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Quote by Brittney Hartley

“We cannot validate worshipping a God where faith in the correct unbelievable, supernatural story, of millions of supernatural stories, is more important than things like compassion, and love, and trying to be a good person, and trying to make the world a better place. You cannot justify that.”

Quote by Brittney Hartley

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Brittney Hartley

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“I couldn't read, and it had almost killed me. I hadn't even won properly. I sank to my knees, letting the platform carry me, and covered my face in my shaking hands. Tears burned just before pain seared through my left arm. I would never beat the third task. I would never free Tamlin, or his people. The pain shot through my bones again, and through my increasing hysteria, I heard words inside my head that stopped me short. Don't let her see you cry. Put your hands at your sides and stand up. I couldn't. I couldn't move. Stand. Don't give her the satisfaction of seeing you break. My knees and spine, not entirely of my own will, forced me upright, and when the ground at last stopped moving, I looked at Amarantha with tearless eyes. Good, Rhysand told me. Stare her down. No tears- wait until you're back in your cell. Amarantha's face was drawn and white, her black eyes like onyx as she beheld me. I had won, but I should be dead. I should be squashed, my blood oozing everywhere. Count to ten. Don't look at Tamlin. Just stare at her. I obeyed. It was the only thing that kept me from giving in to the sobs trapped within my chest, thundering to get out. I willed myself to meet Amarantha's gaze. It was cold and vast and full of ancient malice, but I held it. I counted to ten. Good girl. Now walk away. Turn on your heel- good. Walk toward the door. Keep your chin high. Let the crowd part. One step after another. I listened to him, let him keep me tethered to sanity as I was escorted back to my cell by the guards-who still kept their distance. Rhysand's words echoed through my mind, holding me together. But when my cell door closed, he went silent, and I dropped to the floor and wept.”

SupportSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronCryingRhysandRhysBreaking DownA Court Of Thorns And RosesHysteria
Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“I wept for hours. For myself, for Tamlin, for the fact that I should be dead and had somehow survived. I cried for everything I'd lost, every injury I'd ever received, every wound- physical or otherwise. I cried for that trivial part of me, once so full of colour and light- now hollow and dark and empty. I couldn't stop. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't beat her. She won today and she had known it. She'd won; it was only by cheating that I'd survived. Tamlin would never be free, and I would perish in the most awful of ways. I couldn't read- I was an ignorant fool. My shortcomings had caught up with me, and this place would become my tomb. I would never paint again; never see the sun again. The walls closed in- the ceiling dropped. I wanted to be crushed; I wanted to be snuffed out. Everything converged, squeezing inward, sucking out air. I was grasping for my body, but it hurt too much each time I tried to maintain the connection. All I had wanted- all I had dared want, was a life that was quiet, easy. Nothing more than that. Nothing extraordinary. But now... now...”

Sarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronCryingHopelessnessBreaking DownShortcomingsA Court Of Thorns And RosesTamlin
Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“Nesta didn't see the lake, or the stones, or the sunlight and green. Her vision blurred, and her eyes stung as if they had been sliced- cleaved open to allow the tears to pass. She made it to the stones before she fell to her knees, so hard the rock bit into her bones. Was she worth being counted? She knew the answer. Had always known it. Cassian whirled toward her, but Nesta didn't see him, either, or hear his words.. Not as she buried her face in her hands and wept.”

Sarah J MaasCryingWorthlessBreaking DownCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesCountWept
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“The soul often hangs in a balance of some sort. Tonight do I lie down in the high fields with Dirk Tanner or not? At the fair, do I buy ribbons or wine? For the new ferry’s headboard, do I use camphor or pearwood? Small things. A kiss, a ribbon, a grain that coaxes the knife this way or that. They are not, Kit Meinem of Atyar. Our souls wait for our answer because any answer changes us. This is why I wait to decide what I feel about your bridge. I’m waiting until I know how I will be changed.” “You never know how things will change you,” Kit said. “If you don’t, you have not waited to find out.”

ChangeSoul SearchingDifferenceAlterationCourse Change
Book:Asimov's Science Fiction, October/November 2011
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