The Enchanted Greenhouse (Spellshop, #2)

by Sarah Beth Durst

She’d made herself a friend because she could not handle one more day of being friendless, of being so far from her family, of living sequestered in her silent and empty corner of the library where the only choice was find a way to bear the isolation or admit that she’d failed to find a place for herself, that she’d made a mistake in leaving home, and that her family and friends were right to say she’d never flourish out in the world on her own.

Sometimes people are going through things that you can’t see because you’re too busy looking up to them.

“People were cruel to you, and it didn’t make you bitter. What else would you call that?” “Naïve? Needy? Pathetic?” “Strong,” he insisted.

When you were young, the world seemed gloriously huge and life infinite, and you were unaware of your own limitations and the barriers the world could erect in front of you.

“If you’re hurt, you’re hurt. It doesn’t matter if anyone else thinks you don’t have a good enough reason. Pain doesn’t require approval.”

“Words matter.” The right words could heal shattered glass. And hearts. And families. And lives.

“I did what I believed was right,” Rijes said. “It’s my duty—in fact, I believe it’s every person’s duty, especially those in power—to reject unjust laws. To choose kindness and empathy, whenever we can.”