Quotes from Frances Hardinge

Her moment came. Nobody was looking. She sidled quickly across the deck and lost herself among the crates that clustered at the base of the boat's shuddering, discoloured funnel. The air tasted of salt and guilt, and she felt alive.

Still water wasn't cruel and wasn't kind. It didn't care whether you swam or drowned.

you only had to provide part of a lie. You could rely on other people's imaginations to fill the gaps.

Worlds ended sometimes.

It is a very terrible thing to be far smaller than one's rage.

No, not like me. He's no better than the other Fellmottes. Another rich man bent on what he thinks the world owes him, and willing to pay any price, as long as it's in the blood of others.

It was not the first time Faith had been alone with the dead of course. She had watched five younger brothers wane, felt the trusting pressure of their small hands in hers. And later, each time, she had done her part in keeping watch over the body for the wake. There always needed to be somebody watching over the newly dead, just in case they turned out not to be dead after all. It was best to know these things before anyone was actually buried.

Sleep swallowed her like a pond gulping a pebble.

The only sane option was to retreat back out into the corridor. Fortunately sanity had never really slowed Neverfell down.

Over this year, familiarity had done its usual work, picking off the gilded paint one scratch at a time.

She imagined it, a great Bear lost in darkness, friendless and trapped as it had been for so long. It could not understand where it was, or why its body was so strange and weak. All it knew was that it was under attack, just as it had always been...

You need me," Pen explained. "I'm your lookout. If I see the coppers coming, I'll make a sound like an owl.

Cheesemaster, I know that it is almost a matter of principle with you, but you should actually be careful wearing the same Face day in and day out. It marks the countenance. Some day you may want to use one of your other Faces and suddenly realize that your face muscles can no longer remember them." Grandible stared at her, his face dour as a gibbet. "I find this one very suitable for most situations and people I encounter.

What a mind that woman must have!" he said with admiration. It was the hushed tone of a jeweller studying the largest and finest diamond he will ever see.

Over its waters the willows drooped their long hair, bucking in the gusts as if with sobs. Against the dark surface she could make out the white waterlily buds, like small hands reaching up from beneath the surface.

Before her escort could react, she sprinted out from their little pool of lantern-light into the darkness, her feet pounding the soft, treacherous clods of the field. The guards called after her for a while, but did not pursue, In a lost city, how could they chase down every lost soul who became a little more lost?

The common sense in Zouelle's words hit Neverfell like a slingshot. The last time Neverfell had appeared before Madame Appeline it had been in the role of captured thief, and the Facesmith had duly handed Neverfell over to the authorities. If there had been any chance of friendship between them, Neverfell's actions had probably killed it dead.

After the engine had faded away she did not dismount, but sat for a few minutes with her face in her hands, almost as if she was praying. If it was a prayer she was muttering, however, it was one full of all the swear words that Not-Triss had ever heard, and quite a few she had not.

You don't have to stay if you don't want to,' said the girl called Makepeace. 'But you're welcome to travel with us as long as you like. We believe in second chances, for the people who don't usually get them. 'You're among friends, Hannah, You're home.

Oh, Neverfell, you're just not made for undercover work. You can't lie, my dear, and I can. Leave Madame Appeline and the Doldrums to me. Stay here and keep your head down.

His gaze made her feel like a mouse in owl-country.

One little superstition of mine I hope you will indulge. I never meet with perfect strangers in desolate bastle houses or alarmingly named alleyways at twilight. This trifling quirk I developed shortly after acquiring a large number of enemies.

The ladies' fans opened with cracks like pistol shots, and were held up to block the stranger from view.

The Bible says we should know a tree by the fruit it bears," Makepeace replied, a little sharply. "If you burn my hand off, what should I think of you?