Rin slept inside the oakโs thought. Its own memories of weather and growth continued to hum, and like a pond, its stillness reflected back herself.
Shannon HaleIn some ways, I donโt feel as if I had a choice. Looking back at my childhood, even before I could read and write, I was making up stories. I love reading and I love telling stories, and the times in my life when Iโve tried to ignore that part of me, Iโve gone a little crazy. Characters start tugging on my sleeves, words start haunting me, and I feel generally unsatisfied. Really, being a writer sounds more like a mental illness than a professional choice.
Shannon HaleI keep thinking about a tale my nurse used to read to me about a bird whose wings are pinned to the ground. In the end, when he finally frees himself, he flies so high he becomes a star. My nurse said the story was about how we all have something that keeps us down.
Shannon HaleGerti didnโt ask for help.โ Miri swallowed and tried to calm her quavering voice. โIt was my fault.โ โSo it was. Now you all have learned that those who speak out of turn choose punishment for themselves and anyone they speak to.โ โSo if I speak to you, Tutor Olana, will you get the lashes?
Shannon Hale