Cassandra Rose Clarke · 298 pages
Rating: (16.7K votes)
“She moved like water, graceful and soft and lovely. Every part of me wanted to stick out my foot and trip her, just to see her stumble.”
“You don't realize how much you miss something till it comes back to you, and then you wonder how you went so long without it.”
“I can't believe this," I muttered, cradling the skein of water up close to my chest. "Two weeks in the desert all on account of some assassin who doesn't know how to look out for snakes."
"If you hadn't killed that snake," Naji said calmly, "I would have killed you."
" Oh, shut up.”
“I'd handed my heart over to him, a damned blood magic assassin, without even realizing it.”
“Well, look who's on my front porch," he said, speaking Empire with this odd hissing accent. "A murderer and a cross-dressing pirate."
I looked down at my clothes, ripped and shredded and covered in mud and sand and dried blood. I'd forgotten I was dressed like a boy.
"So are you here to kill me or to rob me?" the man said. "I generally don't find it useful to glow when undertaking acts of subterfuge, but then, I'm just a wizard”
“He smelled like magic and sweat and the sea, but there was something else beneath all that, something sweet and warm like honey, and just for a moment I didn't feel afraid anymore.”
“I was dozing on the sand, drowsy from the heat of the fire, when Naji shook me awake hours later. I rolled over and looked at him. "You're alive," he said. "Course I'm alive," I snapped. "You're the one who keeps passing out.”
“Beautiful people, things are to easy for them. They don't know how to survive in this world. Somebody's ugly, or even plain, normal-looking, that means they got to work twice as hard for things. For anything. Just to get peple to listen to 'em, or take 'em serious. So yeah. I don't trust beautiful people.”
“Nobody writes down stories." [Ananna]
"They do when they're trapped at sea and bored senseless." [Naji]”
“You!" I shouted. "What's wrong with you?"
He blinked at me.
"I thought you got turned into a fern."
"Oh. Oh, Ananna, I'm sorry I didn't think-”
“What stopped you? Why didn't you help her?" [Naji]
"Cause you're my friend," I said. [Ananna]
All the hardness in his features melted away. "Oh.”
“You know, that pissed me off. We'd traveled half around the world to get to him, and there were monsters chasing us and Naji's curse was impossible to break, and here he was cracking jokes about our professions.”
“What kinda vows?" Celibacy? I thought, though I didn't say it. Nobody keeps a celibacy vow anyway.”
“I thought the assassin was moving kind of slow for an assassin. Maybe the magic had done something after all. Or maybe he felt sorry for me. That sort of thing happens among cutthroats more often than you'd expect.”
“Then I saw that sparkle in Naji's eye and knew he was laughing at me.
"See?" he said. "Now you know how it feels"
I glared at him for a few seconds. He looked kind of pleased with himself, but he also looked kind of happy, and that was enough for me to turn back to my equations.”
“This was why I hated beautiful people. They build you up and then they destroy you. And we let 'em.”
“I wasn't really going to go. I ain't so heartless I'm gonna let someone be struck down with pain on account of me. Even if that someone is a murderer and a liar. Hell, murderers and liars used to sing me to sleep.”
“They wouldn't have rescued you," he said. "They wouldn't risk bringing an outsider through Kajjil."
"Guess I just ruin everything for you, don't I? Give you headaches and keep you from getting rescued-"
"I told them no," he said, "even when I thought - when I hoped - the Eirnin would have cured me.”
“That made me sad. Sure, sirens are a pain in the ass, but how could he not see all the beauty that was out there-- the starlight leaving stains of brightness in the water, the salt-kissed wind? I wanted to find a way to share it with him, show him there was more in the world than blood and shadow.”
“But if a girl don't have her intuition, she don't got anything.”
“He didn't ask - of course he didn't ask - but he did show up at the captain's quarters one evening after dinner looking sheepish.”
“Cockiness is useful to fake on occasion, but it'll only get you killed if you believe it.”
“Your enthusiasm for learning gives me hope for the future," he said. "We can start right now if you'd like. You don't seem to be...working”
“Tell any grizzled old cutthroat a sob story about a double-cross and a broken heart and he'll eat right out of your hand.”
“That weird feeling of wanting to be found and not wanting to be found stuck with me.”
“I wanted to find a way to share it with him, show him there was more in the world than blood and shadow.”
“One of the first things I learned. You get stranded, look for water. Then find a place to protect yourself.”
“There are three ways of bettering yourself in the Pirates' Confederation, Mama told me once: murder, mutiny, and marriage.”
“She felt the snake between her breasts, felt him there, and loved him there, coiled, the deep tumescent S held rigid, ready to strike. She loved the way the snake looked sewn onto her V-neck letter sweater, his hard diamondback pattern shining in the sun. It was unseasonably hot, almost sixty degrees, for early November in Mystic, Georgia, and she could smell the light musk of her own sweat. She liked the sweat, liked the way it felt, slick as oil, in all the joints of her body, her bones, in the firm sliding muscles, tensed and locked now, ready to spring--to strike--when the band behind her fired up the school song: "Fight On Deadly Rattlers of Old Mystic High.”
“If one prevents a man from working for the good of society while at the same time providing for the satisfaction of his own needs, then only one way remains open to him: to make himself richer and others poorer by the violent oppression and spoliation of his fellow men.”
“It is my growing conviction that my life belongs to others just as much as it belongs to myself and that what is experienced as most unique often proves to be most solidly embedded in the common condition of being human.”
“The more she tried to recapture the impulse that had set her wanting to put pen to paper, the less it seemed to have ever existed in the first place.”
“What George was thinking was that the late king Herod had been unjustly blamed for a policy which had been both statesmanlike and in the interests of the public. He was blaming the mawkish sentimentality of the modern legal system which ranks the evisceration and secret burial of small boys as a crime.”
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