“I didn’t know what being young had to do with it. It seemed to me that older people could do foolish things just as easily as young ones. I had certainly seen older people do some very foolish things.”
“Were there once only women warriors, Mother?” “Don’t know.” “Oh.” I started to get up. “Makes sense,” she said. “Why?” “Who else should take a life? No man ever brought a child out of his body.”
“I’m not sure I understand you,” she said. “Are you telling me you saved my life because you were angry with me?” The idea struck me funny. “Yes,” I said, trying not to smile. “Furious.” “Furious?” “Enraged,” I said. “Oh dear.” And then she smiled.”
“When someone insults me, it makes me angry.” “If that’s true, then your feelings will always be at the mercy of others.”
“When your body feels pain,” she said at last, “you try to find the cause and do something to stop it, because your pain is warning you of a real danger. When your heart feels pain, you need to find the cause of that too, because the danger is no less real, and your pain will grow worse until you understand what caused it. Only then will you know what can be done to stop it.”
“As I lay in the darkness with the thong around my wrist, I believed I understood Gnith's spell. The thong was more than long enough, but every time Maara moved, I felt it move with her. It kept me constantly aware of her, and if a person's thoughts are with someone, how can she break away to go with someone else? When I slept, my warriors walked in my dreams, and in my dreams, the thong that bound us was not from wrist to wrist, but from heart to heart.”
“How could that be a choice? When someone insults me, it makes me angry.” “If that’s true, then your feelings will always be at the mercy of others.”
“Every thing in the world can wait but one. Only love can’t wait.”
“Think of a woman whose body has made a child. Who gave birth to it. Cradled and nursed it. Loved it. She will hold life dear differently than someone who has not.” I wondered if once only mothers had been warriors. § § §”
“It would be better for you if you were not my friend."
"It's too late for that," I told her.”
“Food is the distance you can travel in a day, and the cold you can withstand at night.”
“I felt like a bird, caged all its life, set free by an open window and cowering upon the windowsill.”
“Because you didn’t know you had a choice.” “What choice?” “To be angry or not.” It was the silliest thing I’d ever heard. “That’s not a choice.” “Yes,” she said. “It is.”
“Think of a woman whose body has made a child. Who gave birth to it. Cradled and nursed it. Loved it. She will hold life dear differently than someone who has not.”
“A woman with a warrior’s heart shouldn’t fear the truth,” she said. “No weapon in the world is stronger than the truth.”
“So it is the custom that a free woman leave her mother’s house to bind herself and those of her blood to a neighboring clan, either by the sword or by the cradle.”
“You have the right to refuse to do anything that anyone asks of you, but that doesn’t mean that to refuse is always wise.” “But I have the right to be unwise, isn’t that true?” “Yes,” she said. “You’re a free woman. We are all free women here. Freedom is important, just as obedience is important. Each has its place.”
“the women of my family had gone to war. My mother’s sisters, older than she, fought in the service of the Lady Abicel in the last war against the northern tribes. Their mother served the Lady’s mother in wars told of in grandmothers’ tales. As far back as our line was remembered, our family and hers stood side by side. My mother too had served the Lady. Too young to bear arms in the last war, from within the palisade where she trained to take her place among the warriors, she heard the clash of arms and the screams of the dying outside the walls. She”
“so far remained unbroken. Now my turn had come. In early springtime, when I was just sixteen, my mother took me to the house where she had won her shield so many years before. The Lady Abicel, long dead, had left her house and lands, along with her”
“It took me a long time to learn that I didn’t have to feel what someone wanted me to feel, but once I learned it, it became a habit. It’s a useful habit. Because I wasn’t angry, I was able to think clearly about what was the best thing to do.”
“stood side by side. My mother too had served the Lady. Too young to bear arms in the last war, from within the palisade where she trained to take”
“Discipline is simply self-control. If a warrior can't control her feelings, she can't control her actions, and if she can't control her actions, she may blunder into a serious mistake.”
“In my mind I compared Elen and Vintel. Next to Elen, Vintel appeared to be no more than a simpleminded blunderer, yet the grief she had caused, the harm she'd done, we as hideous as Elen's wicked deeds. Perhaps stupidity is as dangerous as evil.”
“I don’t!” I said. “I don’t care what she thinks!” “Of course you do. Why else would you be angry?” I couldn’t think of a good answer. “Shall I tell you why?” she said. I nodded. “Because you didn’t know you had a choice.” “What choice?” “To be angry or not.” It was the silliest thing I’d ever heard. “That’s not a choice.” “Yes,” she said. “It is.” She waited patiently for me to understand. “How could that be a choice? When someone insults me, it makes me angry.” “If that’s true, then your feelings will always be at the mercy of others.”
“ That night I spent in turmoil. Fitfully, I slept, I woke up, I slept again, and every time I slept I kept on dreaming of Micòl.
I dreamt, for example, of finding myself, just like that very first day I set foot in the garden, watching her play tennis with Alberto. Even in the dream I never took my eyes off her for a second. I kept on telling myself how wonderful she was, flushed and covered with sweat, with that frown of almost fierce concentration that divided her forehead, all tensed up as she was with the effort to beat her smiling, slightly bored and sluggish older brother. Yet then I felt oppressed by an uneasiness, an embittered feeling, an almost unbearable ache.”
“...some people become hypercritical when stressed.
Then again, he hadn't been stressed last week. She giggled, remembering how he'd instructed her on the proper way to fold hand towels. Talk about nitpicky. Perhaps this would be a good time to call it quits.”
“The triumph of advertising in the culture industry is that consumers feel compelled to buy and use its products even though they see through them.”
“Some remote fragment of Main Line to somewhere else, there was, which was going to ruin the Money Market if it failed, and Church and State if it succeeded, and (of course), the Constitution, whether or no;”
“The whole town is talking about you sleeping with her. I won’t have it.” Mac laughed,”
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