The Winter of the Witch (Winternight Trilogy, #3)

by Katherine Arden

The difference between uncanny happenings of the benevolent and the wicked sort was no thicker than rumor,

Have you never thought that heaven and hell are both nearer you than you like to believe?”

“Men do the work of devils, do they not? It has always been so.”

“She was as wild as the sea,” he rejoined. “And full, like the sea, of mysteries.”

“There are no monsters in the world, and no saints. Only infinite shades woven into the same tapestry, light and dark. One man’s monster is another man’s beloved. The wise know that.”

“The more one knows, the sooner one grows old,” snapped the domovaya.

Think of the girl-children that will not face the fire.”

“Love is for those who know the griefs of time, for it goes hand in hand with loss. An eternity, so burdened, would be a torment. And yet—” He broke off, drew breath. “Yet what else to call it, this terror and this joy?”

“It is not for men and women to presume what the Lord wishes. That way lies evil, when men put themselves too high, saying, I know what God wants, for it is also what I want.

“If you spend all your days bearing the burden of unforgotten wrongs you will only wound yourself.”

“You shouldn’t have told them I was a girl. Then they might have believed that I was dangerous.”