Voices from the Books
Lines Worth Carrying
Straight from the page. Dry wit, hard truths, and the odd gut-punch, all from The Stone Garden.
The first city burned between two rivers.
They were everywhere. People. Hundreds of them, standing in the low red light, and every one of them was stone.
The seed is given. It is never taken.
A truth can be a knife. Knowing where to place it is not the same as knowing when to draw it.
They reach for the child you buried because a buried child is the softest thing anyone carries.
It does not farm a city with fear. It farms one with love.
A city cannot be held while it dies. A hand can.
I serve the people she spends.
You will have graves, Neris. Keep your good nights too.
Then stop calling him a boy from the river towns. His name was Perrin. Carry it properly.
Do not let anyone tell me you died bravely.
I married you. The work came to the wedding and ate most of the food.
I want to stand in front of something terrible and find that I do not move.
Horses do not ask me to explain three thousand years before breakfast.
I have been told I improve with distance.
I will try to die disgracefully.
Everyone dislikes her. It saves time.
Because you will look foolish saying it, and pride is already a danger at your height.