“It's a sword, not a fairy wand, you know.”
“One thing' Erak said. 'Tell your men to keep their noses clean while they're in Hallasholm. I don't want any trouble.'
Zavac nodded and smiled. 'I understand. This is a quiet town and you don't want the peace disturbed.'
Erak smiled back, but it was like a smile on the face of a shark. 'No. This is a very violent town and if your men cause trouble, my people will break their heads a for them. I don't want to be paying any blood money for damage done to your crew. Understand?'
Zavac's smile faded. He looked for some sign that the Oberjarl was joking, but he saw none. He nodded again, slowly this time.”
“Stig: 'Of course, she'll sail rings around Wolfswind,'
Hal: 'Then why didn't you tell him that?'
Stig: 'I like my head where it is.”
“You can always win points; winning people’s respect is a lot more important.”
“Neither boy ever intended to speak about the events at the cliff that day. But of course their mothers eventually worked the truth out of them. Mothers always do.”
“Only if you're a numbskull."
"Numbskull yourself! Want me to numb your skull with this shovel?”
“What a brotherband!" he declared. "A thief, a touchy first mate, a shortsighted bear, a joker, two twins who can't tell each other apart, a bookworm and a skirl who doesn't know the right shape for a ship's sail." He beamed at all of them, then added, "I can't think of better qualities in a wolfship's crew.”
“He did what he thought was right,”
“The reason I prefer the sledgehammer to the rapier and the reason I believe in blunt, violent, confrontational forms for the presentation of my ideas is because I see that what’s happening to the lives of people is not rapierlike, it is not gentle, it is not subtle. It is direct, hard and violent. The slow violence of poverty, the slow violence of untreated disease. Of unemployment, hunger, discrimination. This isn’t the violence of some guy opening fire with an Uzi in a McDonald’s and forty people are dead. The real violence that goes on every day, unheard, unreported, over and over, multiplied a millionfold.”
“Michiko Nogami (1946—1982)”
Is she more apparent because she is not
anymore forever? Is her whiteness more white
because she was the color of pale honey?
A smokestack making the sky more visible.
A dead woman filling the whole world. Michiko
said, “The roses you gave me kept me awake
with the sound of their petals falling.”
“Those are the things that define us. The way we love the people around us, and the choices we make to show it. That's what makes us who we are.”
“Anne’s awfully sensitive,’ said Rhoda. ‘And she’s bad about—well, facing things. If anything’s upset her, she’d just rather not talk about it,”
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