Robin Hobb book quotes
There are 28 quotes listed in the Assassin's Apprentice category:
First, let me introduce you to yourself.
So I did, but reluctantly, and not at all sure that Burrich was right that bonding with a puppy wouldn't solve anything. I longed for his warm little world of straw and siblings and milk and mother. At that moment, I could imagine no better one.
Many's the time since then that a smile, a compliment on how well my horse had been cared for, and a quick question put to a stable boy brought me information that all the coin in the kingdom couldn't have bribed out of him.
How do you politely explain to someone that you had believed for years he was a moron as well as a Fool?
It was an impressive display of good food abused in the name of fashionable cooking.
Go to her chambers each morning, and do whatever it is she thinks you ought to be doing so that she leaves me alone. And keep doing it until she is as weary of you as I am of her.
It is a heady thing to be suddenly proclaimed the centre of someone's world, even if that someone is an eight-week-old puppy.
Now I've had boys of my own, and I know boys aren't that way. They don't learn, or grow, or have manners when you're looking at them. But turn away, and turn back, and there they are, smarter, taller, and charming everyone but their own mothers.
It was inside me. The more I sought it, the stronger it grew. It loved me. Loved me even if I couldn't, wouldn't, didn't love myself. Loved me even if I hated it. It set its tiny teeth in my soul and braced and held so that I couldn't crawl any further. And when I tried, a howl of despair burst from it, searing me, forbidding me to break so sacred a trust.
It was Smithy.
Look at Lady Patience and her woman, Lacey. They are always about and doing things. Their apartments are a jungle of the lady's plants, and the cuffs of her gowns are sometimes a bit sticky from her paper-making, or she will have bits of leaves in her hair from her herbery work, but she is still just as beautiful.
As we walked her home, Smithy whined beggingly for her attention, and so won from her a cuddle and a pat before we left. I envied him the ability to whine so well. My own seemed to go unheard.
However, when all roads lead to death, there is no point in running down any of them.
I wanted that back, the warm smell of the horses and dogs and straw, the simple tasks, done well and completely, and the good sleep of exhaustion at the end of a day.
Men cannot grieve as dogs do. We should be grateful for that.
Don't do what you can't undo, until you've considered what you can't do once you've done it.
When you cut pieces out of the truth to avoid looking like a fool, you end up sounding like a moron instead.
It made me wish there were a place as much me as that place is you. A place I would keep as secret.
When considering a man's motives, remember you must not measure his wheat with your bushel. He may not be using the same standard at all.
Sometimes, it is better to be defiantly wrong than silent. Look, boy, if you, a mere lad, can realize that either decision is wrong, so can all folk. But at least such an edict would give us a common response. It would not be as if each village were left to lick its own wounds.
Never pretend we are anything but what we are. Assassins. Not merciful agents of a wise king. Political assassins dealing death for the furtherance of our monarchy. That is what we are.
I've taught you quite a bit, these last few years. But hold this lesson closest and keep it always before you. If ever you make it so they don't need you, they will kill you.
Most prisons are of our own making. A man makes his own freedom, too.
If I know your father, he'll face up to it square and do what's right. But Eda only knows what he'll think is the right thing to do. Probably whatever hurts the most.
For there is a very strange peace in giving over your judgement to someone else, to saying to them, 'You lead and I will follow, and I will trust entirely that you will not lead me to death or harm.'
But there it is; sometimes luck belongs to children and madmen. That night I felt we were both.
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I watch him come, stepping with elven grace, hooves entering and leaving the stream without so much as a splash.
Slanting sunlight through the branches gleams his flanks, polishes his high cheekbones, is swallowed in the darkness of his eyes. When he moves his head, light ricochets off his horns. I do not move or speak.
His cloven hooves cut deep into the moss, scoring the rich earth below the green carpet. It is no longer the friend of my childhood who stands there, but the forest god, the hooved and horned one beholding an intruder in his domain.
from "Cloven Hooves"