Prison Healer Quotes

Never apologize for loving someone. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

So you’re right, you don’t need me fighting your battles. But if you’ll let me, I’d like to be standing beside you as you fight them.

Our scars define us. They tell a story of courage and survival. They tell of who we are at our deepest being, of the challenges we've faced and overcome.

We can look at the darkness and let it consume us, or we can recognize that it’s only temporary, trusting that once it passes, the light will return,

Everyone deserves to have someone fight for them, even―and especially―when they're unable to fight for themselves.

Hope was a drug and Kiva, an addict.

Our scars define us. They tell a story of courage and survival. They tell of who we are at our deepest being, of the challenges we've faced and overcome

Small steps are still steps.

I can't change the past. But I can still be annoyed by it

Be the light in the dark.

Never forget, little mouse: no two people look the same, but we are each beautiful in our own ways. The human body is a masterpiece that deserves our respect. Always.

Not all scars are as visible as this. I daresay you have many more inside you. But never forget that every scar is beautiful. And you should never, ever be ashamed of them.

What happens now?" "Now, we dream.

I have a lot of dreams. A lot of nightmares, too. Only time will tell which path my life will take.

There is no such thing as beyond repair. You're breathing, aren't you? You're still alive--that means you can fix what you've broken.

I know for a fact that they’d live it all over again, even the ending, as long as it meant they could keep their beginning

My name is Kiva Meridan, and I claim her sentence as my own.

Life is worth living, even the parts that make us feel like we want to die.

It's a shame about the c-c-cut on his face," Tipp said. "Why's that?" Kiva murmured only half-listening. "It'll ruin his pretty face." "Pretty face or not, he's still a man, Tipp." "So?" "So", Kiva said, "most men are pigs". "I'm a man. I'm not a p-pig." "You're still young", Kiva returned. "Give it time.

Try to remember that as important as it is to mourn the dead, it's just as important to celebrate the living. And if you can't... Come and wake me. I'll battle your demons for you.

People—especially men—could react poorly if they thought their intelligence was being criticized.

For anyone who has ever wanted to give up but chose to keep going, to keep trying, to keep hoping to keep surviving: this book is for us.

You are who you choose to be. You are what you choose to be.

I know you're scared. But I promise you don't have to be.

You say you became the darkness, that it consumed you,” he said, his cobalt eyes soft on hers, “but I call bull on that. I’ve never met anyone who shines as brightly as you do.

Something on the ground caught her attention, and she clapped gleefully. “Happy kitty!” Jaren tugged her back before she could try to pet it. “That’s a dead rat.” Kiva pouted as he pulled her away. “Sad kitty.

But, Papa, the endings are the best part. Sometimes, sweetheart. But other times, the beginnings are.

offering a gentle smile to Kiva and sending a meaningful look to his cousin. “Take care of her.” “Goshdarnit, there go my plans to toss her in the Serin,” Caldon deadpanned.

I wish I could say they lived happily ever after. They did, for a time. Very happily [...] But things happen in life that you don't expect, that you can't plan for and you're helpless to stop. Their story didn't end as it should have. But I know for a fact that they'd live it all over again, even the ending, as long as it meant they could keep their beginning.

I chose you, Jaren. I will always choose you. Because I love you, and I-

We’re in this together, Sunshine. You and me. Got it?

Sometimes the people who act like they don’t care are really the ones who care the most. They feel so much that it overwhelms them, and to keep from falling apart, they hide behind easy smiles and quick laughter, acting like nothing matters. It’s a defense mechanism, a way to protect themselves from the world. A way to keep from getting hurt.

Not to mention, you were abducted by rebels, you’re living at the palace, and the crown prince looks at you like he would burn the world to keep you safe. But sure, you’re just a normal, everyday kind of girl.

She’d never held much of an interest in art, but looking at him now, her fingers itched for some paint, for some charcoal, for anything that could capture his near-perfect angles.

You once told me I was strong and powerful and I could survive anything. That I owed it to myself to find a reason to live. Now I'm telling you the same thing.

You need to stop this,” he said, smoothing her forehead again. “Keep frowning, and you’ll age thirty years in no time. Maybe forty.” She batted away his hand and deliberately deepened her frown. “That’s lovely,” he said. “Real charming.” “Have you always been this annoying?” Kiva asked. “You bring out the best in me, Sweet Cheeks.

Jaren will always find me. He might wish he'd never met me, but he'll always protect me. He can't help it. He's too good. Too pure. None of us deserve him.. Especially me.

Only fools find their happiness in others.

It helps if you have something to live for. To fight for. It grounds you, gives you a reason to get up every morning. It gives you a reason to want to survive. And sometimes, it’s the wanting that makes all the difference. Because once you give up in here”—she pointed to her heart—“then you’re already as good as dead.

If my heart didn't already belong to Jaren, I think I'd be in love with you.

When he’d shared the reason for her other nickname — Sweet Cheeks — she’d thrown something much heavier.

But things happen in life that you don’t expect, that you can’t plan for and you’re helpless to stop. Their story didn’t end as it should have.

Mother is dead. I'm on my way to Vallenia. It's time to reclaim our kingdom.

I did fall in love with a lie, but that lie was you. I fell in love with you, Kiva. I am in love with you. Then and now, nothing about that has changed — except now I know the real you.

So you’re right, you don’t need me fighting your battles.” He moved a step closer, his tone husky as he finished, “But . . . if you’ll let me, I’d like to be standing beside you as you fight them.

Trust is the first ingredient in a recipe for betrayal.

It’s for your hands,” she said. “You should’ve come to see me about them sooner.” Jaren cocked his head to the side. “Is that your way of saying you missed me?

We can look at the darkness and let it consume us, or we can recognize that it's only temporary, trusting that once it passes, the light will return.

You’re both idiots,” he grumbled into their ears. “I don’t know why I love you. Frankly, I deserve better.” He then released them to place loud, smacking kisses on first Kiva’s and then Jaren’s cheeks, before saying, “No more lovers’ spats. My poor little heart can’t take it.

But never forget that every scar is beautiful. And you should never, ever, be ashamed of them.

Please, don’t look at me like that. Don’t look at me like I’m broken.

For them, she would fight For them, she would live

Who is this Tipp I keep hearing about?” Ashlyn murmured. “Unnaturally happy kid,” Cresta said, sounding bored. “Like a little brother to Kiva, until he learned she’d been lying to him for years. Keep up, would you?

Tears blurred Kiva’s eyes, and she lunged forward to embrace Caldon, whispering in his ear, “Thank you.” “Gods, why do you always cry when you’re hugging me?” he muttered, patting her on the back. “We really have to work on that.

Who did this to you?” he asked, in that same quiet tone, but now it was brimming with something else: anger.

By the laws of the country to which we were born, I, Crestoria Vossendi Kildarion, challenge you, Navok Arakkis Kildarion, to the blood duel.

Because it was Caldon. He was paler than a corpse, his golden hair a tousled mess, but his cobalt eyes were sparkling as he drawled, “I leave you alone for a few hours, and look what happens.

But when it became an addiction, I knew I had to stop. I recognized the signs once I started craving the pain, the rush of endorfins that broke through the all-consuming numbness I felt. And I knew it wasn't healthy, knew I wouldn't be able to help anyone else if I didn't first help myself.

But things happen in life that you don’t expect, that you can’t plan for and you’re helpless to stop.

Now, we dream.

neck and into his impossibly soft hair, holding his face to hers, never wanting their kiss to end.

Do me a favor and try not to puke again,” Caldon said, gripping his swords and rising from his crouch. “With you behind me, I’ll be right in your trajectory. You’ll ruin my outfit.

I can't change the past. But I can still be annoyed by it.

Normal is tedious, it's boring. The best people are the ones with stories, the ones who have lived through things others can only imagine in their wildest dreams and their worst nightmares.

Cresta — she’s —” “A Kildarion?” Caldon said, his grin widening. “That was a delicious little secret to keep, let me tell you.” Kiva gaped at him. “You knew?” He rolled his eyes. “When are you going to realize that I know everything?

I’m s-sorry!” he cried, tilting his tearstained face back to look at her through watery blue eyes. “I’m s-s-so sorry! J-Jaren said I should f-forgive you, that you d-didn’t have a choice and you o-only lied to protect me, but I was j-just so mad! And you n-nearly drowned thinking I h-hate you! I d-don’t! I don’t hate you, K-Kiva! I couldn’t n-never

Kiva’s heart clutched at his words. Not at his threat, but because he hadn’t said anything about going with them. “Mot—” “Get outta ’ere, Kiva luv,” Mot said, his gaze softening as he looked her way, then settled on Tipp in her arms. “Give ’im a good life, yeah? Yeh both deserve to find ’appiness.

Instead of laughing as he’d intended, Kiva felt new tears well in her eyes at how he was treating her. At how normal he seemed. “No, gods, please don’t start again.” Caldon raised his hands in a pleading sign. “I don’t have anything dry left for you to snot into.

Who did this to you?

He was all that was holding her together

The Rebel Queen may have perished at Zandilov, but her daughter was alive and well, and free of Zandilov after ten long years. The Rebel Princess was finally ready to rise.

Never apologize for loving someone. Even when it hurts. Especially when it hurts.

You made me fall in love with a lie

And so, the healer and the guard worked side by side into the night, the balance of power between them blurring— and perhaps, as Kiva was beginning to realize, fading entirely.

I've never met anyone who shines as brightly as you do.

My name isn’t Brynn — it’s Ashlyn. And if you want any chance of escaping tonight, you need to listen to me.

You say you became the darkness, that it consumed you,” he said, his cobalt eyes soft on hers, “but I call bull on that. I’ve never met anyone who shines as brightly as you do.” -Caldon

Never apologize for loving someone. Even when it hurts.

So, for every person I carved, I . . .

Oriel frowned. “You called Flox fat yesterday. He’s not fat—he’s fluffy.

Careful, judgy,” Caldon said, swinging their hands like children, “or I’ll think you’re jealous.

Anything for you,” Jaren said, winking as he bent to collect the last of their things.

I l-l-love you, K-Kiva,” Tipp kept whispering, his voice fading more, as if he’d only been holding on long enough to see her one last time. “Thank y-you . . . f-f-for everything.

Whatever he saw caused his anger to bleed away, and then he sighed, long and loud, before releasing her chin only to tug her forward and pull her tight to his frame, wrapping his arms around her.

That part I didn’t know,” Cresta said. “I just lied to Tor so he’d get me out.” She flashed an unrepentant grin — the expression transforming her face enough that Kiva heard Caldon suck in a swift breath — and said, “He wasn’t very happy with me. Naughty Cresta.

Kiva has spent over half her life locked in a nightmare. The last thing I want is to make her feel like she’s trapped in another kind of cage, gilded though it might be. I have no idea what the future will bring for us, but right now she deserves the chance to live her life and follow her dreams. I can only hope she’ll grant me the honor of being by her side on that journey, and if she does, you’ll have to find a way to deal with it. I don’t think I can be any clearer than that.

Kiva shot a look at the princess. “You said it’s mostly men who it kills.” Ashlyn shrugged. “I might have fibbed a little. It’s an equal-opportunity poison.” Her silvery eyes danced as she added, “If you’d died, at least you wouldn’t have had to marry Navok. I figured you’d be happy either way.” Deadpan, Kiva said, “Please never try to help me again.

See you in a few days,” Eidran said, his only goodbye to the group — though he did meet Kiva’s eyes, then slide his gaze to Jaren, before grinning at them both. It was the first time Kiva had ever seen him smile, the expression enough to dazzle her until Jaren gave a pointed cough.

Kiva was quickly coming to understand why Serafine was so beloved; it was impossible not to be drawn to her gentle spirit and sincere kindness. What Navok considered Serafine’s weakness, Kiva considered her strength.

Don’t worry, we can write notes to each other when Edna’s not looking,” Oriel whispered to him. Ariana made a disapproving sound, and her young son sent her a sheepish look. “Um, during our break,” Oriel quickly added.

Good,” Caldon said. He then muttered, “You’d have to, after all that.” He pointed to her face. “You’re disgusting, by the way. I’ve never seen so much snot and tears in my life. You could have filled a lake.” He pulled his shirt away from his body, cringing at how damp it was. “The things I do for you.

It's not really her. It's the angeldust. She has a problem with it, sometimes takes too much. Too often. When that happens, she forgets who she is, gets confused, loses control." "My name is Kiva Meridan, and I claim her sentence as my own." "I value everything you say, Kiva.

If I end up with a cricked neck, you’re giving me a massage tomorrow,” he said, leaning his head against Tipp’s mattress, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He closed his eyes and said, “Go to sleep, Kiva.” She couldn’t keep the tears from welling this time, knowing he was only staying there for her. “Gods, don’t start crying again,” Caldon mumbled, somehow sensing her overflowing emotions, even with his eyes closed. “Come here.” He reached out blindly and drew her closer until her head rested on his shoulder, and only then did he repeat, “Sleep, Kiva.

As with the rest of the palace, the library was colored gold and white, but here the walls were made of bookshelves that rose at least three floors high, with spiraling ladders between them and balconies on each level, all looking down to the open floor that was sparse but for the numerous comfortable reading chairs. In the center of it all and stretching up to the muraled ceiling sat a massive, twisting trunk of a pale oak tree, like an ancient guardian watching over the tomes.

A gust of wind hit the top of the roof, causing her to shiver and rub her arms. Noting her reaction, Jaren removed his jacket and laid it over her shoulders. Warmth instantly seeped into her as she slid her arms into the sleeves, the comforting scent of fresh earth, sea salt, morning dew, and wood smoke tickling her nose. Earth, wind, water, and fire—a smell perfectly unique to Jaren.

delicate masks hiding some of their features better than others. Multiple luminium chandeliers sparkled from the golden ceiling, a string orchestra played from a balcony high above their heads, and at their ankles swirled a layer of misted cloud — kept in place by elemental magic, no doubt, as were the floating specks of light dotting the air, like starbursts hovering among the dancing couples. On the far side, the glass wall had been opened to a reveal a balcony beyond which the Serin lay, its surface dusted with enough luminium candles to make it sparkle brighter than the moonlight shining down on the city.

Ignorance is the world's oldest prison, fear is the world's oldest slave master, envy is the world's oldest poison, desire is the world's oldest fuel, curiosity is the world's oldest scholar, conscience is the world's oldest preacher, karma is the world's oldest judge, time is the world's oldest healer, destiny is the world's oldest prophet, truth is the world's oldest sage, courage is the world's oldest warrior, love is the world's oldest angel, joy is the world's oldest medicine, intelligence is the world's oldest professor, light is the world's oldest mirror, eternity is the world's oldest vault, knowledge is the world's oldest tree, wisdom is the world's oldest fountain, nature is the world's oldest clock, reality is the world's oldest portrait, darkness is the world's oldest curtain, stars are the world's oldest lamps, the sky is the world's oldest blanket, the Earth is the world's oldest bedroom, life is the world's oldest theatre, fate is the world's oldest conductor, people are the world's oldest actors, angels are the world's oldest spectators, and God is the world's oldest theatre owner.

This one is bigger than the other by at least a quarter,” he said. “That’s perspective,” Will replied stubbornly. “The left one is closer, so it looks bigger.” “If it’s perspective, and it’s that much bigger, your handcart would have to be about five meters wide,” Horace told him. “Is that what you’re planning?” Again, Will studied the drawing critically. “No. I thought maybe two meters. And three meters long.” He quickly sketched in a smaller version of the left wheel, scrubbing over the first attempt as he did so. “Is that better?” “Could be rounder,” Horace said. “You’d never get a wheel that shape to roll. It’s sort of pointy at one end.” Will’s temper flared as he decided his friend was simply being obtuse for the sake of it. He slammed the charcoal down on the table. “Well, you try drawing a perfect circle freehand!” he said angrily. “See how well you do! This is a concept drawing, that’s all. It doesn’t have to be perfect!” Malcolm chose that moment to enter the room. He had been outside, checking on MacHaddish, making sure the general was still securely fastened to the massive log that held him prisoner. He glanced now at the sketch as he passed by the table. “What’s that?” he asked. “It’s a walking cart,” Horace told him. “You get under it, so the spears won’t hit you, and go for a walk.” Will glared at Horace and decided to ignore him. He turned his attention to Malcolm. “Do you think some of your people could build me something like this?” he asked. The healer frowned thoughtfully. “Might be tricky,” he said. “We’ve got a few cart wheels, but they’re all the same size. Did you want this one so much bigger than the other?” Now Will switched his glare to Malcolm. Horace put a hand up to his face to cover the grin that was breaking out there. “It’s perspective. Good artists draw using perspective,” Will said, enunciating very clearly. “Oh. Is it? Well, if you say so.” Malcolm studied the sketch for a few more seconds. “And did you want them this squashed-up shape? Our wheels tend to be sort of round. I don’t think these ones would roll too easily, if at all.” Truth be told, Malcolm had been listening outside the house for several minutes and knew what the two friends had been discussing. Horace gave vent to a huge, indelicate snort that set his nose running. His shoulders were shaking, and Malcolm couldn’t maintain his own straight face any longer. He joined in, and the two of them laughed uncontrollably. Will eyed them coldly. “Oh, yes. Extremely amusing,” he said.

I am totally lost in the folds of Love, totally free of worry and care. I have passed beyond the four qualities. My heart has torn away the veil of pretense. There was a time I circled with the nine spheres, rolling with the stars across the sky. There was a time I stayed by his side— I lived in his world and he gave me everything. With the best of intentions I became a prisoner in this form. How else did I get here? What crime did I commit? But I’d rather be in a prison with my Friend than in a rosegarden all alone. I came to this world To have a sight of Joseph’s purity. Like a baby born of its mother’s womb, I was brought here with blood and tears. People think they are born only once But they have been here so many times. In the cloak of this ragged body I have walked countless paths. How many times I have worn out this cloak! With ascetics in the desert I watched night turn into day. With pagans in the temple I slept at the foot of idols. I’ve been a charlatan and a king; I’ve been a healer, and fraught with disease. I’ve been on my death-bed so many times. . . . Floating up like the clouds Pouring down like the rain. As a darvish I sought the dust of annihilation but it never touched my robe. So I gathered armfuls of roses in this faded garden of existence. I am not of wind nor fire nor of the stormy seas. I am not formed out of painted clay. I am not even Shams-e Tabriz— I am the essence of laughter, I am pure light. Look again if you see me— It’s not me you have seen!

Elide said quietly, “Marion was my mother’s name. She died defending Aelin Galathynius from her assassin. My mother bought Aelin time to run—to get away so she could one day return to save us all. My uncle, Vernon, watched and smiled as my father, the Lord of Perranth, was executed outside our castle. Then he took my father’s title and lands and home. And for the next ten years, my uncle locked me in the highest tower of Perranth Castle, with only my nursemaid for company. When I broke my foot and ankle, he did not trust healers enough to let them treat it. He kept bars on the tower windows to keep me from killing myself, and shackled my ankles to keep me from running. I left for the first time in a decade when he shoved me into a prison wagon and dragged me down to Morath. There, he made me work as a servant—for the humiliation and terror he delights in. I planned and dreamed of escaping every day. And when the time came … I took my chance. I did not know about the ilken, had only heard rumors of fell things being bred in the mountains beyond the Keep. I have no lands, no money, no army to offer Aelin Galathynius. But I will find her—and help her in whatever way I can. If only to keep just one girl, just one, from ever enduring what I did.