Tamora Pierce Quotes

I well knew the rules to follow with our training Dogs: Speak when you're spoken to. Keep out of the way. Obey all orders. Get killed on your own time.

You haven't been bit till a dragon does it.

Folk caught up in a riot aren't our cousins and sisters, our brothers and uncles. They are part of a big animal with many arms and claws, armed with stones and sticks.

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She enjoyed it so much that she didn't realize that Nia had let go of her. She skated two yards alone before she noticed. Then she made the mistake of looking for her partner. Her knees and ankles wobbled. She frantically tried to recapture the rhythm, managing three strokes of the skates before her feet hit the basin's edge. Daja went face-first into heaped snow.

Every Tortallan girl dreamed of descending the Great Stair in the Queen's ballroom with all eyes fixed on her, the knight of her dreams singling her out and bearing her away to a life of bliss. Minstrels made their living off tales of common-born girls presented at court by mysterious—wealthy—guardians for just that fate. Now it was Alanna's turn to descend; she felt a degree of panic she was unaccustomed to as an old palace hand. She had seen hundreds descend the Great Stair to cross the long room and kneel before the sovereigns. In the ballroom she'd met girls who came to court to make good marriages, foreign diplomats and their ladies, merchants, visiting warriors—the list was endless. If they had been as terrified as she was that night, they didn't show it.

“I heard somewhere that immortals are born in dreams. Or our dreams give them shape—something like that. Now, I can see folk dreaming winged horses and unicorns. Even dreaming that a winged horse or unicorn would go bad makes sense. Haven't we all thought somethings a joy, only to find that it's evil inside? But—forgive my saying it; no offense intended—how could anyone dream a Stormwing?” His smile was cruel. “Ages ago, a traveler in the mortal realms went from place to place and found only the leavings of war—the starving, the abandoned, the dead. It was the work of armies, fighting over ground they soon lost again. That traveler sickened of waste—of death. She wished for a creature that was so repulsive, living on war's aftermath, that even humans would think twice before battle. That creature would defile what mortal killers left, so that humans couldn't lie about how glorious a soldier's death is. She dreamed the first Stormwing.” Daine shivered. “But it doesn't seem to make a difference, most of the time.” Leaf, who had trickled down to pool in her lap, nodded. “That's humans for you,” said the immortal cheerfully. “Nothing slows them down for long. But—if one person asks himself—or herself,”—he nodded politely to her—”if the matter to be fought over is worth his corpse being ripped to pieces and smeared with our dung, and decides it isn't, that's all we need to justify ourselves. You'd be surprised how many people changed their minds, knowing that we'd come to live on their pain and play with their bodies. The barrier changed that, Humans forgot us. We've had to start all over. It will take a century before we'll make a difference again.”

Since she had lived in Tortall's Great Southern Desert for over a year, Alanna did not realize she had become famous.

"No one is all-powerful," insisted Sandry. "Maybe, but you'd be surprised how much damage can be done by someone who thinks he is," Briar said bitterly as maids put mushroom and noodle soup and herring salad in front of them. "What on earth happened to you?" demanded Tris, glaring at Briar. "You've done nothing but hint since you came home. Either tell us outright or stop hinting!" Briar glared at her. "What do you care? You don't bother with what's real — only with what's in books." The Namornese were good at pretending they hadn't heard an outburst from one of their companions. They must have a lot of family dinners like this, thought Sandry. Or maybe even imperial ones.

Um, so tamorapierce just followed this blog.

"Is this your witch-thing, peasants?" demanded a big, handsome young man as the hunting party came within shouting distance. "It ruined our sport! Drove off every grouse and wood pigeon for miles!" Daja asked her friends, "Did he say 'peasants'?" Briar looked over his shoulder at her. "He definitely said 'peasants.'" "Someone needs spectacles." Tris pushed her own spectacles higher on her nose.

Daja had to grin. "Ah. The Sandry effect." She held up a hand. "No, I don't expect you to know what I mean. You just reminded me that when we four lived together — at Winding Circle temple in Emelan for four years — now and then we'd find people who looked flattened, dismayed, and happy. Then we always knew Sandry was nearby. Once she decides to make your life better, look out! It's easier to throw yourself off a cliff than it is to keep her from sweeping you up when she's in that mood."

At the dawn of the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, all those with any magic—Gift, immortal, and wild—woke suddenly, laboring to hear something that was not a sound. In Tortall, Numair Salmalin, one of the world’s great mages, sat up in bed, pouring sweat. Though he could not see them, he knew what all the other mages in the palace and city were doing. The king, awake and at work in his study, knocked his chair over when he jumped to his feet. Harailt of Aili, dean of the royal university, flailed in bed and fell out with a thud. Gareth the Elder of Naxen pressed a hand to his laboring heart; Kuri Taylor swayed on her feet, half fainting. Even those with wild magic registered on Numair’s senses. Onua of the Queen's Riders jumped out of her dawn bath, shrieking a K'miri war cry. Stefan Groomsman dropped out of his loft, landing safely on bales of hay while the horses who loved him whickered in concern.