Rae Carson Quotes

I think sometimes when we find love we pretend it away, or ignore it, or tell ourselves we’re imagining it. Because it is the most painful kind of hope there is.

I love you the way a drowning man loves air. And it would destroy me to have you just a little.

Honor from death,” I snap, “is a myth. Invented by the war torn to make sense of the horrific. If we die, it will be so that others may live. Truly honorable death, the only honorable death, is one that enables life.

I know you hate me. But don't let that make you stupid.

From the mouths of the innocents flows truth.

I don’t care if it’s Twilight or Fifty Shades or War and Peace - Never let someone make you ashamed of what you love to read!

You look beautiful," Alodia says. I startle at the compliment. Then I smile. "I’m beautiful to the one person who matters." She nods. "Hector’s mouth is going to drop open when he sees you.” “I hope so. But I meant me. I’m beautiful to me.

A word is the only thing in the world made more powerful by absence than existence.

A quarterstaff is not very subtle. Or handy. If an kidnapper comes at me, what am I supposed to do? Say, 'Excuse me, my lord, while I pull my enormous quarterstaff out of my bodice?

God's will. How many times have I heard someone declare their understanding of this thing I find so indefinable?

Given a choice between my life and yours, I will choose mine. Every time. Without hesitation.

Yes, I love him. Enough to follow him anywhere.

I lie awake for a long time, wondering which would be more foolish, to prepare for something that may never happen, or not to prepare for something that might.

I am strong enough, man enough, to be subject to you.

Sometimes it's best to let your opponent think he has control.

I loved and lost and survived.

The mind of God is a mystery and none can understand it.

I love you, too," he whispers in my ear. "Wholly. Madly." "Does that mean you'll marry me?" "I suppose.

Peace is such hard work. Harder than war. It takes way more effort to forgive than to kill.

You made me cut and dye my hair.” Surely he understands that we face greater problems? “I thought it would greatly improve your looks,” I snap. “Shorn hair is a sign of shame. You humiliate me greatly.” “I’ll light a candle tonight in honor of your dead tresses.

Walking away from my desert companions feels like cutting off a limb. How does one say good-bye to an arm? One doesn't, I suppose. One pretends it isn't happening.

It is human nature to concoct explanations to fill the great void of the unknown.

Mara hurries over and takes my hands. "Er, congratulations on your pending nuptials?" I whisper, "He'll be so angry when he learns I have engaged us without his knowledge.

Rosario is safe. You were supposed to outlive me. Elisa is ten times the ruler you were. I've stolen your wife. I'm not sorry. I miss you.

Promise me you'll live," he insists. "Because when this is all over, we must discuss how you sometimes kiss me to shut me up, and how I'll no longer stand for it.

It would destroy me to have you just a little

If I were an enemy, and I started bearing down on you like this," he draws his sword, stretches the tip towards me, takes a single step in my direction, "what would you do?" Possibilities race through my head. Should I look for a weapon? Dodge and come up behind his guard? Trip him? Insult his mother?

No, no." I motion vaguely. "Relax. Don't look so... guardlike." They drop formation at once, glancing at one another shamefaced. Hector draped an arm around my shoulder as if we were out for a companionable stroll. He leans down and says, "So. Horrible heat we've been having lately.

I want to feel the victory of being desired by someone I once found desirable.

He has the look of a mighty mind, whose thoughts spin hidden beneath the impassive surface.

He studies me thoughtfully. "You are a beautiful queen, Elisa," he says voice pitched low. I never expected he would say such a thing. "A month or two of pastries will fix that," I say. Then I smile to show him I mean it flippantly. His expression does not change. "Even then.

The fifth place is for Hector.

Painting the enemy as being as inhuman as possible is a great way to win a war.

I won't lie to you. There is always a cost. All I can gurantee is that it will be the right thing." "It's insane," he says, but without vehemence. "It's faith," I say.

Belén shrugs. "It's a perfect plan." "As easy as falling in love," Mara adds. "Foolproof," Hector agrees. I don't deserve such friends. I blink against the sting of threatening tears and say, "All you Joyans are filthy liars.

Men can be relentless," she agrees, "when they think a woman belongs to them.

You must not lose faith, child. No matter what. Do not doubt God or his choosing of you. He knows infinitely more than we can imagine.

I need to marry Hector

But none of it will be real. None of them will want me. My throne, yes. Prestige. A conquest. But not me.

Gently, I reach forward and close her eyes with my fingertips, hoping it will make her seem merely asleep. But the stillness of sleep is nothing at all like the stillness of death.

Seems like I’ve been waiting for you to come around my whole life, Lee. But a man can’t wait forever and stay a man.

It's nice to consider that God may not count imperfection as an obstacle to working out his will in the world.

Storm leans towards her and says in a teaching voice, "Joyans consider it is rude to express one's true opinion unless it is unequivocally flattering." Her brow furrows. "Then how do the express anything at all?

But you and I - " he brushes the collar of the gown aside - "are students of knowledge. We believe in careful practice to attain perfection.

...alone is such a nebulous state when one is queen.

Lord-commander, I won't pretend to love her the way you do. But I do owe her my life and my honour. I am Joyan now. And we are, all of us, filthy liars.

I will not pretend weakness. Not ever, not for anyone.

She grabs my hand and squeezes. Then she looks me up and down, frowning. "You're disgusting." "I dressed to commemorate the time you dragged me through the desert.

He doesn’t love me yet, but in this place of death, in this precious moment of shared relief, he holds me.

The less you say, the more your words will matter.

His Majesty, may he live forever and prosper greatly... His Majesty, may sun finches warble sweet melodies in his ear... His Majesty, may orchids bloom in the wake of his passing... His Majesty, may minstrels compose epics at the sound of his glorious name... His Majesty, may his magnificent sword shatter the breasts of his enemies...

You do realise, don't you, that I was present during the assassination attempt?

That queen of yours played me like a vihuela, didn't she?

It’s the highest art form, deceiving without lying. A word is the only thing in the world made more powerful by absence than existence.

Cosmé is in constant attendance. Though no one will take Aneaxi’s place, Cosmé is the most efficient maid I’ve ever had. I tell her so, frequently, and it gives me such a twist of pleasure to watch her react to praise from someone she despises. The Scriptura Sancta calls it “the fire of kindness.

Don't be daft, I love you." He grins, "You've never said.

I knew someday you would realize your worth. Your worthiness.' I shake my head. 'Oh Ximena, he was right to choose me but not becuase of my worth...You, Cosme, Hector...were already willing to be heroes. But I would have done nothing, become nothing, were it not for this thing inside me. So you see, God picked me becuase I was unworthy.

Has not God chosen those who are pained in this world to inherit his paradise? For it is through suffering we understand our need for his righteous right hand. Indeed, our spiritual needs outweigh our physical ones. Blessed be the name of God.

You faced him down like a seasoned warrior," he [Hector] says. "Only because I had your daggers at my back.

I almost panic then. The pleasure-power feeling flees, replaced by humiliation. It's obvious my husband doesn't recognize his own wife. Yet even in this public place, he can't be bothered to hide his admiration for a woman that he finds attractive. He used to stare at me so intently, like I was the only thing in the world. Have I changed so much? Or maybe that mesmerizing gaze was just a weapon in his arsenal of appeal. Maybe he never actually saw. Anger carries me the remaining distance. He is the one who should feel grimy with shame, not me.

How do women all know what to do with babies? It's like they have their own special kind of sorcery.

I hadn't realized having ones life saved could be so humiliating.

Hector!” He whips around. “You were never, never, going to be just a diversion to me.” He sighs, nodding. “That was unfair of me,” he says. “I’m sorr—” “And you will kiss me again. That and more. Count on it.

Blessed is he who walks the path of God. He shall stray neither to the left nor the right, for the righteous right hand guides him for all days.

May I document your recovery? It's such a devastating and fascinating injury.

Lying isn't going to make you into a hero.

Just thinking about her makes you shine with her fire.

Mara leans over and whispers in my ear, “I know you’re charmingly naive when it comes to matters of the heart, but you just stopped him in his tracks.

For love is more beautiful than rubies, sweeter than honey, finer than the king’s wine. And no one has greater love than he who gives his own life for a friend. My love is like perfume poured out—

Weren't you scared?" I ask. "Yes. But it was a good scared." "There's a good kind?" "Oh, yes." Her voice drops so low I have to strain to hear. "Orlin made me scared all the time. Scared I would starve. Scared I would get too cold. Scared he would hurt me again or get so mad he'd throw me to one of the men. That was nasty bad scared." She pauses, scuffing her boots against the floor. "But you never hit me, even though I'm your slave... You always feed me. You call me my true name. Now when I'm scared, it's not because of meanness. And today, I chose my own scared. It's always a good scared, when you get to pick it your own self.

Prophecy is a tricky thing, I have learned, full of edges and secret meanings and mischief. Prophecy can feel like the betrayal of a dear friends, the disappointment of a lifetime, the hope of a nation.

Always

My supposed destiny can drown itself in the deepest part of the sea. Along with everyone else's plans for me.

Fuss is reserved for sons.

Every place there's people, there's badness.

Even more than the cold, I’m frozen by the sadness in his beautiful eyes, deep and true. He squeezes them closed a moment and breathes deeply through his nose. Then, with one swift movement, he cups the back of my neck with a strong hand, pulls my head forward, and presses his lips to mine. He wastes precious moments kissing me, his tongue gliding across my lips, darting at my teeth. I open my mouth and kiss back just as eagerly.

I saw the way she looked at you. You are life and breath for her." He's wrong about that. Elisa loves fiercely, it's true. But she loves with her heart and mind. If she comes for me, it will be part of a larger plan to rescue all of Joya.

Storm explains, "Joyans find Invierno names complicated and incomprehensible." I glare at him. Storm and I were going to have a conversation about 'complicated and incomprehensible" versus 'over-wrought and inefficient'.

Thank you for lending me the use of your maid. I tragically lost my lady-in-waiting on our journey and found Cosme's presence such a comfort.

I make my hand my whole world. Hand hand hand hand. I push through the sand and light and heat, and with every bit of strength I have in me, I squeeze back.

All I know of Inviernos is bloodshed and cruelty and rage and..." Her voice trails off as tears fill her eyes. "And me," Storm says softly. "You know me.

Everyone has doubts. Pray through them,

We have a saying. My people call it 'choosing the path of fewest lashes.'" "That's terrible," I murmur; half to myself. "You mistake 'terrible' for 'different,'" he says. "You have a similar say, do you not? 'The lesser of two evils'?

I cover his hand with my own: "The Champion must not waver," he says in my ear. "Yea, though SHE pass through the shadow of darkness, SHE shall not fear, for God's righteous right hand shall sustain her and give her new life triumphant.

Elisa, tell me truly. Have you attained that kind of power? The kind that would frighten an animagus?" "I have." Her eyes widen and her lips part. She says to Storm, "You always speak truly, yes?" "Yes, Your Highness." "You are also an animagus, are you not?" "I am." "And you believe my sister has the kind of power she claims?" "No," he says. "She is being modest.

It's possible I've been through too much, lost too much. War damages different people in different ways; Hector taught me that. King Alejandro became spineless and incapable. His father before him was rash and unpredictable, if I'm to believe court gossip. Perhaps this is my damage. Maybe I am numb to fear because I am broken.

Catch me if I fall?

Pummel me all you want," I say. "Pummel me to death, in fact. My answers will not change." The Invierno step back, frowning. "You must love her very much," he says, not unkindly.

His gaze drops to my lips. "I shouldn't do this--" "You really should." And I close the distance between us.

Men. And their no-good, fool-headed proposals.

There's not a place in the whole world where everyone isn't willing--no, eager--to give a girl up to a man.

His name was Humberto, and now you're just being petty.

I love everything about him. I love that he cares so much about honor and duty. I love how, when he’s working hardest to mask his feelings, they’re actually leaking out all over the place. I love the way his hair curls when it gets wet, his slightly crooked smile, the way he smells. When he laughs, I feel it in my toes.

it’s not our place to question God’s will, and it is clearly God’s will that the two of us become man and wife.” It’s a testament to my fine character that I don’t smash that Bible right into his nose. “You wouldn’t know God’s will if it tipped its hat and said howdy.

Well maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe you'll marry a man who is rich and powerful and wise AND wonderful to be naked with.' I can't help the giggle that bubbles from my mouth. 'Maybe,' she says, 'you should ask all your suitors to drop their breeches so you can inspect the merchandise.' 'Mara!' 'You could make it a royal command.' I toss a pillow at her.

One thing I have learned from many years of watching my father is that some people, the best ones, are motivated more by the chance to prove themselves than by a command to serve. It is the work itself that calls them onward, especially if they believe they are the only ones who can do it.

Until recently, I believed all horses were alike. They’ve been giant, four-footed animals with ugly dispositions and alarmingly large teeth for so long that it’s a bit startling to notice how different they are from each other. Mara’s mare, for instance, is a chestnut bay except for a wide white blaze down her nose that makes her seem perpetually surprised. My huge plodding mount is a dark brown near to black creature, with the most unruly mane I’ve ever seen. Her shaggy forelock covers her right eye and reaches almost to her mouth. Mara’s mare head-butts her in the chest. Grinning, Mara plants a kiss between her wide, dumb eyes, then murmurs something. “Have you named her?” I ask. “Yes! Her name is Jasmine.” I grimace. “But jasmine is such a sweet, pretty flower.” Mara laughs. “Have you named yours?” “Her name is Horse.” She rolls her eyes. “If you want to get along with your mount you have to learn each others’ languages. That means starting with a good name.” “All right.” I pretend to consider. “What about Imbecile? Or Poops A Lot?

Later, when we've found this mysterious ship of Hector's and are safely away, when I have time to rest and worry and a quiet corner to hide in, I will coldly remember that being a queen means being strategic. And I will imagine sending off the man I love to marry my sister. I'll rehearse it in my head, maybe. Get used to the feeling.

Hector, I have to ask. Do you want to be an emperor? Because I could make you one. You could be my equal in rank, with just as much authority. Tristán still owes me votes on the Quorum. We could ram an edict through—” “No need,” he says, reaching up to brush my bottom lip with his thumb. “I’m a good leader, but you’re a great ruler. I am strong enough—man enough—to be subject to you.

It would be useless to tell him that I'm done sacrificing other people for my own gain. I won't whip innocent kitchen workers, I won't burn down buildings, I won't ask anyone to give up their inheritance for me, and I certainly won't leave a friend at the mercy of a mysterious magical force-- merely for the sake of my own power. I press my fingers to the stone at my navel, taking comfort in its familiar pulsing. What I tell him is, 'And I have me. I will be enough.