Quotes from Storm Constantine

The past is not all gilded memories of summer, Merlan. If some aspects of it are uncomfortable, it doesn't mean they shouldn't be confronted.

We should be partners, not master and servant.

In her heart, she felt she was caught in the lull between tides. The waves had crashed over her on their journey to the land, but they had not yet receded. The ebbing tide had slithered past her on the dragon rock, silently, without waking her. In this way, her soul was still surrounded by water. She was stranded on the island, with no safe passage to shore.

Ghosts only lived in the past, caught up in their melodramas, reliving and reliving them. Selish they were, selfish and blind.

I am their secret, but then the humans in the Strangeling have many secrets.

I could imagine that should a weak-willed traveller end up in Yhkey, they would quickly become so disoriented, they might forget where they were going and where they had come from. They might just become part of the madness, singing and dancing until they died.

In her dreams Barbara was strong and powerful. She did not see herself as a slim, limpid beauty, but a statuesque valkyrie, who stalked a wild landscape, making things happen and having Experiences. Barbara's imagination was fecund. She did not read most of her fantasies to the other members of her writing group.

Strange, pulsing symbols appeared before his eyes, oozed past him. He neither ate nor drank nor slept, but still his strength did not diminish. It was almost as if something called to him, drawing him onward. The otherworld, perhaps.

And who are you exactly? Might I ask what you want?" "We want you," said the man. "And who am I?

This was not the broken man who'd lounged around the Assembly Rooms. This was Peveral Othman, with all his poise and power, reborn, renewed. There was no dark taint to him now. How had it happened?

Neither of them particularly understood what they were feeling because they were very innocent and neither of them had any idea what the strange sensations in their bodies could mean or how they could be satisfied.

He's beautiful," she said, an inadequate response in comparison to the strange lurch she felt in her belly. The eyes of the portrait seemed to stare right into her: "He looks sad." "That was painted just before he went to Magrast for the first time. He wasn't happy about leaving home.

I have hung on with all my strength, but I feel it leaving me. I must give it to you.

Tappish celebrations were laid-back affairs in comparison, loose and carefree, devoid of tension, but it was the tension that made the heart sing, that kindled the feverish need to experience and taste, until the tongue was numb.

He was like the light of the sun itself, so beautiful and golden. But like the sun, his heat was fierce and merciless. He was powerful enough to give life, but could take it too.

The Mewts have an almost holy regard for beautiful boys beloved of kings, and Alofel was aware of this. Mewtish folklore was plump with tales about the mysterious, sacrosanct relationship of male lovers, whereas the Cossics were far more casual about these lessons. Most Cossic noblemen had wives and boys, but there was really little distinction between them.

The princess saw into the mind of her father, understood then its workings; cunning and twisting.

Love makes you weak and vulnerable. It's like a disease. I hate this feeling. It's making me something I'm not.

The Crown was now surrounded by an expanding bubble of indigo light that spat out sparks of brighter purple radiance.

He has touched you, enfolded you. You are his.

Take me, Sacramante, I thought, eyes closed. I am yours.

Ays, I do believe you might have terranaut blood in your veins after all! You beguile me into revealing too much and no ordinary godling could do that!

Pharinet, more than anyone he knew, craved freedom.

Othman watched Owen through slitted eyes, waiting for him to manifest some physical effect from the haoma that Emma had put in his coffee. Lily was chattering brightly, but her words were nothing more than a chirruping nonsense that flapped around Othman's senses. He wanted Owen. He needed him.