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Margaret Rogerson Books

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“Life is like the oil within a lamp. It can be measured, but the pace at which it burns depends on how the dial is turned day by day, how bright and fierce the flame. And there is no predicting whether the lamp might be knocked to the ground and shatter, when it could have blazed on a great while longer. Such is the unpredictability of life.”

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Book:Sorcery of Thorns
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“Este imposibil de știut câți ani va trăi un om sau în ce fel va muri. Viața este ca uleiul dintr-o lampă. Poate fi măsurat dar ritmul în care arde depinde de cum este rotit zi de zi cadranul, de cât de strălucitoare și înverșunată este flacăra. Și nu poți prezice dacă lampa ar putea fi răsturnată și spulberată, când ar fi putut să ardă încă mult timp. Viața este imprevizibilă. Este bine că nu ai multe întrebări; eu nu am niciun răspuns.”

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Author:Margaret Rogerson
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“I wiped off my fingers, but it wasn't the mold or maggots making my stomach revolt. I had touched mold many times before, and would many times again. I'd handled my fair share of spoiled food, And of course, I'd watched March eat all sorts of things. No, it was the knowledge that all around me sat empty people in rotting clothes, nibbling on flyblown trifles while they spoke of nothing of consequence with fixed smiles on their false faces.”

Humanity
Book:An Enchantment of Ravens
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“Is it true that spirits can’t remember anything about their human lives?” “Yes,” it answered tartly. I had never considered before now that someone would have needed to speak to a spirit to learn that information. I had always merely accepted it as one of the Clerisy’s teachings. “So you don’t know whether you were a man or a woman in life.” “No, and I don’t see why it matters. Humans are so tedious. Oh, you have dangly bits. Congratulations, you’re going to put on armor and swing a sword about. Oh, you’ve ended up with the other kind. Too bad—time to either have babies or become a nun.”

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Book:Vespertine
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“The library possessed a life of its own, had become greater than Cornelius had ever intended. For these were not ordinary books the libraries kept. They were knowledge, given life. Wisdom, given voice. They sang when starlight streamed through the library's windows. They felt pain and suffered heartbreak. Sometimes they were sinister, grotesque- but so was the world outside. And that made the world no less worth fighting for, because wherever there was darkness, there was also so much light.”

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Book:Sorcery of Thorns
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