Quotes from Sisters Red

“I am confident, I am capable, and I will not wait to be rescued by a woodsman or a hunter.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“My sister has the heart of an artist with a hatchet and an eye patch. And I, we both now know, have a heart that is undeniably, irreparably different.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“Knowledge does have a way of making you an outcast.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“I follow, always, because it's the only time when our hearts beat in perfect harmony, the only time when I'm certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are one person broken in two.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“How could I possibly try to pretend the sunlight doesn’t exist, now that it’s taken so much of me?”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“I like libraries. It's a comfort that knowledge can be save for so long. That what we learn can be passed on.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“When we were little, Scarlett and I were utterly convinced that we'd originally been one person in our mother's belly. We believed that somehow, half of us wanted to be born and half wanted to stay. So our heart had to be broken in two so that Scarlett could be born first, and then I finally braved the outside world a few years later. It made sense, in our little pigtailed heads--it explained why, when we ran through grass or danced or spun in circles long enough, we would lose track of who was who and it started to feel as if there were some organic, elegant link between us, our single heart holding the same tempo and pumping the same blood. That was before the attack, though. Now our hearts link only when we're hunting, when Scarlett looks at me with a sort of beautiful excitement that's more powerful than her scars and then tears after a Fenris as though her life depends on its death. I follow, always, because it's the only time when our hearts beat in perfect harmony, the only time when I'm certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are one person broken in two.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“Would I trade that in, give it away for the hunt? I stumble down the stairs of a subway. No. I couldn’t trade it in again. Not now that I know what it is to be loved. Not now that I’ve stepped out of the cave and into the sun.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“And I am more alone than ever before.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“I hesitate, then put my other hand on top of his. We're partners. Always have been, even when I hate him, when he's a thousand miles away, when he loves my sister... even when it'd be easier to go it alone for good.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“I turn back to them, trying to maintain control of my emotions, trying to keep the two of them from seeing that I'm shaking in sorrow and anger and hurt.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“Maybe I'm a masochist, but watching them together would hurt, sting with jealousy and betrayal. Hurt would be something, at least, some feeling to break up the dead, dull sensation I've been filled with for days now”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“He's gonna come at you first,” the boy says
“I know,” I answer. “You go to his--”
“I will,” he replies, grinning. I shake my head. Nothing's changed. We don't need words, not when we're hunting together.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“Here I am, saving your lives, bitten and scarred and wounded for you, and you don't even know it.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“I recognize the look in Silas's eyes--adoration. I furrow my eyebrows and try to shake away the feeling of being punched in the face.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“When we were little, Scarlett and I were utterly convinced that we'd originally been one person in our mother's belly. We believed that somehow, half of us wanted to be born and half wanted to stay. So our heart had to be broken in two so that Scarlett could be born first, and then I finally braved the outside world a few years later. It made sense, in our pig-tailed heads--it explained why, when we ran through grass or danced or spun in circle long enough, we would lose track of who was who and it started to feel as if there were some organic, elegant link between us, our single heart holding the same tempo and pumping the same blood. That was before the attack, though. Now our hearts link only when we're hunting, when Scarlett looks at me with a sort of beautiful excitement that's more powerful than her scars and then tears after a Fenris as though her life depends on its death. I follow, always, because it's the only time when our hearts beat in perfect harmony, the only time when I'm certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we are one person broken in two.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“Scarlet . . .” Silas begins in a serious tone. He started using “the tone” when we were kids to remind me that he’s older than I am. It annoys me just as much now as it did then, only now it’s less acceptable for me to push him into the mud for it.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“Wow,” Silas says softly as he kills the ignition. I follow his stare out the windshield—Rosie is standing in the kitchen doorway, arms folded and eyes sparkling in anger. “Rosie looks . . . different.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“And I have to admit that there is something undeniably fulfilling about hunting with Rosie. Somehow, it makes me feel as if the long list of differences between us doesn't exist. We're dressed the same, we fight the same enemy, we win together ... It's as though for that moment I get to be her, the one who isn't covered in thick scars, and she gets to understand what it is to be me. It's different than hunting with Silas--he and I are partners, not part of the same heart.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“Scarlett doesn’t want to go to the hospital. Not surprising, really, since we have to come up with an elaborate story about how we all got so severely wounded.
“Dogfight. We broke one up,” my sister answers for us as a horrified emergency room receptionist looks at Scarlett’s raw, bleeding shoulders.
“Dogs dislike us.” Silas shrugs, clutching the wound on his chest. He glances down at the burn wounds on my legs. I think they might scar, but it’s hard to say. The receptionist speaks into a walkie-talkie, then lets her eyes travel from the fresh wounds to the ancient scars on Scarlett’s body.
“Dogs pretty much hate me,” Scarlett says testily. The poor receptionist looks relieved when the ER doctors appear and usher us down the hall.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“I'm the only one left to fight so now I must kill you”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“When they attack her, I scream until my voice is hoarse so I don't have to hear the shredding sounds.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“How about we go through the festival once before picking a spot?”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I enjoy apples,” he replies. Rosie giggles. “Because then we can go if there’s a spot that would be particularly easy to grab a girl from,” he answers again, voice serious this time.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“So, did you see that community center I was talking about?”
“What? Where?”
“We walked right past it, just before that grocery store. I mentioned it on the way to the city? You just drop in and take classes. They’ve got all sorts of stuff. I bet you can get a student rate, even.”
“But I’m not a student—”
“You’re young enough that they’ll assume—”
“—and how am I supposed to find the time to take dance classes, now that I’m the dessert?”
“I’m starting to really regret using that metaphor,” Silas says, grinning. “And let me explain something, Rosie.” He takes a swig of the coffee and presses his lips together, searching for words. “I’m from a long, long, long, long line of woodsmen. My brothers are all supertalented. They all built their own rooms. For god’s sake, Lucas built a freaking wooden hot tub in his bedroom with wooden monkeys pouring water into it.”
“Monkeys?”
“Don’t ask. Anyway, I can do some woodworking. I know my way around the forest, I can handle an ax better than most, I can make a tree grow where nothing else will, I can live off berries and hunt for my food, and I’ve known about the Fenris since I could crawl. I’m a woodsman, for all intents and purposes. But that doesn’t mean I live for it any more than the fact that you’re good at hunting means you have to live for that. So maybe breaking out of the hunting lifestyle for a few hours here and there will help you figure out if it’s really for you or not.”
I shake my head, confused as to why he’d even think that was possible. “I can’t just not hunt, Silas. So yeah, I take a few random classes, and what if I decide that I hate hunting and want to quit? That doesn’t mean I can. I owe Scarlett my life, and if she wants to cash in by having me spend my life hunting beside her, so be it. It’d kill her if she ever thought I wanted to quit.”
“Rosie,” Silas says quietly. “I’m not suggesting you drop your sister like a bad habit and take up intense ballet training.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“Two men enter the room, one old and mustached and the other young and tawny-headed, wearing sweats and a worn T-shirt. He looks like Silas, actually—god, what am I, obsessed? But there really is something of the woodsman in the younger man’s face, with his full lips, his slightly curled hair that turns like tendrils around his ears . . . I look away before studying him too closely.
“All right, ladies, are we ready?” the older man says enthusiastically. There’s a loud rustling of paper as well flip the enormous sketchbooks on our easels until we find blank sheets. I draw a few soft lines on my page, unsure what—
Non-Silas rips off his T-shirt, revealing lightly defined muscles on his pale chest. I raise an eyebrow just as he tugs at the waist of the sweatpants. They drop to the floor in a fluid, sweeping motion.
There’s nothing underneath them. At all.
My charcoal slips through my suddenly sweaty fingers.
Non-Silas steps out of the puddle of his clothes and moves to the center of the room, fluorescent lights reflecting off his slick abdomen. He’s smiling as though he isn’t naked, smiling as though I didn’t somehow manage to get the seat closest to him. As if I can’t see . . . um . . . everything only a few feet from my face, making my mind clumsily spiral. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment; he looks like Silas in the face, and because of that I keep wondering if he looks akin to Silas everywhere else.
“All right, ladies, this will be a seven-minute pose. Ready?” the older man says, positioning himself behind the other empty easel. The roomful of housewives nod in one hungry motion. I quiver. “Go!” the older man says, starting the stopwatch. Non-Silas poses, something reminiscent of Michelangelo’s David, only instead of marble eyes looking into nothingness, non-Silas is staring almost straight at me.
Draw. I’m supposed to be drawing. I grab a new piece of charcoal from the bottom of the easel and begin hastily making lines in my sketchbook. I can’t not look at him, or he’ll think I’m not drawing him. I glance hurriedly, trying to avoid the region my eyes continuously return to. I start to feel fluttery.
How long has it been? Surely it’s been seven minutes. I try to add some tone to my drawing’s chest. I wonder what Silas’s chest looks like . . . Stop! Stop stop stop stop stop—”
“Right, then!” the older man says as his stopwatch beeps loudly and the scratchy sound of charcoal on paper ends. Thank you, sir, thank you—”
“Annnnd next pose!”
Non-Silas turns his head away, till all I can see is his wren-colored hair and his side, including a side view of . . . how many times am I going to have to draw this man’s area? What’s worse is that he looks even more like Silas now that I can’t see his eyes. Just like Silas, I bet. My eyes linger longer than necessary now that non-Silas isn’t staring straight at me.
By the end of class, I’ve drawn eight mediocre pictures of him, each one with a large white void in the crotch area. The housewives compare drawings with ravenous looks in their eyes as non-Silas tugs his pants back on and leaves the room, nodding politely. I picture him naked again.
I sprint from the class, abandoning my sketches—how could I explain them to Scarlett or Silas? Stop thinking of Silas, stop thinking of Silas.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“I don’t know how to bowl.”
“Right, that’s a problem, since this place really screams ‘professional bowling,’” Silas snips back, rolling his eyes.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“I can’t pinpoint what exactly it is until Silas steps behind my sister and delicately runs his fingers through her hair, his handle gentle as if he’s touching a priceless jewel. Rosie blushes as he leans into her and whispers something in her ear that makes her lips curve up in an elegant smile. I recognize the look in Silas’s eyes—adoration.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“You understand,” Silas says quietly—the words are just for me, but I know Scarlett hears—“I’m . . . when I’m twenty-eight, Rosie. You know what this means. I’m dangerous, Rosie.”
“You plan on loving me when you’re twenty-eight?” I interrupt, uncertain if my question is serious or not.
Silas’s eyes widen in surprise. He turns to look out the taxi window for a moment, and when his eyes meet mine again, there’s a beautiful sincerity glistening in the gray-blue irises. “Rosie . . . I love you. Now, when I’m twenty-eight, when I’m thirty-five . . . I love you.”
I exhale. “Okay, then.”
“But I’m—”
I put a finger against his soft, bow-shaped lips. “Okay, then.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

“You need some help, Rosie?”
His footsteps quicken behind me, and before I can respond, I feel his calloused hands on my waist. I accidently slide back against his chest and inhale the scent that has always clung to his whole family—something like forests, damp leaves, and sunshine. I suppose when your father is a woodsman you’re bound to carry the scent of oak in your veins. One breath is all I get the chance for, though; he kicks the door open and sets me down on the front stoop, then takes a step back. I turn to face him, hoping to thank him for the help and in the same sentence admonish him for carrying me like a little girl.
Instead, I smile. He’s still Silas—Silas who left a year ago, the boy just a little older than my sister. His eyes are still sparkling and expressive, hair still the brown-black color of pine bark, body broad-shouldered and a little too willowy for his features. He’s still there, but it’s as if someone new has been layered on top of him. Someone older and stronger who isn’t looking a me as if I’m Scarlett’s kid sister . . . someone who makes me feel dizzy and quivery. How did this happen?
Calm down. It’s just Silas. Sort of.
“You’re staring,” he says cautiously, looking worried.
“Oh. Um, sorry,” I say, shaking my head. Silas shoves his hands into his pockets with a familiar sway. “It’s just been a while, that’s all.”
“Yeah, no kidding. You’re heavier than I remember.”
I frown, mortified.
“Oh, no, wait. I didn’t mean it like that, just that you’ve gotten older. Wait, that doesn’t sound much better . . .” Silas runs a hand through his hair and curses under his breath.
“No, I get it.” I let him off the hook, grinning. Something about seeing him nervous thaws some of my shyness.”
― Jackson Pearce, quote from Sisters Red

About the author

Popular quotes

“America took a drink from the tall glass in his hand, then spun around and took a few steps in my direction, cutting across the dance floor. In the next instant, his arms were flailing over his head and he fell like a tree that had been chopped down, tripping over God knows what and landing flat on his belly. Oh man, the poor guy was dance floor road kill. He knocked over at least ten people on his way down in a domino effect. The slippery ice that had flown out of his glass took out another dozen, most of them knocking down even more people as they fell. Chance was fairly nimble and managed to remain standing, but he was in the minority.”
― Alexa Land, quote from Against the Wall

“I love a boy who can't get his shit together, but without him I can't breathe. Thomas is love to me, and this love runs deeper than my blood and stronger than my own sense of instinct and survival. This love is forever-bound.”
― Mary Elizabeth, quote from Delinquents

“And for the partridge there was the sun suddenly shut out, the foul flailing blackness spreading wings above, the roar ceasing, the blazing knives driving in, the terrible white face descending – hooked and masked and horned and staring-eyed. And then the back-breaking agony beginning, and snow scattering from scuffling feet, and snow filling the bill’s wide silent scream, till the merciful needle of the hawk’s beak notched in the straining neck and jerked the shuddering life away.

And for the hawk, resting now on the soft flaccid bulk of his prey, there was the rip and tear of choking feathers, and hot blood dripping from the hook of the beak, and rage dying slowly to a small hard core within.

And for the watcher, sheltered for centuries from such hunger and such rage, such agony and such fear, there is the memory of that sabring fall from the sky, and the vicarious joy of the guiltless hunter who kills only through his familiar, and wills him to be fed.”
― J.A. Baker, quote from The Peregrine

“If they had started their sales pitch with WHY the product existed in the first place, the product itself would have become the proof of the higher cause—proof of WHY.”
― Simon Sinek, quote from Start with Why: How Great Leaders Inspire Everyone to Take Action

“The next morning we experienced our very first “full English breakfast,” which consisted of tea, orange juice, cookies, oatmeal, granola, berries, bananas, croissants, grapes, pineapples, prunes, yogurt, five kinds of cold cereal, eggs, hash browns, back bacon, sausage, smoked salmon, tomatoes, mushrooms, beans, toast, butter, jam, jelly, and honey. I don’t know how the British do it.”
― Jared Brock, quote from A Year of Living Prayerfully: How a Curious Traveler Met the Pope, Walked on Coals, Danced with Rabbis, and Revived His Prayer Life

Interesting books

About BookQuoters

BookQuoters is a community of passionate readers who enjoy sharing the most meaningful, memorable and interesting quotes from great books. As the world communicates more and more via texts, memes and sound bytes, short but profound quotes from books have become more relevant and important. For some of us a quote becomes a mantra, a goal or a philosophy by which we live. For all of us, quotes are a great way to remember a book and to carry with us the author’s best ideas.

We thoughtfully gather quotes from our favorite books, both classic and current, and choose the ones that are most thought-provoking. Each quote represents a book that is interesting, well written and has potential to enhance the reader’s life. We also accept submissions from our visitors and will select the quotes we feel are most appealing to the BookQuoters community.

Founded in 2023, BookQuoters has quickly become a large and vibrant community of people who share an affinity for books. Books are seen by some as a throwback to a previous world; conversely, gleaning the main ideas of a book via a quote or a quick summary is typical of the Information Age but is a habit disdained by some diehard readers. We feel that we have the best of both worlds at BookQuoters; we read books cover-to-cover but offer you some of the highlights. We hope you’ll join us.