Yes, I know,โ she said in answer to the unasked, for there was no time for explanations. โYes. My face is spoilt.โ Grandibleโs jowl wobbled and creased. Then, for the first time that Neverfell could remember, he changed to a Face she had never seen before, a frown more ferocious and alarming than either of the others. โWho the shambles told you that?โ he barked. โSpoilt? Iโll spoil them.โ He took hold of her chin and examined her. โA bit sadder, maybe. A bit wiser. But nothing rotten. Youโre just growing yourself a rind at last. Still a good cheese.
Frances HardingeTruth is dangerous. It topples palaces and kills kings. It stirs gentle men to rage and bids them take up arms. It wakes old grievances and opens forgotten wounds. It is the mother of the sleepless night and the hag-ridden day. And yet there is one thing that is more dangerous than Truth. Those who would silence Truthโs voice are more destructive by far. It is most perilous to be a speaker of Truth. Sometimes one must choose to be silent, or be silenced. But if a truth cannot be spoken, it must at least be known. Even if you dare not speak truth to others, never lie to yourself.
Frances HardingeEverybody knew that books were dangerous. Read the wrong book, it was said, and the words crawled around your brain on black legs and drove you mad, wicked mad.
Frances HardingeThe world is like a broken wrist that healed the wrong way, and will never be the same again.
Frances Hardinge