Pierce Brown Quotes

Home isn't where you're from, it's where you find light when all grows dark.

You do not follow me because I am the strongest. Pax is. You do not follow me because I am the brightest. Mustang is. You follow me because you do not know where you are going. I do.

I would have lived in peace. But my enemies brought me war.

Man cannot be freed by the same injustice that enslaved it.

There is no greater plague to an introvert than the extrovert.

Friendships take minutes to make, moments to break, years to repair.

The measure of a man is what he does when he has power.

I will die. You will die. We will all die and the universe will carry on without care. All that we have is that shout into the wind - how we live. How we go. And how we stand before we fall.

Funny thing, watching gods realize they’ve been mortal all along.

I am the Reaper and death is my shadow.

Liars make the best promises.

Love and war are two different battlefields.

A man thinks he can fly, but he is afraid to jump. A poor friend pushes him from behind.” He looks up at me. “A good friend jumps with.

Wise men read books about history. Strong men write them.

I live for the dream that my children will be born free. That they will be what they like. That they will own the land their father gave them.' 'I live for you,' I say sadly. She kisses my cheek. 'Then you must live for more.

Funny how a single word can change everything in your life." "It is not funny at all. Steel is power. Money is power. But of all the things in all the worlds, words are power.

It's not victory that makes a man. It's his defeats.

Forget a man’s name and he’ll forgive you. Remember it, and he’ll defend you forever.

Break the chains, my love.

He always thinks because I’m reading, I’m not doing anything. There is no greater plague to an introvert than the extroverted.

Sharpened by hate. Strengthened by love.

She is something new, something hopeful. Like spring to my deep winter.

You're a sinister little shit, aren't you?" Victra asks. "I'm Gold, bitch. What'd you expect? Warm milk and cookies just because I'm pocket sized?

justice isn’t about fixing the past, it’s about fixing the future. We’re not fighting for the dead. We’re fighting for the living. And for those who aren’t yet born.

Bye, Felicia.

Personally, I do not want to make you a man. Men are so very frail. Men break. Men die. No, I’ve always wished to make a god.

Hic sunt leones. Here be lions.

You and I keep looking for light in the darkness, expecting it to appear. But it already has.” I touch his shoulder. “We’re it, boyo. Broken and cracked and stupid as we are, we’re the light, and we’re spreading.

If your heart beats like a drum, and your legs a little wet, it’s because the Reaper’s come to collect a little debt.

I'm a sheep wearing wolves' clothing in a pack of wolves.

Without me, she would not eat. Without her, I would not live.

Rise so high, in mud you lie.

Man is no island. We need those who love us. We need those who hate us. We need others to tether us to life, to give us a reason to live, to feel.

I will love you until the sun dies. And when it does, I will love you in the darkness.

The Reaper has come. And he’s brought hell with him.

Promises are just chains," she rasps. "Both are meant for breaking.

They say a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. They made no mention of the heart.

Everyone's honest till they're caught in a lie.

We grew together, and now are grown. In her eyes, I see my heart. In her breath, I hear my soul. She is my land. She is my kin. My love.

We are not our station in life. We are us - the sum of what we've done, what we want to do, and the people who we keep close.

A fool pulls the leaves. A brute chops the trunk. A sage digs the roots.

In war, men lose what makes them great. Their creativity. Their wisdom. Their joy. All that’s left is their utility.

You meet a man, you know him. You meet a woman, she knows you.

You know a people have given up when they stop teaching their children.

Look into yourself, Darrow, and you’ll realize that you are a good man who will have to do bad things.".... “See. That’s what I don’t get. If I am a good man, then why do I want to do bad things?

What is pride without honor? What is honor without truth? Honor is not what you say. It is not what you read.” Romulus thumps his chest. “Honor is what you do.

I am Cassius Bellona, son of Tiberius, son of Julia, brother of Darrow, Morning Knight of the Solar Republic, and my honor remains.

Tactics win battles. Strategy wins wars," I say. "Oooo. I am Reaper. God of wolves. King of strategy." Mustang pinches my cheek. "You are just too adorable.

If this is the end, I will rage toward it.

If you're a fox, play the hare. If you're the hare, play the fox.

My love, my love Remember the cries When winter died for spring skies They roared and roared But we grabbed our seed And sowed a song Against their greed And Down in the vale Hear the reaper swing, the reaper swing the reaper swing Down in the vale Hear the reaper sing A tale of winter done My son, my son Remember the chains When gold ruled with iron reins We roared and roared And twisted and screamed For ours, a vale of better dreams

In the face of cold power, she is fire.

I am no martyr. I am not vengeance. I am Eo's dream.

Death is easy when you've already tried to find it.

'I killed their pack leader,' Sevro says when I ask why the wolves follow him. He looks me up and down and flashes me an impish grin from beneath the wolf pelt. 'Don't worry, I wouldn't fit in your skin.'

You! Troll!" Sevro shouts. "I'm a terrorist warlord! Stop throwing me. You made me drop by candy!

For seven hundred years, my people have been enslaved without voice, without hope. Now I am their sword. And I do not forgive. I do not forget. So let him lead me onto his shuttle. Let him think he owns me. Let him welcome me into his house, so I might burn it down.

They pushed and pushed for so long. They knew I was something dangerous, something different. Sooner or later, they had to know I would snap and come to cut them down. Or perhaps they think I'm still a child. The fools. Alexander was a child when he ruined his first nation.

And what is the bloodydamn point of surviving in this cold world if I run from the only warmth it has to offer?

Life is meant to be felt. Else why live? Valleys make the mountains.

If you're watching, Eo, it's time to close your eyes. The Reaper has come. And he's brought hell with him.

He always thinks because I'm reading, I'm not doing anything. There is no greater plague to an introvert than the extroverted.

Well, here I am, you deviant bitch. Here I bloody am. The motherfucking consequence.

It takes more to hope than to remember.

Let him think he owns me. Let him welcome me into his house, so I might burn it down.

This is always how the story would end,” he says to me. “Not with your screams. Not with your rage. But with your silence.

Everything is cracked, everything is stained except the fragile moments that hang crystalline in time and make life worth living.

All wounds heal. Even these." "That's a lie." I tell him. I'll never be healed of Eo. That pain will last forever. "Some things do not fade. Some things can never be made right.

In a storm, you don't tie two boats together. They'll drag each other down.

Our lives mean so much more than the frail bodies that carry them.

I’m a bloodydamn Helldiver with an army of giant, mildly psychotic women behind me and a fleet of state-of-the-art warships crewed by pissed-off pirates, engineers, techs, and former slaves.

I will give Eo your love. I will make a house for you in the Vale of your fathers. It will be beside my own. Join me there when you die.” He grins. “But I am no builder. So take your time. We will wait.

How many mothers have prayed to see their sons, their daughters return from war only to realize the war has kept them, the world has poisoned them, and they’ll never be the same?

Tradition is the crown of the tyrant.

There is a flower that grows on Mars. It is red and harsh and fit for our soil. It is called haemanthus. It means “blood blossom.

I am not alone. I am not his victim. So let him do his worst. I am the Reaper. I know how to suffer. I know the darkness.

We’re all just wounded souls stumbling about in the dark, desperately trying to stitch ourselves together, hoping to fill the holes they ripped in us.

Shit escalates

Tell all who will hear, the Reaper sails to Mars. And he calls for an Iron Rain.

And I wonder, in my last moments, if the planet does not mind that we wound her surface or pillage her bounty, because she knows we silly warm things are not even a breath in her cosmic life. We have grown and spread, and will rage and die. And when all that remains of us is our steel monuments and plastic idols, her winds will whisper, her sands will shift, and she will spin on and on, forgetting about the bold, hairless apes who thought they deserved immortality.

You asked, what do I fear? I fear a man who believes in good. For he can excuse any evil.

A new wound can take a body. Opening an old one can claim a soul.

In a world of killers, it takes more to be kind than to be wicked.

Manage your temper" he reminds me, his small voice darkening. "Manners, manners, then burn their bloodydamn house to the ground.

All that we have is that shout into the wind--how we live. How we go. And how we stand before we fall. --Karnus Au Bellona

Home isn’t where you’re from, it’s where you find light when all grows dark.

I learn more when I make mistakes, so long as they don’t kill me.

I look at him for a moment. Words are a weapon stronger than he knows. And songs are even greater. The words wake the mind. The melody wakes the heart. I come from a people of song and dance. I don’t need him to tell me the power of words. But I smile nonetheless.

I know it may be impossible to believe now, when everything is dark and broken, but you will survive this pain, little one. Pain is a memory. You will live and you will struggle and you will find joy. And you will remember your family from this breath to your dying days, because love does not fade. Love is the stars, and its light carries on long after death.

Sometimes I wonder if he were raised a Red and I a Gold if he wouldn't have ended up a better man than I am now, and I a worse man than he ever could be. For some reason I think I could have been capable of great evil.

Sevro." I lean forward. "Your eyes..." He leans in close. "Do you like 'em?" "Bloodydamn. Did you get Carved?" "By the best in the business. Do you like 'em?" "They're bloodydamn marvelous. Fit you like a glove." He punches his hands together. "Glad you said that. Cuz they're yours." I blanch. "What?" "They're yours." "My what?" "Your eyes!" "My eyes..." "Do you want the eyes back?" Sevro asks, suddenly worried. "I can give them back." "No!" I say. "It's just I forgot how crazy you are." "Oh." He laughs and slaps my shoulder. "Good. I thought it might be something serious. So I'm prime keeping them?" "Finders keepers," I say with a shrug.

I thought being a man was having control. Being the master and commander of your own destiny. How could any boy know that freedom is lost the moment you become a man. Things start to count. To press in. Constricting slowly, inevitably, creating a cage of inconveniences and duties and deadlines and failed plans and lost friends.

I can trust you." "How do you know?" she says again. This is when I kiss her. I cannot give her the haemanthus. That is my heart, and it is of Mars- one of the only things born from the red soil. And it is still Eo's. But this girl, when they took her... I would have done anything to see her smirking again. Perhaps one day I'll have two hearts to give.

In another life, you would have been one of my sons, Darrow. I would have found you earlier, before whatever happened that filled you with this rage. I would not have raised you to be a great man. There is no peace for great men. I would have had you be a decent one. I would have given you the quiet strength to grow old with the woman you love.

Now I am their sword. And I do not forgive. I do not forget. So let him lead me onto his shuttle. Let him think he owns me. Let him welcome into his house, so I might burn it down. But then his daughter takes my hand, and I feel all the lies fall heavy on my shoulders. They say a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand. They made no mention of the heart.

As the sun shines low and red across the water, I wade into the ocean. The water is still high and brown and murky with the memory of the storm, so if there’s something below it, I won’t know it. But that’s part of this, the not knowing. The surrender to the possibilities beneath the surface. It wasn’t the ocean that killed my father, in the end. The water is so cold that my feet go numb almost at once. I stretch my arms out to either side of me and close my eyes. I listen to the sound of water hitting water. The raucous cries of the terns and the guillemots in the rocks of the shore, the piercing, hoarse questions of the gulls above me. I smell seaweed and fish and the dusky scent of the nesting birds onshore. Salt coats my lips, crusts my eyelashes. I feel the cold press against my body. The sand shifts and sucks out from under my feet in the tide. I’m perfectly still. The sun is red behind my eyelids. The ocean will not shift me and the cold will not take me.

Strigoi have red eyes, " I explained. "Do his eyes look red?" The boy leaned forward. "No. They're brown. " "What else do you know about Strigoi?" I asked. "They have fangs like us, " the boy replied. "Do you have fangs?" I asked Dimitri in a singsong voice. I had a feeling this was already-covered territory, but it took on a new feel when asked from a child's perspective. Dimitri smiled--a full, wonderful smile that caught me off guard. "Okay, Jonathan, " said his mother anxiously. "You asked. Let's go now. " "Strigoi are super strong, " continued Jonathan, who possibly aspired to be a future lawyer. "Nothing can hurt them. " Jonathan fixed Dimitri with a piercing gaze. "Are you super strong? Can you be hurt?" "Of course I can, " replied Dimitri. "I'm strong, but all sorts of things can still hurt me. " And then, being Rose Hathaway, I said something I really shouldn't have to the boy. "You should go punch him and find out. " Jonathan's mother screamed again, but he was a fast little bastard, eluding her grasp. He ran up to Dimitri before anyone could stop him--well, I could have--and pounded his tiny fist against Dimitri's knee. Then, with the same reflexes that allowed him to dodge enemy attacks, Dimitri immediately feinted falling backward, as though Jonathan had knocked him over. Clutching his knee, Dimitri groaned as though he were in terrible pain. Several people laughed, and by then, one of the other guardians had caught hold of Jonathan and returned him to his near-hysterical mother. As he was being dragged away, Jonathan glanced over his shoulder at Dimitri. "He doesn't seem very strong to me. I don't think he's a Strigoi. " This caused more laughter

My chair rolls to a stop. his voice cut short, followed by a thump and sliding sound. My wheelchair rolls forward again. I look back and see Ragnar pushing it innocently along. Sevro isn't in the hallway behind us. I frown, wondering where he went, till he bursts out of a side passage. "You! Troll!" Sevro shouts. "I'm a terrorist warlord! Stop throwing me. You made me drop my candy!" Sevro looks at the floor of the hallway. "Wait. Where is it? Dammit, Ragnar. Where is my peanut bar? You know how many people I had to kill to get that? Six! Six!" Ragnar chews quietly above me, and though I'm probably mistaken, I think I see him smile.

Death isn't empty like you say it is. Emptiness is life without freedom, Darrow. Emptiness is living chained by fear, fear of loss, of death. I say we break those chains. Break the chains of fear and you break the chains that bind us to the Golds, to the Society. Could you imagine it? Mars could be ours. It could belong to the colonists who slaved here, died here." Her face is easier to see as the night fades through the clear roof. It is alive, on fire. "If you led the others to freedom. The things you could do, Darrow. The things you could make happen." She pauses and I see her eyes are glistening. "It chills me. You have been given so, so much, but you set your sights so low." "You repeat the same damn points," I say bitterly. "You think a dream is worth dying for. I say it isn't. You say it's better to die on your feet. I say it's better to live on our knees." "You're not even listening!" she snaps. "We are machine men with machine minds, machine lives …" "And machine hearts?" I ask. "That's what I am?" "Darrow …" "What do you live for?" I ask her suddenly. "Is it for me? Is it for family and love? Or is it just for some dream?" "It's not just some dream, Darrow. I live for the dream that my children will be born free. That they will be what they like. That they will own the land their father gave them." "I live for you," I say sadly. She kisses my cheek. "Then you must live for more.

what love looks like what does love look like the therapist asks one week after the breakup and i’m not sure how to answer her question except for the fact that i thought love looked so much like you that’s when it hit me and i realized how naive i had been to place an idea so beautiful on the image of a person as if anybody on this entire earth could encompass all love represented as if this emotion seven billion people tremble for would look like a five foot eleven medium-sized brown-skinned guy who likes eating frozen pizza for breakfast what does love look like the therapist asks again this time interrupting my thoughts midsentence and at this point i’m about to get up and walk right out the door except i paid too much money for this hour so instead i take a piercing look at her the way you look at someone when you’re about to hand it to them lips pursed tightly preparing to launch into conversation eyes digging deeply into theirs searching for all the weak spots they have hidden somewhere hair being tucked behind the ears as if you have to physically prepare for a conversation on the philosophies or rather disappointments of what love looks like well i tell her i don’t think love is him anymore if love was him he would be here wouldn’t he if he was the one for me wouldn’t he be the one sitting across from me if love was him it would have been simple i don’t think love is him anymore i repeat i think love never was i think i just wanted something was ready to give myself to something i believed was bigger than myself and when i saw someone who probably fit the part i made it very much my intention to make him my counterpart and i lost myself to him he took and he took wrapped me in the word special until i was so convinced he had eyes only to see me hands only to feel me a body only to be with me oh how he emptied me how does that make you feel interrupts the therapist well i said it kind of makes me feel like shit maybe we’re looking at it wrong we think it’s something to search for out there something meant to crash into us on our way out of an elevator or slip into our chair at a cafe somewhere appear at the end of an aisle at the bookstore looking the right amount of sexy and intellectual but i think love starts here everything else is just desire and projection of all our wants needs and fantasies but those externalities could never work out if we didn’t turn inward and learn how to love ourselves in order to love other people love does not look like a person love is our actions love is giving all we can even if it’s just the bigger slice of cake love is understanding we have the power to hurt one another but we are going to do everything in our power to make sure we don’t love is figuring out all the kind sweetness we deserve and when someone shows up saying they will provide it as you do but their actions seem to break you rather than build you love is knowing who to choose