May I please tell you something, Highness? You're very cold - I'm not - very cold and very young, and if you live, I think you'll turn to hoarfrost - Why do you pick at me? I have come to terms with my life, and that is my affair - I am not cold, I swear, but I have decided certain things, it is best for me to ignore emotion; I have not been happy dealing with it - Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.
This quote captures the quiet intensity of someone guarding their inner world, shielding their emotions just as a secret garden is protected by high walls. The speaker admits to feelings of coldness and youthfulness, yet also recognizes a conscious effort to suppress or ignore personal emotion, perceiving it as a necessary defense. The imagery of turning to hoarfrost suggests vulnerability and fragility that comes with emotional suppression over time, hinting at the potential consequences of emotional detachment. At the same time, there's a paradoxical assertion of not being cold, which highlights internal conflict—a desire to appear emotionally aloof while internally feeling the sting of loneliness or suppressed pain. The description of a heart as a secret garden with high walls emphasizes the complexity of human emotions; some feelings are so deeply guarded that entry is nearly impossible, and this barrier may prevent genuine connection or understanding. This quote resonates with the human experience of vulnerability, resilience, and the choices we make to protect ourselves from pain. It also reflects the tension between societal expectations—such as appearance or composure—and authentic emotional expression. The personal struggle to balance emotional honesty with self-preservation is profound and relatable, illustrating that beneath the composed exterior may lie unspoken stories, fears, and desires. The literary imagery enriches the theme of emotional concealment, making it both beautiful and poignant, capturing the timeless challenge of navigating inner feelings amidst external appearances.
