R.L. LaFevers Quotes

Tis Vanth's cage. You can just move it out of the way." "I already have," he grumbles. "With my shin.

Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.

You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.

Truly, we are the gods' own children, forged in the fire of our tortured pasts, but also blessed with unimaginable gifts.

People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.

I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.' 'It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say. 'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.

Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.

I am beginning to think that love itself is never wrong. It is what love can drive people to do that is the problem.

It takes a surprising amount of courage to place one's hand into an unseen area when your mind is thinking about vermin.

I have found it is surprisingly difficult to remain sad when a cat is doing its level best to sandpaper one's cheeks.

I pause at the door, wishing I could find a corner and sleep until my head clears, but the sailor said the abbess is expecting me, and while I do not know much about abbesses, I suspect they are not fond of waiting.

I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.

Not all men are the same, you know. With someone such as Gavriel, I would suggest appearing aloof, not chasing too much. He might see that as suffocating rather than charming." Her words are sharp, but her voice is sweet, like honey on the edge of a blade, and meant to be cutting. I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face and commending his soul to Mortain.

So.... You are well equipped for our service.' 'Which is?' 'We kill people.

You would throw away all that we have given you for a man’s love?” “Not a man’s love,” I say softly. “But Duval’s. And I would find a way to serve both my god and my heart. Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.

When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.

God's Teeth,' he says. 'I was only trying to wake you. You were crying out in your sleep.' 'I was not,' I say, then look from his neck to my knife. 'When I tried to wake you, you stabbed me.' He sounds sore put out. and I cannot blame him.

I cannot tell her I have been moping over a broken heart when I have worked so hard to convince her I have no heart at all.

Every time he glances at me I feel it just as surely as if he has reached out and run his finger along my soul. It is all I can do not to smile at the sheer wonder of it.

I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face.

There is no shame in scars, Ismae.

Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.

If he is smart, he will run. He is not.

I blew that clay pigeon to smithereens. I don't know why Mum got so upset. According to Uncle Andrew she's a crack shot herself. But she says I'm too young. What I'd like to know is how old does a person have to be before they get to do all the fun stuff?

However, there are those who deserve to die but who have not yet encountered the means to do so—we help them on their way.

Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?

I will sit here but an hour or two, then leave." I yawn. "So very long as that?" When he answers, there is a wry note in his voice. "I do have my reputation to protect.

It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.

The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.

One heart cannot serve two masters.

In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.

This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.

... while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.

If you are not careful, soon you will have men locking themselves in dungeons so that you can rescue them.

You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is a well tempered blade that is the strongest.

Do you need anything before I go? I want you to return my wits, I long to say.

Jewels can be replaced, cousin. Independence, once lost, cannot.

I am a handmaiden of Death. I walk in His dark shadow and do His bidding. Serving Him is my only purpose in this life.

The maids in my village talked of falling in love with a man at first sight. That has always seemed naught but foolishness to me. Until I enter Sister Serafina's workshop. It is unlike anything I have ever seen, full of strange sights and smells, and I tumble headlong into love.

For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the man.

It is this kindness of his that unsettles me most. I can dodge a blow or block a knife. I am impervious to poison and know a dozen ways to escape a chokehold or garrote wire. But kindness? I do not know how to defend against that.

... true faith never comes without anguish.

I bear a deep red stain that runs from my left shoulder down to my right hip, a trail left by the herbwitch's poison that my mother used to try to expel me from her womb.

He barks out a laugh. "My little rebel.

It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.

He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. "Who are you?" I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. "Vengeance," I say softly.

I stare at him coldly. "I do not care for needlework." I pause. "Unless it involves the base of the skull.

Hate cannot be fought with hate. Evil cannot be conquered by darkness. Only love has the power to conquer them both.