Harrowbethian Quotes & Sayings

If you're a Black artist, you could paint a wall of smiley faces, and someone will still ask you, 'Why are you so angry?' — Kara Walker

I'd better be a poet
Or lay down dead. — Jack Kerouac

Hey, guard!" Ian hollered out loud. "Do you think we could get a bathroom break?"
The guard seemed to snicker as he pointed to the grass outside the cell. Eena smirked at how dead-on her thoughts had been after all.
"Come on," Ian complained. "She can't do that, she's a girl."
The soldier smiled wryly, a shrug communicating his indifference.
Eena laughed in her mind.
(I don't know what you think's so funny. You're the one who's gotta pee.)
Oddly enough, that fact just made her laugh even more. — Richelle E. Goodrich

The hardest metal yields to sufficient heat. Even so must the hardest heart melt before sufficiency of the heat of non- violence. And there is no limit to the capacity of non-violence to generate heat. — Mahatma Gandhi

I hate you, Edgar. I hate you with all my heart. — Richelle E. Goodrich

Scott Foley was always fun because he's a very funny guy. So I liked working with him a bunch. — Ian Gomez

The emotion of sex brings into being a state of mind. — Napoleon Hill

But you will die, Amora."
"I know." She couldn't help but smile at his bemusement. "It's a fact I've always known, just like my ancestors before me. Don't you see? That's what makes us who we are. That's what makes life valuable, Pallador, knowing that each and every day we live is a gift. Therein lies mortality's great value. We cherish it because of its temporality. It's precious because it is fleeting. — Richelle E. Goodrich

Ian was a good man - honest, trustworthy, loyal, and of honorable character. His desire to keep his promise to Angelle and to be a respectable servant of Harrowbeth would always take president over any personal feelings, no matter how intense or gratifying they might be. He would never betray Harrowbeth. He would never cheat Derian or Angelle. He would never deceive his queen, even if in so doing he would find a love and happiness they both longed to share. His commitment to what he saw as right meant more. — Richelle E. Goodrich

That was the coolest thing ever." Eena smiled at the fact that she'd been lucky enough to touch the wings of a real crioness.
"That was highly unusual. I can't believe they came right up to us - to you."
"They were hungry, I'm sure."
"Still, crioness are cautious. They always avoid people. To let you touch him like it did ... .."
She grinned with pure satisfaction. "Wild huh? Derian's not going to believe me when I tell him." Eena cocked her head when Ian laughed out loud. "What?" she asked, a note of offense in her voice.
"Of course Derian will believe you. When does anything ever happen to you that isn't unreal?"
Knowing he was right, she shoved him off the log anyway. — Richelle E. Goodrich

The old notion that brevity is the essence of wit has succumbed to the modern idea that tedium is the essence of quality. — Russell Baker

She imagined him leaning against the shuttle, entertaining thoughts of scolding her for dressing like a ragged commoner. Never mind that her present outfit was light years ahead in comfort.

(Actually, he's wishing he had been less critical of you earlier. He feels bad that you won't acknowledge his presence, and he blames himself.)

(Quit it, Ian. I'm not going to feel sorry for him.)

She caught her protector's shrewd grin, highlighted by the fire's glow. (You already do, Queenie.)

(This talent of yours is really annoying.)

He leaned close to her ear and whispered, "That's not what you thought earlier when you wanted to get ahold of Efren."

"One tiny rosebud in a handful of thorns," she retorted. — Richelle E. Goodrich

A good youth ought to have a fear of God, to be subject to his parents, to give honor to his elders, to preserve his purity; he ought not to despise humility, but should love forbearance and modesty. All these are an ornament to youthful years. — Saint Ambrose

If there were no guns, we couldn't talk about it, ... You turn on TV, you see soldiers marching with guns. We only talk about things that's happening. — Dr. Dre

The woman laughed again. She was the loudest person in the cave. Eena wondered if perhaps she was talking to a female Ghengat. Curiosity got the best of her and she turned around to look, surprised to find neither a Ghengat nor a Harrowbethian woman, but a Mishmorat. A striking, cheetah-spotted Mishmorat with straight lengths of charcoal hair and the most alluring dark eyes in existence. This bronzed female was the same size as Eena but observably more muscular. She appeared to be a mix of cheetah, Arabian princess, and gladiator in tight-fitting pants. Eena paused, dropping the stone in her hands.
"Kira?" she breathed.
"Hmmm," the woman grumbled. Her painted eyes scrunched with displeasure. The look was still stunning. "I see my reputation precedes me."
Eena gawked as if a legendary ghost had been resurrected. "You're alive? — Richelle E. Goodrich

They went back to scooping up breakfast, licking the mess off their fingers. Soon the pile of berry mush was gone and their tongues were dyed a nice midnight blue. Ian seemed in a good mood, sticking his tongue out playfully at his best friend. Eena did likewise, right back at him. She was happy he was smiling, even if his teeth were purple.
(You're too much fun, Eena,) Ian announced in her mind. (I'm really glad we're friends.)
(Me too,) she agreed. (Best friends.)
Ian leaned back on his hands and watched the waves roll in from far off. The swells were building into large, flat-crested waves.
(Angelle never thought like you do. You're creative and kinda crazy. Her thoughts were always more simple and, well ... ..normal.)
(Yeah, well, deadly dragons and evil witches tend to suck all the normal right out of you,) she grumbled.
(I suppose.) — Richelle E. Goodrich

Despair is not for the living
but for those unable to rise and continue;
they are the only souls with a right to it.
It is an end where breath and strength and will
have vanished, leaving no way to persevere.
To sink into the abyss that is despair
is to suffer an existence far worse than death;
therefore, cling to its enemy, our ally - hope.
For life goes on,
and we must not live in despair.
We must not. — Richelle E. Goodrich