Siege Quotes

When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable.

Watch yourself, Nikolai,” Mal said softly. “Princes bleed just like other men.” Nikolai plucked an invisible piece of dust from his sleeve. “Yes,” he said. “They just do it in better clothes.

The less you say, the more weight your words will carry.

What is infinite? The universe and the greed of men.

Of course not," said Sturmhond. "Anything worth doing always starts as a bad idea.

I took a breath. “Your highness—” “Nikolai,” he corrected. “But I’ve also been known to answer to ‘sweetheart’ or ‘handsome.

Oh, and the easiest way to make someone furious is to tell her to calm down.

I've seen what you truly are," said the Darkling, "and I've never turned away. I never will. Can he say the same?

I want to kiss you,” Nikolai said. “But I won’t. Not until you’re thinking of me instead of trying to forget him.

Sieges weathered, fight together, friends forever.

Weakness is a guise. Wear it when they need to know you're human, but never when you feel it.

You heard Prince Perfect," Mal said, and joined us at the table. Nikolai grinned. "I've had a lot of nicknames, but that one is easily the most accurate.

You know the problem with heroes and saints, Nikolai?” I asked as I closed the book’s cover and headed for the door. “They always end up dead.

I have loved you all my life, Mal,” I whispered through my tears. “There is no end to our story.

Sturmhond had a way of talking that made me want to shoot someone. Preferably him.

You’re mad,” I said. “You know what he can do. No prize is worth that.” Sturmhond grinned. “That remains to be seen.” “The Darkling will hunt you for the rest of your days.” “Then you and I will have something in common, won’t we? Besides, I like to have powerful enemies. Makes me feel important.” Mal crossed his arms and considered the privateer. “I can’t decide if you’re crazy or stupid.” “I have so many good qualities,” Sturmhond said. “It can be hard to choose.

Do you answer a question directly?" "Hard to say. Ah, there, I've done it again

And there’s no way I’m leaving you alone with Prince Perfect.” “So you don’t trust me to resist his charms?” “I don’t even trust myself. I’ve never seen anyone work a crowd the way he does. I’m pretty sure the rocks and trees are getting ready to swear fealty to him.

I'm perfectly capable of being stupid on my own.

I like to have powerful enemies. Makes me feel important.

We are alike,” he said, “as no one else is, as no one else will ever be.” The truth of it rang through me. Like calls to like.

Why won’t you leave me alone?” I whispered one night as he hovered behind me while I tried to work at my desk. Long minutes passed. I didn’t think he would answer. I even had time to hope he might have gone, until I felt his hand on my shoulder. “Then I’d be alone, too," he said, and he stayed the whole night through, till the lamps burned down to nothing.

Anything worth doing always starts as a bad idea.

You two have a bad habit of acting like fools and calling it heroic.

I can’t decide if you’re a fearmonger or a coward.” “And I can’t decide if you’re an idiot or an idiot.

I thought you wanted to go." "I wanted you to ask me to stay.

He tapped the sun over his heart. "I came here for you. You're my flag. You're my nation.

I got used to seeing him waiting for me at the end of corridors, or sitting at the edge of my bed when I fell asleep at night. When he didn’t appear, I sometimes found myself looking for him or wondering why he hadn’t come, and that frightened me most of all.

You can’t be serious,” I said. “Not on a regular basis, no.

The Darkling just stared out into the waves. I considered shoving him over the railing. Sure, he was hundreds of years old, but could he swim?

The ox feels the yoke, but does the bird feel the weight of its wings?

Our strategy should be not only to confront empire, but to lay siege to it. To deprive it of oxygen. To shame it. To mock it. With our art, our music, our literature, our stubbornness, our joy, our brilliance, our sheer relentlessness – and our ability to tell our own stories. Stories that are different from the ones we’re being brainwashed to believe. The corporate revolution will collapse if we refuse to buy what they are selling – their ideas, their version of history, their wars, their weapons, their notion of inevitability. Remember this: We be many and they be few. They need us more than we need them. Another world is not only possible, she is on her way. On a quiet day, I can hear her breathing.

Scars made good reminders.

My mother was an oyster,” he said with a wink. “And I’m the pearl.

So why are we practicing this, anyway?" Percy asked. "Do you guys spend a lot of time laying siege to fortified cities?

I may not have been completely honest about that." "You? Less than truthful? I'm shocked, Nikolai. Shocked and horrified.

Do you take anything seriously?” “Not if I can help it. Makes life so tedious.

Sometimes people can be too intellegent for their own good. Too much thinking could confuse things.

Can we get to the cuddling later? I want us ashore before dawn." Mal sighed. "Eventually, I'm going to punch him." "I will support you in that endeavor.

Don’t worry, tracker. You’ll know when our deal is up...I’ll be certain you hear it when I make her scream.

Mal snickered. "What's so funny?" "I just pictured the Darkling being cornered by a sweaty duchess trying to have her way with him.

Any sign of them yet? he asked. Will looked at him. 'Yes', he said. 'A party of fifty Scotti came though just twenty minutes ago'. Really? Horace looked startled. He wasn't fully awake yet. Will rolled his eyes to heaven. 'Oh, my word, yes', he said. 'They were riding on oxen and playing bagpipes and drums. Of course not,' he went on. 'If they had come past, I would have woken you-if only to stop your snoring'. I don't snore', Horace said, with dignity. Will raised his eyebrows. 'Is that so?' he said. 'Then in that case, you'd better chase out that colony of walruses who are in the tent with you...of course you snore.

Don't argue. Never deign to deny. Meet insults with laughter.

Do I get to wear a fancy hat?" "The fanciest," I said. "And possibly a cape." "Will there be plumes?" "Oh, yes. Several." "Then I'm in.

Don't feel too bad, tracker," said the Darkling. "All men can be made fools.

Have you looked in a mirror lately?" "I think you do that enough for the both of us.

Will looked up angrily, shaking his head in disbelief. Will you shut up? he said tautly. Horace shrugged in apology. 'I'm sorry' he said, I sneezed. A person can't help it when they sneeze. Perhaps not. But you could try to make it sound a little less like an elephant trumpeting in agony; Will told him.

Nikolai laughed. "Next time, bring a flask. Every time he changes his mind, take a sip." I groaned. "I'd be passed out on the floor before the hour was up.

They do love their pretty colors," grumbled Tolya. "Don't give me any ideas," I whispered. "Maybe I'll decide my personal guard should wear bright yellow pantaloons." For the first time, I saw an expression very much like fear cross his face.

So many men had tried to make her a queen. Now she understood that she was meant for something more. The Darkling had told her he was destined to rule. He had claimed his throne, and a part of her too. He was welcome to it. For the living and the dead, she would make herself a reckoning. She would rise.

Promise not to kick me again, and I'll promise not to kiss you again," he said. "I only kicked you because you kissed me!

Like calls to like. I'd sense it when the Hummingbird entered the Unsea, but I'd been too afraid to embrace it. This time, I didn't fight. I let go of my fear, my guilt, my shame. There was darkness inside me. He had put it there, and I would no longer deny it. The volcra, the nichevo'ya, they were my monsters, all of them. And he was my monster too. "My power is yours", I repeated. His arms tightened around me. "And yours is mine," I whispered against his lips.

When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." With the moonlight gleaming off the lenses of his goggles and with his greatcoat billowing around him, he looked like a complete madman.

You were an odd little girl." "You have no idea. What did you and Toyla play with?" "The skulls of our enemies.

Were you proposing to shoot these people in cold blood, sergeant?" "Nossir. Just a warning shot inna head, sir.

You sound just like the Darkling." "If you ever have trouble telling us apart, look for the person who isn't torturing you or trying to kill Mal. That will be me.

It's hard not to be a fighter when you're constantly under siege.

That's a good fellow,' Sturmhond said to Ivan. 'Now, I'll take the prisoner back to her quarters, and you can run off and do . . . whatever it is you do when everyone else is working.' Ivan scowled. 'I don't think—' 'Clearly. Why start now?

I can’t decide if you’re crazy or stupid.” “I have so many good qualities,” Sturmhond said. “It can be hard to choose.

You just punched a prince, Alina. I guess we can add one more act of treason to our list.” I shook out my sore hand. My knuckles smarted. “First of all, are we so sure he really is a prince? And second, you’re just jealous.” “Of course I’m jealous. I thought I was going to get to punch him. That isn’t the point.

You were like a stranger, Alina. Beautiful," he said. "Terrible.

It's still the same heart, Mal. It's still yours.

يا إلهنا العزيز، ارحم رجالاً أنفقوا أعمارهم في تخيل الأشياء!!

If it works, it will be plenty dramatic. And I suppose that if it doesn't work, it will be even more dramatic, what with the blast." "David, I think you just made a joke." He frowned, utterly perplexed. "Did I?

Great,” I said. “Now get out.” “It’s my coach.” “The deal was only for kicking. It did not prohibit slapping, punching, biting or cutting you in half.

my brain had begun to endure its familiar siege: panic and dislocation, and a sense that my thought processes were being engulfed by a toxic and unnameable tide that obliterated any enjoyable response to the living world.

I'll get them out and come back. I promise." "On your word as a cutthroat and a pirate?" He touched my cheek once, briefly. "Privateer." Another explosion rocked the grounds. "Let's go!" shouted Mal. As we sprinted into the tunnel, I glanced back and saw Nikolai silhouetted against the purple twilight. I wondered if I'd ever see him again.

Iko, did we break into that guardhouse and broadcast Cinder's message across all of Luna?" "Yes, Captain." "And, Scarlet, did I rescue you and Wolf when the entire city of Paris was under siege?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "Actually, I'm pretty sure Cinder-" "Yes, I did.

Well, in that hit you miss. She'll not be hit With Cupid's arrow. She hath Dian's wit, And, in strong proff of chastity well armed, From Love's weak childish bow she lives uncharmed. She will not stay the siege of loving terms, Nor bide th' encounter of assailing eyes, Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold. O, she is rich in beauty; only poor That, when she dies, with dies her store. Act 1,Scene 1, lines 180-197

Even in those cities which seem to enjoy the blessings of peace, and where the arts florish, the inhabitants are devoured by envy, cares and anxieties, which are greater plagues than any expirienced in a town when it is under siege.

I seem to be immune," I replied. "And luckily, I know what a real kiss should feel like." I left him standing in the middle of the square. I could get used to making Mal blush.

No matter what I said, we both knew the hard truth. We do our best. We try. And usually, it makes no difference at all.

We're giving them hope. That's better than nothing.' 'Spoken like a man who's never had nothing,' I said, and wheeled my horse away.

It’s always been this way. There were rumors about me even before I was born. It’s why my mother never calls me Sobachka. She says it makes me sound like a mongrel.” My heart gave a little pang at that. I’d been called plenty of names growing up. “I like mongrels,” I said. “They have cute floppy ears.” “My ears are very dignified.

If you ever get tired of skin and bones," she called to Mal, "I've got something to tempt you." I stiffened. Mal glanced over his shoulder. Slowly, he looked her up and down. "No," he said flatly. "You don't.

Just waiting, hoping that you'd miss me enough to tell them all to go to hell.

This royal throne of kings, this scepter’d isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear’d by their breed and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry, As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry Of the world’s ransom, blessed Mary’s Son, This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leased out, I die pronouncing it, Like to a tenement or pelting farm: England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds: That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself. Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, How happy then were my ensuing death!

Don't wish for bricks when you can build from stone.

I’m also Sturmhond, commander of the Volkvony, scourge of the True Sea.’ 'Scourge?’ 'Well, I’m vexing at the very least.

In case you've forgotten, I tried to kill you." "And failed." "Here's to second chances.

You must marry ugly man," I said. "Very fet." I held my arms out in front of me, indicating a giant belly. "He weeel make you heppy." I heard Mal snort beneath his mask.

No, Tolya, your gifts lie elewhere," Sturmhond said soothingly. "Mostly in the celebrated fields of killing and maiming.

I came here for you. You're my flag. You're my nation.

ONCE UPON A time, there was a king who had three beautiful daughters. He loved each of them dearly. One day, when the young ladies were of age to be married, a terrible, three-headed dragon laid siege to the kingdom, burning villages with fiery breath. It spoiled crops and burned churches. It killed babies, old people, and everyone in between. The king promised a princess’s hand in marriage to whoever slayed the dragon. Heroes and warriors came in suits of armor, riding brave horses and bearing swords and arrows. One by one, these men were slaughtered and eaten. Finally the king reasoned that a maiden might melt the dragon’s heart and succeed where warriors had failed. He sent his eldest daughter to beg the dragon for mercy, but the dragon listened to not a word of her pleas. It swallowed her whole. Then the king sent his second daughter to beg the dragon for mercy, but the dragon did the same. Swallowed her before she could get a word out. The king then sent his youngest daughter to beg the dragon for mercy, and she was so lovely and clever that he was sure she would succeed where the others had perished. No indeed. The dragon simply ate her. The king was left aching with regret. He was now alone in the world. Now, let me ask you this. Who killed the girls? The dragon? Or their father?

The world is changing," said Nikolai, the steel edge emerging in his voice. "We change with it, or there will be nothing to remember us but dust.

I don't think-" "Clearly. Why start now?

I shouldn't have lost my temper that way. It just pricks his pride, makes him dig in his heels." "So why did you?" I asked, genuinely curious. It was rare for Nikolai's emotions to get the best of him. "I don't know," he said, shredding the leaf. "You got angry. I got angry. The room was too damn hot." "I don't think that's it." "Indigestion?" he offered. "It's because you actually care about what happens to this country," I said. "The throne is just a prize to Vasily, something he wants to squabble over like a favorite toy, You're not like that. You'll make a good king." Nikolai froze. "I…" For once, words seemed to have deserted him. Then a crooked, embarrassed smile crept across his face. It was a far cry from his usual self-assured grin. "Thank you," he said. I sighed as we resumed our pace. "You're going to be insufferable now, aren't you?" Nikolai laughed. "I'm already insufferable.

I don't care if you think I'm a Saint or a fool or the Darkling's whore. If you want to remain at the Little Palace you will follow me. And if you don't like it, you will be gone by tonight, or I will have you in chains. I am a solider. I am the Sun Summoners. And I'm the only chance you have.

As far back as she could remember, a phantom life had mocked her with its impenetrable “something else,” but now it was the opposite. Here, in the circle of Akiva's presence, even as they spoke of war and siege and enduring enmity, she felt herself being drawn into the warm absoluteness and rightness of him, like he was both place and person and, contrary to all reason, exactly where she was supposed to be.

The course of history is determined not by battles, by sieges, or usurpation, but by the individuals. The strongest army is, at its most basic level, a collection of individuals. Their decisions, their passions, their foolishness, and their dreams shape the years to come. If there is any lesson to be learned from history, it is that all too often the fate of armies, of cities, of entire realms rests upon the actions of one person's decision, good or bad, right or wrong, big or small, can unwittingly change the world. But history can be quite the slattern. One never knows who that person is, where he might be, or what decision he might male. It is almost enough to make me believe in destiny.

I tried to imagine how things could get much worse. The gods were in the Midwest fighting a huge monster that had almost defeated them once before. Poseidon was under siege and losing a war against the sea Titan Oceanus. Kronos was still out there somewhere. Olympus was virtually undefended. The demigods of Camp Half-Blood were on our own with a spy in our midst. Oh, and according to the ancient prophecy, I was going to die when I turned sixteen—which happened to be in five days, the exact same time Typhon was supposed to hit New York. Almost forgot that.

I told them you hate herring.” “Why?” “And that you love plum cake. And that Ana Kuya took a switch to you when you ruined your spring slippers jumping in puddles.” I winced. “Why would you tell them all that?” “I wanted to make you human,” he said. “All they see when they look at you is the Sun Summoner. They see a threat, another powerful Grisha like the Darkling. I want them to see a daughter or a sister or a friend. I want them to see Alina.

I peered up at him. He was leaning against the table, arms crossed, the ghost of a smile playing over his lips. 'Mal, I put a hole in the ceiling.' 'A very dramatic hole.' I let out a huff somewhere between a laugh and a sob. 'What are we going to do when it rains?' 'What we always do,' he said. 'Keep dry.

You let Mal come back for me. After you gave me your vow." "He broke away," said Tamar. I lifted a brow. The day Mal could break Tolya's hold was indeed a day of miracles. Tolya hung his head and heaved his huge shoulders. "Forgive me," he said. "I couldn't be the one to keep him from you.

Again, the Darkling shook his head. “You two make it so easy. I prick him, you bleed.” “And you can’t begin to understand that, can you?” He reached out and tapped Morozova’s collar, letting his fingers graze the skin of my throat. Even that faint touch opened the connection between us, and a rush of power vibrated through me like a bell being struck. “I understand enough,” he said softly.

So what did Jes say?' I asked again, when my brain felt a bit less scrambled. 'He said I should take good care of you.' 'That's all?' Mal cleared his throat. 'And . . . he said he would pray to the God of Work to heal your affliction.' 'My what?' 'I many have told him that you have a goiter.' I stumbled. 'I beg your pardon?' 'Well, I had to explain why you were always clinging to that scarf.' I dropped my hand. I'd been doing it again without even realizing. 'So you told him I had a goiter?' I whispered incredulously. 'I had to say something. And it makes you quite a tragic figure. Pretty girl, giant growth, you know.' I punched him hard in the arm. 'Ow! Hey, in some countries, goiters are considered very fashionable.' 'Do they like eunuchs, too? Because I can arrange that.' 'So bloodthirsty!' 'My goiter makes me cranky.

I saw her, once. “She passed through our village, through fields littered with dead soldiers after her forces overwhelmed the nation of Dumor. Her other Elites followed and then rows of white-robed Inquisitors, wielding the white-and-silver banners of the White Wolf. Where they went, the sky dimmed and the ground cracked—the clouds gathered behind the army as if a creature alive, black and churning in fury. As if the goddess of Death herself had come. “She paused to look down at one of our dying soldiers. He trembled on the ground, but his eyes stayed on her. He spat something at her. She only stared back at him. I don’t know what he saw in her expression, but his muscles tightened, his legs pushing against the dirt as he tried in vain to get away from her. Then the man started to scream. It is a sound I shall never forget as long as I live. She nodded to her Rainmaker, and he descended from his horse to plunge a sword through the dying soldier. Her face did not change at all. She simply rode on. “I never saw her again. But even now, as an old man, I remember her as clearly as if she were standing before me. She was ice personified. There was once a time when darkness shrouded the world, and the darkness had a queen.” —A witness’s account of Queen Adelina’s siege on the nation of Dumor The Village of Pon-de-Terre 28 Marzien, 1402

Keep your elbows in!" Sturmhond berated Mal. "Stop flapping them like some kind of chicken." Mal let out a disturbingly convincing cluck. Tamar raised a brow. "Your friend seems to be enjoying himself." I shrugged. "Mal's always been like that. You could drop him in a camp full of Fjerdan assassins, and he'd come out carried on their shoulders. He just blooms wherever he's planted." "And you?" "I'm more of a weed," I said drily. Tamar grinned. In combat, she was cold and silent fire, but when she wasn't fighting, her smiles came easily. "I like weeds," said said, pushing herself off from the railing and gathering her scattered lengths of rope. "They're survivors." I caught myself returning her smile and quickly went back to working on the knot that I was trying to tie. The problem was that I liked being aboard Sturmhond's ship. I liked Tolya and Tamar and the rest of the crew. I like sitting at meals with them, and the sound of Privyet's lilting tenor. I liked the afternoon when we took target practice, lining up empty wine bottles to shoot off the fantail and making harmless wagers.

The less you say, the more weight your words will carry. Don’t argue. Never deign to deny. Meet insults with laughter. “You didn’t laugh at the Fjerdan captain,” I observed. “That wasn’t an insult. It was a challenge,” he said. “Know the difference.” Weakness is a guise. Wear it when they need to know you’re human, but never when you feel it. Don’t wish for bricks when you can build from stone. Use whatever or whoever is in front of you. Being a leader means someone is always watching you. Get them to follow the little orders, and they’ll follow the big ones. It’s okay to flout expectations, but never disappoint them.

A Rock, A River, A Tree Hosts to species long since departed, Mark the mastodon. The dinosaur, who left dry tokens Of their sojourn here On our planet floor, Any broad alarm of their of their hastening doom Is lost in the gloom of dust and ages. But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully, Come, you may stand upon my Back and face your distant destiny, But seek no haven in my shadow. I will give you no hiding place down here. You, created only a little lower than The angels, have crouched too long in The bruising darkness, Have lain too long Face down in ignorance. Your mouths spelling words Armed for slaughter. The rock cries out today, you may stand on me, But do not hide your face. Across the wall of the world, A river sings a beautiful song, Come rest here by my side. Each of you a bordered country, Delicate and strangely made proud, Yet thrusting perpetually under siege. Your armed struggles for profit Have left collars of waste upon My shore, currents of debris upon my breast. Yet, today I call you to my riverside, If you will study war no more. Come, clad in peace and I will sing the songs The Creator gave to me when I And the tree and stone were one. Before cynicism was a bloody sear across your brow And when you yet knew you still knew nothing. The river sings and sings on. There is a true yearning to respond to The singing river and the wise rock. So say the Asian, the Hispanic, the Jew, The African and Native American, the Sioux, The Catholic, the Muslim, the French, the Greek, The Irish, the Rabbi, the Priest, the Sheikh, The Gay, the Straight, the Preacher, The privileged, the homeless, the teacher. They hear. They all hear The speaking of the tree. Today, the first and last of every tree Speaks to humankind. Come to me, here beside the river. Plant yourself beside me, here beside the river. Each of you, descendant of some passed on Traveller, has been paid for. You, who gave me my first name, You Pawnee, Apache and Seneca, You Cherokee Nation, who rested with me, Then forced on bloody feet, Left me to the employment of other seekers-- Desperate for gain, starving for gold. You, the Turk, the Swede, the German, the Scot... You the Ashanti, the Yoruba, the Kru, Bought, sold, stolen, arriving on a nightmare Praying for a dream. Here, root yourselves beside me. I am the tree planted by the river, Which will not be moved. I, the rock, I the river, I the tree I am yours--your passages have been paid. Lift up your faces, you have a piercing need For this bright morning dawning for you. History, despite its wrenching pain, Cannot be unlived, and if faced with courage, Need not be lived again. Lift up your eyes upon The day breaking for you. Give birth again To the dream. Women, children, men, Take it into the palms of your hands. Mold it into the shape of your most Private need. Sculpt it into The image of your most public self. Lift up your hearts. Each new hour holds new chances For new beginnings. Do not be wedded forever To fear, yoked eternally To brutishness. The horizon leans forward, Offering you space to place new steps of change. Here, on the pulse of this fine day You may have the courage To look up and out upon me, The rock, the river, the tree, your country. No less to Midas than the mendicant. No less to you now than the mastodon then. Here on the pulse of this new day You may have the grace to look up and out And into your sister's eyes, Into your brother's face, your country And say simply Very simply With hope Good morning.