“For a fleeting instant, in the sad curve of his shoulders, I saw what Comonot could not: the core of decency; the weight he had carried so long; the endless struggle to do right in the wake of this irreversible… — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
“A feeling rose in me, and I just let it, because what harm could it do? It only had another thirty-two adagio bars of… — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
Sometimes the truth has difficulty breaching the city walls of our beliefs. A lie, dressed in the correct livery, passes through more easily. — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
I barely noticed loneliness anymore; it was my normal condition, by necessity if not by nature. — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
“It's such a relief after all these years to learn that you recovered from your fright," he said in a low voice, giving my… — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
“There are melodies that speak as eloquently as words, that flow logically and inevitably from a single, pure emotion.” — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
“Sir James waved a gnarled hand. "They're nothing but feral file clerks, dragons. They used to alphabetize the coins in their hoards.” — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
“He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, exactly, but he did keep it in a place where I could see it.” — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
“I’m attracting small children,” Orma muttered, twisting his hat in his hands. “Shoo it away, will you?” — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
“I heard you, sought you, and have found you. I have reached for you, across space and sense and the laws of nature. I… — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
“I saw the void beneath the surface of the world; it threatened to pull me under.” — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
“Art is a conversation we are all invited to and are all worthy to participate in. Yes, great works can be intimidating, but no one else in the world has what you have—your voice, your eyes, your feeling and perspective. Other people have written great books, but no one else will ever write YOUR book. It's worth writing. That is… — Rachel Hartman Copy Share
The twin gods, Necessity and Chance, walked among the stars. What needed to be, was; what might be, sometimes was. — Rachel Hartman Copy Share Image
