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Book: Winter Rose
Quotes of Book: Winter Rose
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  1. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    I did not say what I thought; perhaps, if it remained unspoken, it would become untrue.
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  2. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    {...}at the end of a breathless day when the air seemed so heavy and full of molten light, everyone sweated drops of gold instead of brine.
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  3. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    She didn't bother taking off her snow-crusted cloak; she came to us quickly, dripping and shivering, her eyes luminous and strained from trying to see beyond the world.
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  4. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    Above us hung a tapestry of silver and gold and palest green that in my world had faded into white: a great oak so entwined with ivy it had died, its bare branches pushing through the leaves like bone. I stared at the roses, wanting to hold my hands to such red, but like the light, they burned cold.
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  5. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    even I could not guess what misgivings lay behind Perrin's clear eyes. Perhaps none; perhaps he trusted Laurel without question. Perhaps he was right. All I knew is what Laurel's hands said when she spoke Corbet's name. And how often she said it, until it seemed, like the falling of autumn leaves, or the long ribbons of migrating birds, one of the season's changes.
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  6. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    I did not know, until then, that you could disappear into someone's gaze, that bone and heart and breath could melt like shadow into light, until only light was left.
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  7. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    In that place things begin to wear away even as they are built; the living die a little more each day. The sun is too far away; light slides endlessly into night; fire and love consume themselves; the heart tries to warm itself with ashes.
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  8. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    Something - a flick of color, the faint beat of the earth under my feet, or maybe my name in someone's thoughts - made me lift my eyes.
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  9. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    He could pick my heart like a rose and watch it wither in his hand. Sometimes I think he is like that. At other times I think he is as simple and golden and generous as our father's fields. And then I see things in his eyes - things that I have never looked at, and I know that I have walked a short and easy road out of my past, while he has walked a thousand roads to meet me. I know Perrin's past; the same road runs into his future. I don't know Corbet.
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  10. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    Winds shook me apart piecemeal, flung a bone here, a bone there. My eyes became snow, my hair turned to ice; I heard it chime against my shoulders like wind-blown glass. If I spoke, words would fall from me like snow, pour out of me like black wind.
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  11. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    It's so hard to think in winter. The world seems confined in the space of your heart; you can't see beyond yourself.
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  12. Patricia A. McKillip _ Winter Rose

    But you must stop playing among his ghosts -- it's stupid and dangerous and completely pointless. He's trying to lay them to rest here, not stir them up, and you seem eager to drag out all the sad old bones of his history and make them dance again. It's not nice, and it's not fair.
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