I thought briefly about rising, then considered the state of head and belly and decided staying close to the ground in an attitude of prayer, regardless of true intention, was a posture worth practicing.

I drew in a deep breath, then exhaled in satisfaction. "Smell that? That's air, bascha … good, clean air. And warm air, too . . no more frozen lungs." "No," she agreed, "no more frozen lungs … now we can breathe Southron air and have our lungs scorched.

Men are fools when it comes to women.