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Quote by Maria V. Snyder

“It was my turn to groan. Dress shopping with Kade’s mother. Kill me now. The alternative—arriving home without a gown—was equally unappealing. “Okay, but I’m taking my switchblade along.” “To defend yourself against my mother?” he asked with an incredulous tone. “No. To slit my throat if the day goes badly.” He laughed. “Make sure you don’t bleed in front of her. She faints at the sight of blood.” “I’m so glad you have your priorities straight,” I said. My voice dripped with sarcasm.”

Quote by Maria V. Snyder

Work

Spy Glass

In this gripping tale, a protagonist uses a spy glass as a tool to uncover secrets and navigate a world of danger and deceit. more

Author

Maria V. Snyder
Maria V. Snyder

Maria V. Snyder is an American author of science fiction and fantasy novels. Known for her unique magical systems and engaging storylines, her works have gained popularity since their publication in 2005. The specific birth and death dates are unknown. more

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“I explained about Helen’s comments. “It could be sour grapes because she wasn’t picked to make the orbs, but then again she might have a genuine concern. In my hometown of Booruby, I either know of or have heard of all the glassmakers.” “We should keep an open mind and see how they do,” Kade said. He pulled me close. “Think the best until proven otherwise?” “Exactly. You should adopt it as your motto.” I liked my way better. Assume danger and be pleasantly surprised when proven wrong.”

“As much as I enjoyed thinking all kinds of horrible possibilities about your whereabouts, do you think the next time you disappear, you could leave me a note?” Kade asked. “We can even make up a form. I’m gone because of A, Tricky, or B, Devlen, or C, fill in the blank. You can just circle a reason and leave it for me.” “Wow. That’s some impressive sarcasm,” Heli said. “I’m glad I’m not on the receiving end this time.” Considering all that had happened to me since I’d known Kade, I couldn’t blame him for being upset. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to do it again.” An eyebrow spiked. “Try?” “Since your suggestion of making up a form actually is a good idea, I’d say try is the best I can do. I have no control over a whole list of things, but what I can control, I’ll make sure to let you know.” His anger dissipated as he conceded the point. “You liked my form idea?” A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. “It could use a little work. I think we should put check boxes next to the list—circling the reason might take too long. With a box, I can just check and go.” “I’ll get right on it.”

“You look much better,” she said. “You should be out of here and causing trouble in no time.” A tired amusement lit her eyes. “Not anymore. No magic left, so no more trouble.” She sobered. “True. You can’t access the power source. Your glass magic is gone.” She covered my hand with hers. “Does that upset you?” “No. I’m relieved. Now I’m just a regular nobody. No longer a problem. No longer a danger. No longer useful to Sitia.” Zitora squeezed. “I won’t agree to any of those statements. You will never be a ‘regular nobody.’ Your deeds for Sitia have extended beyond the regular and into the extraordinary.”

“Listen. Even before I found out about you and Devlen, I realized we couldn’t be together. Now brace yourself, I’m going to use a weather analogy.” I groaned. He quirked a smile. “You’re all energy and excitement and then you blow away. Being with you is like being on the coast, dancing in the storms. Breathless activity, followed by calm. I have that with my job.” He brushed my hair from my eyes. “After you sacrificed your magic I thought you would be content to stay uninvolved in Sitian affairs and be with me. But you rushed off, jumping right back into the maelstrom. I don’t have the energy to deal with storms on both fronts—pun intended. I need someone steadier.” Tears ran down my face. He hugged me. “And I’ll offer to render aid whenever needed because I know you wouldn’t ask. After all, I don’t want to miss out on all the fun.”

“That went well,” he said. “I’ll suffer for it later. Her interrogation techniques would crack a hardened criminal in seconds.” “I think you’re exaggerating. She’s very sweet.” “Uh-huh. Then why didn’t you tell her you’re my husband?” He had the decency to look chagrined. “I didn’t want to overwhelm her. She just met me and the children. It’s a lot to absorb. We’ll explain it to her later.” “Uh-huh.” “Besides, I’m going to ask her to plan and organize a big beautiful wedding for you.” “Interesting strategy. Bribe her first, then blindside her. Good luck with that.” He laughed. “I’m sure she will be thrilled since she missed our tiny ceremony. And I want your family and friends to be able to share in our joy.”

“For all his claims to be just a propagandist, [Bernard Shaw's] writing has an effect nearer to that of music than most of those who have claimed to be writing "dramas of feeling." His plays are a joy to watch, not because they purport to deal with social and political problems, but because they are such wonderful displays of conspicuous waste; the conversational energy displayed by his characters is so far in excess of what their situation requires that, if it were to be devoted to practical action, it would wreck the world in five minutes. The Mozart of English letters he is not – the music of the Marble Statue is beyond him – the Rossini, yes. He has all the brio, humor, cruel clarity and virtuosity of that master of opera buffa.”

“The terms that Sforza Cesarini offered Rossini, 400 Roman Scudi, were not ungenerous, though it must have been galling for Rossini to see the Figaro, Luigi Zamboni, getting almost twice as much, and the Almaviva, Manuel Garcia, being offered three times the amount. Of the first-night cast, only the 'altro buffo', Bartolomeo Botticelli, who played Bartolo, and the 'seconda donna', Elisabetta Lowselet, who played Berta, were paid less than the composer.”

“On Rossini's 'The Barber of Seville' - "Much has been written about the fiasco of the opera's first night on 20 February 1816, most of it true: the mockery of Rossini's Spanish-style hazel jacket, the rowdy animosity of the Paisiello lobby, the jeering and the catcalls, as one mishap succeeded another. Basilio sang his 'Calumny' aria with a bloodied nose after tripping over a trap door; then during the act 1 finale, a cat wandered onstage, declined to leave, and was forcibly flung into the wings. According to the Rosina, Gertrude Righetti Giorgi, Rossini left the theatre 'as though he had been an indifferent onlooker'... The second performance was a triumph, though Rossini was not there to witness it. He spent the evening pacing his room, imagining the opera's progress scene by scene. He retired early, only to be roused by a glow of torches and uproar in the street. Fearing that a mob was about to set fire to the building, he took refuge in a stable block. Garcia tried to summon him to acknowledge the adulation. 'F***' their bravos!' was Rossini's blunt rejoinder. 'I'm not coming out'.”