174 Quotes by Frances Hardinge

She had always known that she was rated less than Howard, the treasured son. Now, however, she knew that she was ranked somewhere below “miscellaneous cuttings.

This was thieves’ cant. Mosca was a lover of words, and she had a sneaking liking for the grimy panache of cant, and those who wore it like a ragged red cloak.

But I’m afraid to sleep!” whispered Trista. “What if I fall to pieces before I wake up? What if tomorrow morning I’m just a pile of leaves and sticks tucked under a blanket? What if this is the last time I’ve got left, and I waste it all being asleep, then wake up dead?

Her past was getting away from her.

It is terribly bad form to admit to being terrified for one’s life, but nobody in their right mind would go to a Court banquet without making preparations. One must have the right costume, the right Faces, and at least eighty-two ways of avoiding assassination.

She could feel her mind pulling loose like knitting, the neat stitches of her artificial days unravelling to become one mangled thread.

A rain shower was rehearsing. A few experimental droplets filled the silence.

Faith had always told herself that she was not like other ladies. But neither, it seemed, were other ladies.

Children are little priests of their parents, watching their every gesture and expression for signs of their divine will.