Nore Quotes

Ig­nore how it feels when the on­ly re­al tal­ent you have is for hid­ing the truth.

I was meant for the purpose of betraying the High Court. Never to survive past that. If I am the cause of Lady Nore's fall, it will give me all the more pleasure for her never having anticipated it.

Curiosity leads to knowledge. Knowledge leads to understanding. Understanding leads to love. Love leads to harmony. Be curious.

She's going to want to wear your skull for a hat,' Oak warns. There is an uncomfortable shifting among the ex-falcons. Perhaps they are recalling their own choice to denounce her, their own punishment. 'And Cardan is going to laugh and laugh when she does.

I do not need a tongue for her to read the rage in my eyes.

When you inspire one person you have already changed the world.

Oak got mixed up with the wrong people, that’s all,” Jude said wearily. Cardan smiled, a curl of black hair falling in front of his face. “He’s more like you than you want to see. Clever. Ambitious.” “If what’s happening is anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” Jude said with another sigh. “For not ordering Lady Nore’s execution when I had the chance.” “All the obscene snake songs must have been greatly distracting,” Cardan said lightly, moving on from the discussion of Oak. “Generosity of spirit is so uncharacteristic in you.

So you’re saying that while my father and I were asleep, you found the reliquary—all by yourself—and then single-handedly subdued Lady Nore?” He laughs. “You might have woken me. I could have done something, surely. Applauded at the right moments? Held your bag?” I am flattered into a small smile. “So,” he asks, “what orders ought I to give the guards, now that you’re in charge?

It is not possible to be intimate with nore than very few, because there are only very few in the world with whom we have practically everything in common. There is, however, one universal basis for friendship with all men: we are all loved by God, and I should desire them all to love Him with all their power. ... the truth remains that our destiny is to love one another as Christ has loved us.

The prince doesn't even know what you are,' she says with a glance toward Oak. 'Barely one of the Folk. Nothing but a manikin, little more than the stock left behind when a changeling is taken, a thing meant to wither and die.' Despite myself, my gaze goes to Oak. To see if he understands. But I cannot read anything but pity on his face. I might be only sticks and snow and hag magic, but at least I did not come from her. I am no one's child. That makes me smile, showing red teeth.

Opet, ko zna šta će bit.', progovorim da prekinem šutnju. 'Možda steknem još bolju prijateljicu od tebe.' Ispalim to tako, brutalno iskreno, kako samo djeca mogu, ni ne sluteći koliko su riječi neobazrive. Nora ne odgovori ništa... Ali nisam ju našla. Nikad bolju prijateljicu od Nore.

Oak puts a hand on my arm. I startle. 'You all right?' he asks. 'When they first took me from the mortal world to the Court of Teeth, Lord Jarel and Lady Nore tried to be nice to me. They gave me good things to eat and dressed me in fancy dresses and told me that I was their princess and would be a beautiful and beloved queen,' I tell him, the words slipping from my lips before I can call them back. I occupy myself with searching deeper in the closet so I don't have to see his face as I speak. 'I cried constantly, ceaselessly. For a week, I wept and wept until they could bear it no more.' Oak is silent. Though he knew me as a child, he never knew me as that child, the one who still believed the world could be kind. But then, he had sisters who were stolen. Perhaps they had cried, too. 'Lord Jarel and Lady Nore told their servants to enchant me to sleep, and the servants did. But it never lasted. I kept weeping.' He nods, just a little, as though more movement might break the spell of my speaking. 'Lord Jarel came to me with a beautiful glass dish in which there was flavoured ice,' I tell him. 'When I took a bite, the flavour was indescribably delicious. It was as though I were eating dreams.' 'You will have this every day if you cease you're crying,' he said. 'But I couldn't stop. 'Then he came to me with a necklace of diamonds, as cold and beautiful as ice. When I put it on, my eyes shone, my hair sparkled, and my skin shimmered as though glitter had been poured over it. I looked wondrously beautiful. But when he told me to stop crying, I couldn't. 'Then he became angry, and he told me that if I didn't stop, he would turn my tears to glass that would cut my cheeks. And that's what he did. 'But I cried until it was hard to tell the difference between tears and blood. And after that, I began to teach myself how to break their curses. They didn't like that. 'And so they told me I would be able to see the humans again- that's what they called them, the humans- in a year, for a visit, but only if I was good. 'I tried. I choked back tears. And on the wall beside my bed, I scratched the number of days in the ice. 'One night I returned to my room to find the scratches weren't the way I remembered. I was sure it had been five months, but the scratches made it seem as though it had been only a little more than three. 'And that was when I realised I was never going home, but by then the tears wouldn't come, no matter how much I willed them. And I never cried again.' His eyes shone with horror.

Wren, you have plenty of reasons not to trust me right now, but I do intend to stop Lady Nore. And I believe we can. Though I plan on bringing back Madoc, we will still have gone a deed no one can deny was of service to Elfhame. Whatever trouble I will be in, you'll be a hero.' I am not sure anyone has considered me that, not even the people I've saved. 'And if I decide to part ways? Are you going to tie my hands and drag me along with you?' He looks at me with trickster eyes beneath arched golden brows. 'Not unless you scratch me again.' 'Why do you want to help him?' I ask. Madoc had been willing to use Oak as a path to power, at the least. 'He's my father,' he says, as though that should be enough.

...she still wears her arrogance like armour...

You are mortal. You will not last long.' ... 'That's what mortal means,' I say with a sigh that I don't have to fake. 'We die. Think of us like shooting stars, brief but bright.

No vull el lent i desvagat destí / de dar a no-res mon oci inconegut; / val més ésser esclafat i escorregut, / la sang inútil trasmudant en vi.

A healthy society begins with healthy individuals.

Madoc makes a snorting sound, then turns to me. 'I am sure that Wren here wouldn't mind taking Lady Nore's castle and lands for herself.' I shake my head at the absurdity of the statement. He raises his brows. 'No? Still sitting at the table and waiting for permission to start eating?' That's an uncomfortably accurate way of describing how I've lived my life.

I was afraid of magic from the first moment that Lady Nore and Lord Jarel stepped into my bedroom in the mortal world. And I couldn’t stop being afraid of myself. Afraid of the monster I saw when I glimpsed my reflection in still pools, in windows. But all I am is magic. Unmagic. I am not nothing. I am what is beyond nothing. Annihilation. I am the unraveler. I can pull apart magic with a thought.

...seeing the stick creatures with their bits of flesh made me all too aware of how easy it would be to harvest human parts from cities like she might take rocks from quarries, and carve armies from forests.

Much too often, our minds are used to somewhat efficiently excuse and justify old patterns, when the same energy and efforts could go towards the creating of new ones. Our society is, meanwhile, deeply enamored with technological creation, invention, and marvels. Many of these technological advancements assist with life as it is, however, the creation of new patterns of behavior and ways of life remains largely unexplored.

It is my turn to tell the fairy tale. “She made them a child of snow and sticks and droplets of blood, just as she told them she would. But she animated it with an ancient heart.” I recall enough of the Thistlewitch’s story. I glance at Bogdana. “Mab cursed you. Is that right?” The storm hag nods. “On my daughter’s blood, that I should never harm any of Mab’s line. Only Mellith could end my curse, but I could not give her new life without being asked to do so, nor could I speak of doing so without being questioned.” “You couldn’t—this can’t—” Lady Nore cannot bring herself to admit how deceived she was. “Yes,” I tell her. “I am what is left of Mellith. Me, whom you tortured and despised. Me, with more power than you’ve ever had. All at your fingertips. But you never bothered to look.” “Mellith. Mother’s curse.” Lady Nore spits the words at me. “That ought to have been your name from your making.” “Yes,” I say. “I rather think you’re right.

Oak's eyes widen satisfyingly at the sound of my voice. 'How are you speaking?' 'I used a shard of Mab's bones,' I tell him, and if I shiver a little at the memory, he cannot guess the reason. 'So you're saying that while my father and I were asleep, you found the reliquary- all by yourself- and then single-handedly subdued Lady Nore?' He laughs. 'You might have woken me. I could have done something, surely. Applauded at the right moments? Held your bag?' I am flattered into a small smile.

Do you think he will protect you now? You're useless. The heir to Elfhame has no reason to spend any further time with an untutored savage of a girl. But think, you wouldn't remember him. You wouldn't even have to remember yourself.' 'I'm not half as practical as you suppose,' Oak says. 'I like many useless things. I've been called useless myself from time to time.

Now, child, will you take the bargain and trouble me no more? Or will you force me to deal with you more harshly?” I imagine giving up. No more peering through windows, mourning the loss of a life that could never again be mine. No more hopeless desire. No more uncertain future. No more terror. Let her have Mellith’s heart and Mab’s bones. Let Elfhame rot and the Prince of Elfhame rot with it. Let her raze whatever parts of the mortal world she chooses. What would I care when I couldn’t remember any of it? I think of the Thistlewitch’s words. Nix Naught Nothing. That’s what you are. That’s what I would be. I would be cosigning everything I’ve been, all I’ve learned and done to meaninglessness. I would be accepting that I don’t matter. I spit in Lady Nore’s face. The spatter is bright with my blood against her gray skin.

No More lyrics BAKER No more questions, Please. No more tests. Comes the day you say, "What for?" Please- no more. MYSTERIOUS MAN They disappoint, They disappear, They die but they don't... BAKER What? MYSTERIOUS MAN They disappoint In turn, I fear. Forgive, though, they won't... BAKER No more riddles. No more jests. No more curses you can't undo, Left by fathers you never knew. No more quests. No more feelings. Time to shut the door. Just- no more. MYSTERIOUS MAN Running away- let's do it, Free from the ties that bind. No more depair Or burdens to bear Out there in the yonder. Running away- go to it. Where did you have in mind? Have to take care: Unless there's a "where," You'll only be wandering blind. Just more questions. Different kind. Where are we to go? Where are we ever to go? Running away- we'll do it. Why sit around, resugned? Trouble is, son, The farther you run, The more you feel undefined For what you've left undone And, nore, what you've left behind. We disappoint, We leave a mess, We die but we don't... BAKER We disappoint In turn, I guess. Forget, though, we won't... BOTH Like father, like son. BAKER No more giants Waging war. Can't we just pursue our lives With out children and our wives? 'Till that happy day arrives, How do you ignore All the witches, All the curses, All the wolves, all the lies, The false hopes, the goodbyes, The reverses, All the wondering what even worse is Still in store? All the children... All the giants... No more.

The wise old hag told them to gather up snow and form it into the shape of a daughter. 'They did this. The girl they made was delicate in form, with eyes of snow, and lips of frozen rose petals, and the sharply pointed ears of their people. When they finished sculpting her, they smiled at each other, captivated by her beauty.' ... 'When my breath blew across the girl, the spark of life lit within her, and they could see her eyelashes twitch, her tresses shiver. The child began to move. Her little limbs were slender and nearly as pale a blue as the reflection of the sky on the snow she'd been made from. Her hair, a deeper blue, like the flowers that grew nearby. Her eyes, that of the lichen that clung to rocks. Her lips, the red of that fresh-spilled blood.

Let me stay in the woods with you,' he said with a huff of breath. I imagined it. Having him share tea with me and Mr. Fox. I could show him the places to pick the sweetest blackberries. We could eat burdock and red clover and parasol mushrooms. At night we would lie on our backs and whisper together. He would tell me about the constellations, about theories of magic, and the plots of television shows he'd seen while in the mortal world. I would tell him all the secret thoughts of my heart. For a moment, it seemed possible. But eventually they would come for him, the way that Lady Nore and Lord Jarel came for me. If he was lucky, it would be his sister's guards dragging him back to Elfhame. If he wasn't, it would be a knife in the dark from one of his enemies. He did not belong here, sleeping in dirt. Scrabbling out an existence at the very edges of things. 'No,' I made myself tell him. 'Go home.' I could see the hurt in his face. The honest confusion that came with unexpected pain. 'Why?' he asked, sounding so lost that I wanted to snatch back my words. 'When you found me tied to that stake, I thought about hurting you,' I told him, hating myself. 'You are not my friend.' I do not want you here. Those are the words I ought to have said, but couldn't because they would be a lie. 'Ah,' he said. 'Well.' I let out a breath. 'You can stay the night,' I blurted out, unable to resist the temptation. 'Tomorrow, you go home. If you don't, I'll use the last favour you owe me from our game to force you. 'What if I go and come back again? he asked, trying to mask his hurt. 'You won't.' When he got home, his sisters and his mother would be waiting. They would have worried when they couldn't find him. They'd make him promise never to do anything like that again. 'You have too much honour.

En sospitar del més elemental, el pensador es veu abocat al no-res i experimenta l’horror vacui

Va ser així com em va passar pel cap la idea del suïcidi. No de penjar-me amb una corda ni de tallar-me les venes, sino de deixar passar la vida sense viure-la. De menjar sense assaborir res, de no menjar, de dormir sense estar cansada, d'estar cansada sempre i no dormir. Perquè l'apatia també és una forma de morir. De no parlar amb ningú ni veure ningú perquè a vegades l'aïllament és sinònim de mort. I no lliutar per reviure i viure en el no-res. Em va passar pel cap la idea del no-jo com a suïcidi i vaig a estar a punt de caure-hi.

I refute any notion of relativism, little man -- which you'd know had you bothered reading those notes. The structures of a culture do not circumvent nore excuse self-evident injustice or inequity. The status quo is not sacred, not an altar to paint in rivers of blood. Tradition and habits are not sound arguments... ~ Janath Anar

Avui les fades i les bruixes s'estimen Avui, sabeu? les fades i les bruixes s'estimen. Han canviat entre elles escombres i varetes. I amb cucurull de nit i tarot de poetes endevinen l'enllà, on les ombres s'animen. És que han begut de l'aigua de la Font dels Lilàs i han parlat amb la terra, baixet, arran d'orella. Han ofert al no-res foc de cera d'abella i han aviat libèl·lules per desxifrar-ne el traç. Davallen a la plaça en revessa processó, com la serp cargolada entorn de la pomera, i enceten una dansa, de punta i de taló. Jo, que aguaito de lluny la roda fetillera, esbalaïda veig que vénen cap a mi i em criden perquè hi entri. Ullpresa, els dic que sí.

You can not teach art, it's not to be taught, but felt and lived, or else it is naught.

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Quan ja no hi eren, va tornar a posar l'esquena sobre la façana de l'església, va encendre's un cigarro nou i va recuperar un pensament antic: que no és possible passar d'alguna cosa al no-res, que tampoc ho és passar del no-res a alguna cosa i que, per tant, l'univers ha de ser un murmuri constant.

Bon dia, lector amic, futur cadàver, futur no-res! Sit tibi terra levis!

Admit perceived flaws, perceived faults, admit everything. Everything is darker, heavier, and more burdensome when it is veiled and concealed. The revealing of these little flaws and burdens creates room for freedom, room for a development. It definitely doesn’t guarantee any progress, but it makes it possible.

A vague concept is infinitely more powerful than a concrete, specific one. Infinitely, because there is no telling how far its power can extend in the hands, or rather the lips, of a good speaker!

The exuberant focus on this one speck of beauty, human outward appearance, cultivates an aloofness to all the other beauty we are surrounded with. Thus, it promotes acute mental shortsightedness.

To forgive is to set oneself free from the echo of a pain.

o vaig comprendre molt d'hora que una vida transcorre en un no-res de temps, en mirar els adults al meu voltant, tan afanyats, tan estressats pel termini, tan desitjosos de l'ara per no pensar en demà... Però si tens por de l'endemà és perquè no saps construir el present, i quan no saps construir el present et contes que demà podràs i l'has fumut perquè demà acaba sempre convertint-se en avui, ¿ho veieu? - Paloma Josse

Al cap d’un temps acabes descobrint que el límit es deixa viure, vertical com mai, a frec del no-res, i que no només és possible habitar-hi sinó que també s’hi pot créixer de maneres diferents. Si del que es tracta és de sobreviure, la resistència pot ser que sigui l’única forma de viure intensament. És ara, en aquest límit, que em sento viva, viva com mai.

The ability to ask questions is a virtue and a trait of a free thinker.

In faith, I do not love thee with mine eyes, For they in thee a thousand errors nore; But 'tis my heart that loves what they despise." —Shakespeare