Beasts Of Eld Quotes

The man was hit in one eye by a stone, and that eye turned inward so that it looked into his mind, and he died of what he saw there

You can weave your life so long -- only so long, and then a thing in the world out of your control will tug at one vital thread and leave you patternless and subdued.

What do you think love is- a thing to startle from the heart like a bird at every shout or blow? You can fly from me, high as you choose into your darkness, but you will see me always beneath you, no matter how far away, with my face turned to you. My heart is in your heart. I gave it to you with my name that night and you are its guardian, to treasure it, or let it whither and die. I do not understand you. I am angry with you. I am hurt and helpless, but nothing will fill the ache of the hollowness in me where your name would echo if I lost you.

Shall I add a man to my collection?

The giant Grof was hit in one eye by a stone, and that eye turned inward so that it looked into his mind, and he died of what he saw there. -Cyrin

I thought of you with your hair silver as snow all through that cold, slow journey from Sirle. I felt you troubled deep within me, and there was no other place in the world I would rather have been than in the cold night riding to you. When you opened your gates to me, I was home.

Be patient, as you must always be patient with new pale seeds buried in the dark ground. When you are stronger, you can begin to think again. But now is the time to feel.

I wish you were small again, so I could hold you in my arms and comfort you. But you are grown, and you know that for some things there is no comfort.

I need you to forgive me. And then perhaps I can begin to forgive myself. There is no one but you who can do that either.

But you had a right to be angry.” “Yes. But not to hurt those I love, or myself.

A net of words, he said at last, is more powerful than a net of rope.

Soon is such a long word.

You--cannot ever be certain of those you love--that they will not hurt you, even loving you. But to make me certain to love you, will be to take away any love I might give you freely.

She was a sweet, warm wind in my heart, a resting place, a place of peace where I could forget so many things . . .

Oh...if you were older...It is not a bad thing, itself, but it is a bad thing to be used by men, to have them choose what you must be, and what you must not be, to have little choice in your life. If you were older, you could choose your own way.

You can weave your life so long—only so long, and then a thing in the world out of your control will tug at one vital thread and leave you patternless and subdued.

The giant Grof was hit in one eye by a stone, and that eye turned inward so that it looked into his mind and he died of what he saw there.

Be gentle with yourself, my white one. Come with me tomorrow through the forest; we will gather black mushrooms and herbs that, crushed against the fingers, give a magic smell. You will feel the sun on your hair and the rich earth beneath your feet, and the fresh winds scented with the spice of snow from the hidden places on Eld Mountain. Be patient, as you must always be patient with new pale seeds buried in the dark ground. When you are stronger, you can begin to think again. But now is the time to feel.

Sybel, you went from me like a dream, so silently, so irrevocably—I could not bear it, I could not bear it—

He ran from her suddenly, swift and quiet like a mountain cat among the high peeks of Eld mountain. She watched him dive in among the trees, and the autumn winds shoke suddenly at his heels. She sad down on a fallen trunk and dropped her head among the knees. A great soft warmth shiled her from the wind, and she looked up and saw into Gules Lyons quiet, golden eyes. What is it, white one? She knelt suddenly and flung his arms around the great mane, and burried her face against him. I wish that I had wings and could fly and fly and never come back. What has troubled you, Orams powerful child? What can trouble you? What can such a small one as Coren of Sirle say to touch you? For a long moment she did not answer. And then she said, her fingers tight around the gold tangeled fur. He has taken my heart and offered it back to me. And I thought he was harmless.

Can you call a man?” “If I choose to,” she said, surprised. “I have never done it.” “Then if you ever have anything to fear from any man who comes here, will you call me? I will come. Whatever I am doing will remain undone, and I will come to you. Will you?” “But why? You know I will do nothing for you. Why would you ride all the way from Sirle to help me?” He looked at her silently. Then he shrugged, the snow melting in his fiery hair. “I do not know. Because. Will you?” “If I need you, I will call.” He loosed her hand, smiling. “And I will come.” “But I probably will not. Anyway, if I want you, I can call you, and you will come without choice.” He sighed. He said patiently, “I choose to come. It makes a difference.” “Does it?” Then her eyes curved slightly in a smile. “Go home to your world of the living, Coren. That is where you belong. I can take care of myself.” “Perhaps.” He gathered the reins in his hands, turned his mount toward the road that wound downward to Mondor. Then he looked back at her, his eyes the color of clear mountain water. “But one day you will find out how good it is to have someone who chooses to come when you call.

You can weave your life so long—only so long,” Coren says to Sybel, “and then a thing in the world out of your control will tug at one vital thread and leave you patternless and subdued.

Coren’s arms tightened around the child. “It is Norrel’s son—it is not an animal.

I will not draw Coren into the whirlpool of my anger and hatred. No revenge of his making could satisfy me, and it is purposeless involving him in mine. I want– I want t keep him free of hate. He– the night we flew the Dragon, we dropped downward suddenly, rushing toward darkness as though toward the endless deep of the night, blind, helpless, as you are when there is nothing left of you but the unhidden centre of yourself– and from the core of him came a living, joyous laughter. Lost in his own hate for Drede, he could not have laughed like that. He may fight in this war simply because if he refused to fight for my sake and you died at battle, he would never forgive himself for not being with you. But I will give him no great cause to fight for. I will not drag him through his grief and bitterness again. He has given me so much love. At least I can give him that one protection.

Leave one small place for freedom in my mind.’ ‘To love?’ She lifted her eyes. ‘To hate,’ she whispered. Her fingers circled the cup, kneading the wrought silver. ‘In that one small corner I could breed such a hate that would tear Eldwold apart stone by stone and leave a wasteland for the Sirle Lords to bicker over for centuries. I would bring that King to his knees as he brought me to mine.

Let us sail home through the sky on Gyld. Sybel, there must be a silence deeper than the silence of Eld between those stars; shall we go listen to it? Come. We will throw all the stars into Sirle, then go and dance on the moon.

I wish you were small again, so I could hold you in my arms and comfort you. But you are grown, and you know that for some things there is no comfort.’ ‘Oh, I know. But Sybel– sometimes I am not that grown.’ She smiled and drew him against her. ‘Neither am I.

There is a part of me, like a white-winged falcon, free, proud, wild, a souring thing that goes its own way seeking the bright stars and the sun. If you kill that white bird, I will be earthbound, bound in the patterns of men, with no words of my own, no actions of my own. I will take that bird for you, cage it. Only let it live.

Drede would not have let me come, and I wanted to see you, to know – to know that you – that you still–‘ She smiled. ‘That I still love you, my Tam?’ she whispered. He nodded, his mouth crooking a little ruefully. ‘I still have to know, Sybel.’ He rubbed his face wearily. ‘Sometimes I am still a child.

No,’ she whispered. ‘Only that all my joy will be gone from the earth if you are killed in this war. Coren, perhaps the Lion is not dreaming. Perhaps Rok is right and Sirle will defeat Drede, and no one will be killed.’ He shook his head, his face pained, hopeless. ‘Sybel, men will die; perhaps not my brothers, but men of Sirle. At Terbrec, I heard their broken, weary voices weeping of their wounds while I fought, until I did not know anymore, in the dust, heat and blinding leap of metal, if they were truly men’s voices, or the broken, crying voices of my own thoughts that could never again be coherent. It will be the same thing all over again, now.

The giant Grof was hit in one eye by a stone, and that eye turned inward so that it looked into his mind, and he died of what he saw there

This bond I draw between you: that though you are parted in mind or in body, there will be a call in the core of you, one to the other, that nothing, no one else will answer to. By the secrets of earth and water, this bond is woven, unbreakable, irrevocable; by the law that created fire and wind this call is set in you, in life and beyond life . . .

I saw a man once leap into a pit to see how deep it was, he commented. But no doubt you are wiser.

Where did you go?” “To Mirkon Forest. I sat tossing a stone in my hand and learned nothing at all from it. Wine?