“Lord Fellmotte was not a man. He was an ancient committee. A parliament of deathly rooks in a dying tree.” — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Fear of the Locksmiths and Skellow’s thumb-cutting knife flooded Mosca but did not fill her. Somehow there was room in her core… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“However, the crowds all the while maintained their mouse-tense hush, their air of urgency. Fear. There was a reek of it everywhere,… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“She did not hate Clent for the way he had spoken. For most of her life she had been at the mercy… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Again Mosca felt she was up in the rafters, watching the mice. Little mouse, witless with fear. Running the wrong way. And… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
Sometimes fear made you angry. Perhaps after years anger cooled, like a sword taken from a forge. Perhaps in the end you… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Names were important. You carried your name like a brand. You never lied about it, for fear of angering the god under… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Fear made everyone look very alive in a strange and fragile way, like the last flare of a candle before it dies.” — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“It is dangerous to lock oneself away and lose track of what is happening outside.” — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Clent, however, suppressed any sense of pity without the slightest difficulty. His brain was busy with the icy clockwork of calculation. If only this… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“I swam across the torrent of my madness, and pulled myself upon the shore of a new and better sanity.” — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Before her escort could react, she sprinted out from their little pool of lantern-light into the darkness, her feet pounding the soft, treacherous clods… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“She was not undamaged, however, and she knew it. No food or drink had passed her lips, but she had drunk deep of the… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“All her life, Neverfell had suffered the dull, embarrassed ache of the knowledge that she was always the maddest person in the room. Funnily… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Well, if you are to help me with my work, you had better get used to stories without endings. True stories seldom have endings.” — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“And you may comfort yourself with the thought that you have been the caltrop under her satin shoe every step of the way. You… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“The little pedlar, it seemed, fancied that he had the tools to fix the wheel. The footmen were glad to hear this, and agreed… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“For a second, she could almost see Caverna as the Kleptomancer did, a murky, monstrous beauty, smiling her fine-fanged smile as she prepared to… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you’re sane? That you’ve always been sane? That perhaps you’re the sanest person in the city?"… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
“Thank you," she whispered. "I promise I will not interfere in Court business again." "Oh yes, you will." Zouelle looked up to see her… — Frances Hardinge Copy Share Image
