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Quote by Robin Hobb

“Gankis lifted an arm to point at the distant shale cliffs. "And in the face of it there were thousands of little holes, little what-you-call-'ems..." "Alcoves," Kennit supplied in an almost dreamy voice. "I call them alcoves, Gankis. As would you, if you could speak your own mother tongue.”

Quote by Robin Hobb

Work

Ship of Magic

This novel follows the adventures of a mystical vessel and its crew as they navigate through enchanted waters and face various challenges on their quest. more

Author

Robin Hobb
Robin Hobb

Robin Hobb is an American novelist renowned for her fantasy novels. Her works are known for their complex characters and in-depth historical backgrounds, which have won her a dedicated following. more

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“Hello, freak,” Drake said. Lana backed away, but too late. Drake leveled his gun at her. “I’m right-handed. ’Least I used to be. But I can still hit you from this distance.” “What do you want?” Drake motioned toward the stump of his right arm. It was gone from just above the elbow. “What do you think I want?” The one time she’d seen Drake Merwin, he had made her think of Pack Leader: strong, hyper alert, dangerous. Now, the lean physique looked gaunt, the shark’s grin was a tight grimace, his eyes were red-rimmed. His stare, once languidly menacing, was now intense, burning hot. He looked like someone who had been tortured beyond endurance. “I’ll try,” Lana said. “You’ll do more than try,” he said. He convulsed in pain, face scrunched. A low, eerie moan escaped his throat. “I don’t know if I can grow a whole arm back,” Lana said. “Let me touch it.” “Not here,” he hissed. He motioned with his gun. “Through the back door.” “If you shoot me, I can’t help you,” Lana argued. “Can you heal dogs? How about if I blow his brains out? Can you heal that, freak?”

“Has Orc shown up here?” But neither Caine nor Diana answered. Both were staring at Drake, who sauntered toward them, all his cockiness restored, no longer the ragged scarecrow who had wept when he saw the melted stump of his hand lying on the tile floor. “Drake,” Caine said. “We thought you were dead.” “I’m back,” Drake said. “And better than ever.” The red tentacle unwrapped itself from around his waist, like a python releasing its victim. “Like it, Diana?” Drake asked. The arm, that impossible bloodred snake, coiled above Drake’s head, swirled, writhed. And then, so fast that the human eye could barely register the movement, it snapped like a bullwhip. The sound was a loud crack. A mini–sonic boom. Diana cried out in pain. Stunned, she stared at the cut in her blouse and the trickle of red from her shoulder. “Sorry,” Drake said with no attempt at sincerity. “I’m still working on my aim.” “Drake,” Caine said and, despite the blood, despite Diana’s wound, he grinned. “Welcome back.” “I brought some help,” Drake said. He extended his left hand, and Caine shook it awkwardly with his right. “So. When do we go take down Sam Temple?”

“Das Proletariat ist ein Interessenverband. [...] Dass ihr euer Recht wollt, ist eure Pflicht. Und ich bin euer Freund, denn wir haben denselben Feind, weil ich die Gerechtigkeit liebe. Ich bin euer Freund, obwohl ihr darauf pfeift. Aber, mein Herr, auch wenn Sie an die Macht kommen, werden die Ideale der Menschheit im Verborgenen sitzen und weiterweinen. Man ist noch nicht gut und klug, bloß weil man arm ist.”

“I believe in your ability to heal, grow, and live as your full, true self. It doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you’re going through right now.”