A Court of Hearts and Hunger (Wicked Darlings, #2)

by Rebecca F. Kenney

it’s the agony of the creative, to care deeply about the reaction of those who consume one’s art.

Maybe love is simply reminding someone how wonderful they are, how strong they are. Showing them the shining potential you can see. Lifting them up to be the best of themselves.

Curiosity is the dagger on which we impale ourselves.

I figured there would be distasteful things involved. It doesn’t matter to me. I want to know everything about you, even the nasty bits.” “I beg your pardon.” I draw myself up to my full height. “I have no nasty bits. I’m a delight from tongue to taint.”

“To view art is to be changed instantly,” I say softly. “When you experience it, you are perceived in unexpected ways, and in return you perceive an aspect of the world you never saw before. You are altered in the blink of an eye, and you step away as someone new.

“If you don’t know where you want to go, it doesn’t matter whether you get there or not.”

Perhaps that’s what love is—the gradual disappearance of the walls between two souls. Some walls evaporate on their own; others have to be dismantled, brick by brick. Sometimes you reach out, thinking all the walls have been deconstructed, only to find a thick glass shield around the heart of the one you love. Only the heat of a persistent, intense devotion can ever soften it.

one person's freedom is another's oppression. What you call freedom is just an excuse to be cruel to the weak, the defenseless, and the less fortunate.”