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Kindle Notes & Highlights
I feel like a tiny bug, and the world is a hungry bird looking down at me.
’Tis I, my sweet, your rough-and-ready man Well hid by night to beg your fine white hand Though king of bandits, draped in chains of gold I’m poor in love and suffer grief untold
Words can fall hard like a boulder loosed from a cliff. Words can drift unnoticed like a weed seed on a breeze. Words can sing.
I am the face in the mirror, the thoughts in my head. I am not made of them. I am me.
A king is a servant to his people. He rules by their consent. If the king fails his people, it is their right to rebel.
Unlike numbers, words were rarely just one thing. They moved and changed, camouflaging and leaping out unexpectedly. Words were slippery and alive; words wrestled out of her grip and became something new. Words were dangerous.
“My ma says a rock lasts forever, but people don’t, and that’s what makes them more precious.”
A kingdom at war with itself will not long stand. Let us wash the blood from our hands and start anew.
“An idea is like a fire under ice. You can try to put out the fire, but the melting has already begun.”
‘I think so’ isn’t going to save my head.” “Your head will be fine,” said Miri. “It’s your neck you should worry about.”
Kisses were like words, she thought. They meant many things, their meanings fickle, dangerous even. Kisses could be lies, or they could be promises. She could feel the truth of Peder’s kiss in her ribs, in her heart, in the breath held in her lungs. She believed his kisses.
The ache of the missing fills my chest, yet it does not hurt. It almost feels good, because it reminds me I have a family I love and that I will see you again.
