The Enchanted Greenhouse Quotes

If you’re hurt, you’re hurt. It doesn’t matter if anyone else thinks you don’t have a good enough reason. Pain doesn’t require approval.

Greenery Juniper, Oracle Oak and Hop Tree, California Buckeye, and Elderberry. Pacific Dogwood and the pale green Eucalyptus, Quaking Aspen and Flannelbush. raw, sprouting, lush green love green with envy green with youth green with early spring olive, emerald, avocado, greenlight ready, set, GO! greenhouse, greenbelts, ocean kelp, cucumber, lizard, lime and forest green, spruce, teal, and putting green. green-eyed, verdant, grassy, immature green and leafy green half-formed tender, pleasant, alluring temperate freshly sawed vigorous not ripe yet promising greenbriar, greenbug, green dragon greenshanks running along the ocean's edge greenlings swimming greenlets singing greengage plums green thumbs greenhorns and greenflies- how on earth amid sage swells kelly hillsides and swirls of firs did I ever find that green of hers? holly, drake, and brewster green, pistachio, shamrock, serpentine terre verde, Brunswick, tourmaline, lotus, jade, and spinach green: start to finish lowlands to highs no field, no forest, no leaf, no blade can catch the light or trap the shade; no earthly tones will ever rise to match the green enchantment of her eyes.

She was certain she looked more like a chipmunk than a criminal, if chipmunks were lavender and gray. Her mother had purple skin, while her father was tinted more pink, and Terlu had ended up an agreeable shade of lavender, which matched nicely with the gray cotton.

She'd grown up on a sun-drenched island called Eano, where you were in far more danger of sunburn than frostbite. She used to walk barefoot through the sand and feel it tickle her toes on her way to her cousins' house, and she'd swim every sunset in the sun-warmed water before her parents called her in for dinner. At the height of summer, you could cook mussels and clams by leaving them out on the rocks, and you had to drink fruit juice to stay hydrated or you'd risk the wrath of the cluster of grandfathers who'd hand out pitchers of guava and watery sweet-berry juice at every street corner. Remembering, Terlu could almost taste the hint of sweet-berry. It was the flavor of the summer solstice, when the whole island would be decked out in flowers and smell like chocolate and cinnamon and citrus as every baker and aspiring baker would compete to create the most delectable pastries for the Summer Feast...

Terlu remembered she’d looked beyond the horizon and dreamed of what life would be like out there. So many possibilities! She hadn’t understood that you couldn’t have everything, and every door you walked through meant other doors you closed. There was a cost to leaving, and she’d paid without a second’s thought, with no guarantee of what she’d find out in the world beyond. She’d thought it would be easy to find her place.

Even though he hadn’t known her, hadn’t mean to save her, had only meant to help his greenhouse, he had changed her life. He’d given her a second chance.

People were cruel to you, and it didn’t make you bitter. What else would you call that?” “Naïve? Needy? Pathetic?” “Strong.

It was a room full of roses. Everywhere she looked, roses climbed out of pots and over trellises, up the windows and into the cupola, every shade imaginable: pink, yellow, white, champagne, sky blue, purple, fuchsia, coral, dusty pink, salmon pink, deep red, an even deeper red so dark it was almost black...

At the Great Library of Alyssum, all the librarians' meals were prepared by unseen cooks in a kitchen on a level devoid of books. Several of their cooks were high-caliber chefs, with a pedigree that included many noble houses and often even the imperial palace. They were expected to provide meals for the sorcerers who consulted the library, and so for that reason, they often turned out perfectly roasted meats, delicately spiced pastries, and mouthwatering desserts with custards that looked like they were made of molten gold. Terlu had often ordered just desserts for her meals, especially near the end, when she felt she needed more and more comfort food. Once, she'd gotten an exquisite puff pastry swan, a leftover from an imperial party that had been held in one of the grander rooms of the library. Her fondness for sweets was part of why a lover had once described her as "pleasantly huggable," a description she was perfectly fine with if it meant she'd gotten to eat pastry swans. She'd also had some amazing meals on her home island of Eano: a coconut curry made by one of her aunts that had been known to reduce grown mean and women to tears, a duck roasted over a fire pit after marinating in a special secret sauce, and dragonfruit jelly on a hot, buttery donut... But Terlu thought she had never tasted anything as good as this soup. Did he make this? It had herbs she had no name for, but they made her feel as if she were being hugged. It was warm and nutty, and the vegetables--- which she also couldn't identify--- were sometimes sweet and sometimes tart and always perfect. The broth warmed her throat, straight down to her stomach, and she felt its warmth spread to the rest of her.

Yarrow took her hands. "I wouldn't let them take you." "You couldn't stop them." "Then we'd be statues together." He'd moved closer, only inches away. "They'd have to make a double pedestal for the both of us, because I won't let go.

He also looked very handsome, even though there was a smear of dirt on his gold-hued cheek that she very much wanted to wipe off. She resisted the urge, though, since he was looking at her with so much confusion and alarm in his face that she thought he might flee if she tried. She knew what he was seeing when he looked at her: a short, plump, pastel-colored woman who was pretty in the same kind of harmless way that bunnies are pretty.

He also looked remarkably handsome, even more handsome the longer she looked at him. He had gorgeous gold-and-black hair--- jet-black streaked with gold that matched the golden sheen of his skin---- and eyes that were as green as the cat's wings. He hadn't shaved recently, and his speckled-gold almost-beard looked soft enough to pet.

You take care of every plant and every bird, every living thing on this island," Terlu said. "Who takes care of you?

It was like drinking a sunset, where the sun had stained the clouds the deepest, richest rose. Molten sunshine was dripping down her throat.

People were cruel to you, and it didn't make you bitter. What else would you call that?" "Naïve? Needy? Pathetic?" "Strong," he insisted.

She knelt on the walkway, and the plants bunched around her, each of them calling out their name: the philodendron was Dendy (he), the ivy was Risa (they), the orchid Amina (she), the calla lily Viria (she), the thistle Tirna (they), the fireweed Nif (he), the wax myrtle Ree (he), the prickly pear Hosha (they), the flytrap Sut (he), the morning glory Zyndia (she), the fern Mirr (they)... She committed as many names as possible to memory.

if you were going to do a thing to someone, there should be a verb for it, and if there wasn’t, you should reconsider doing it at all.

You didn't just remove a full-size human statue from the library without anyone noticing, especially from as prominent and well-guarded a site as the North Reading Room. She couldn't imagine how the head librarian had managed it. She hoped Rijes hadn't endangered herself in the process. But regardless of how... It seemed clear to her that regardless of how, these plants were why. It was far too much of a coincidence otherwise. She was guilty of plant magic; suddenly, here she was in an enchanted greenhouse that needed magical help.

Each recipe was from a different island in the Crescent Islands Empire, selected by the librarian in charge of the food history section of the Great Library. There were crab puffs from Dault, stuffed figs from Tirza, marinated beef skewers with pearl onions from Blaye.

What did the Ginians keep in the hearts of their mazes if not gold and jewels?" Terlu, the former Fourth Librarian of the Second Floor, East Wing, smiled at the little rose. "Books, of course, the ultimate treasure. All their stories. And their knowledge.

Summer to her tasted like coconut and pineapple, and it smelled like the lotion that her parents insisted they slather themselves with before they went outside. It tasted like cooked crab and like the sweet candy that stuck to your fingers no matter how hard you sucked them.