Quotes from Mary E. Pearson

What is magic but what we don't yet understand

There are a lot of memories we imagine. We play them over and over in our minds, trying to orchestrate our movements and words to perfection. Or maybe it's just that I've lived inside of my head more than any other person in the history of the world. Maybe none of us can really predict how we will act at any give moment. Maybe we're all at the mercy of circumstance in spite of our well-laid plans.

I hated that I found him—appealing. Not just his appearance, but the confidence of his strides, the calculations in his gaze, his cockiness, his damned voice. I hated the ridiculous flip-flop my stomach did just now when I caught him looking at me.

From the loins of Morrighan, Hope will be born. On its heels came a whispered name that was always just beyond my reach, not yet mine to hear, but I knew that one day my children's children or the ones who came after would hear it. One day hope would have a name.

Words, Kaden. Only lost unsaid words that added up to good-bye.

Pieces" Isn't that what all of life is anyway? Shards. Bits. Moments. Am I less because I have fewer, or do the few I have mean more? Am I just as full as anyone else? Enough? Pieces. Allys saying "I like you" Gabriel snorting out bread freeing me to laugh. And Ethan reminding me how much I do know. Pieces. I hold them likethey are life itself. They nearly are.

The old men shall dream dreams, The young maids will see visions, The beast of the forest will turn away, They will see the child of misery coming, And make clear the path. —Song of Venda

He believes me. But that is nothing new. He always did because I was a rule follower. I played by the rules he understood. But there are new rules now, ones he doesn't know yet. He'll learn. Just as I'm learning.

Did he even know what love was? For that matter, did I? Even my parents didn't seem to know. I crossed my arms behind my head as a pillow. Maybe there was no one way to define it. Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky.

I was afraid of all the lost choices I would never be able to make, and that for the rest of my life someone would always be telling me what to do or say or think, even when I had better ideas of my own. I was afraid of never being anything but what suited others and being pushed and prodded until I fit the mold they shoved me into and I forgot who I was and what I wanted.

I love you," I cried, even as I choked on water. If there were to be last words he heard from me, I wanted it to be those. And then I felt us sliding, tumbling, the world turning upside down, and I lost sight of him, lost sight of everything,

Zsu viktara. Stand strong.

it is amazin, she thinks, how simple appearances can be created - a rush, a smile, a new coat of paint, a slow, calm voice, a hug, a new dress - a resolve to keep out questions and cling to secrets

I continued to shower, in no hurry to join back up with the guards who waited for me. I wondered when and if I would see Lia again. Rafe wouldn't make it easy, especially now that he was— I shoved my head back under the water. I hadn't even gotten used to the idea of him being a prince, and now he was a blazing king.

Gold pleases men, but blood serves the gods, because in the end, your life is all you have to give.

The seed of the gift may come, but a seedling that isn't nourished dies quickly.

But when I turned a chill caressed me—Go—a voice crawled up my spine—Leave—a finger turned my jaw—Hurry—and then there was a rushed blur of voices, hands, faces, running through the hall—Shhh, this way, run, don't say a word. Death strode among them, glanced at me, but this time he didn't smile. He wept. His arms were full and he could carry no more.

It's awkward, isn't it?" he said. "What's that?" I replied, my voice far too breathy. "These moments when we're not hating each other.

This life was a dream of my own making, one where my imagination was my only boundary. It was a life that I alone commanded.

One day he gave me a handful of sky when he saw me gazing up at the clouds, just to see me smile. I put it in my pocket.

They'll pay for this. All of it. I promise. One day they'll pay.

From the seed of the thief The Dragon will rise, the gluttonous one, feeding on the blood of babes, Drinking the tears of mothers. —Song of Venda

Maybe there were as many shades of love as the blues of the sky.

The magic of the wishes, of course, was simply in making them, fishing deep for a hidden desire, molding it into words to make it real, and tossing it into a mysterious unknown that you believed was maybe, just maybe, listening.