Mary E. Pearson

Sometimes there's not a better way. Sometimes there's only the hard way.

Who was this girl who thumbed her nose at two kingdoms and did as she pleased?

What I think is all I have left. My mind is the only thing that makes me different from a fancy toaster. What we think does matter-it's all we truly have.

Love _ It__ a nice little trick if you can find it.We had found it.But now I knew finding love and holding on to it were not the same thing.

As we got older, their mischiefs continued to be shrugged off, but mine were not, and I knew from that point that I was measured from a different stick than my brothers.

A sacrifice ever remembered.Never forgotten.Another day we live.A sacrifice for you. Only for you. And so shall it be,For evermore.Paviamma

Words have longer lives than people.

There are no rules when it comes to survival

Ancients pulled metals more precious than gold from the center of the earth - They spun into giant lacy wings that flew them to the stars and back "Is that what you'd do with wings?"She shook her head "No, I'd fly to the stars, but I'd never come back

We already had three steps behind us."Hold on, Lia," I whispered. Hold on for me.

I thought grandmothers had to like you. It__ a law or something.

It made me think how different everything might have been if we had both been born in Terravin.

ChoiceI needed it like I needed air.Bit no one could hear me. No one could listen. No words. No sound.No voice.I couldn't even dream myself away.Choices were made.None of them mine.At first I wondered if it was hell.And then I knew it was.

Don't be afraid, child,The stories are always there.

Their voices meld into a cloudy rumble of their own, and I ponder Mira's and Aidan's secrets and imagine the injustice that threads through other lives, injustice that has no face because it is hidden away in a dark, shameful place, hidden for years in hopes of making it untrue.

I looked at her, unsure how to answer. Even after everything Mikael had done, every day I had to let go again. He was a habit in my thoughts, not any more welcome than a rash, but I'd find myself thinking of him before I even realized what I was doing. Banishing him from my thoughts was like learning to breathe in a new way. It was a conscious effort.

Percentages! Those are for economists, polls, and politicians. Percentages can't define your identity.

My memory is coming back. It is curious how it comes. Each day, a rush of pieces, loosely connected, unimportant bits, snake through me. They click, click, click into my brain, like links being snapped together. And then they are done. A small chain of memories that fill in one tiny part of my life. They come out of nowhere, and most are not important.