Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“She turned to look at him, and he was already looking at her. “I’m going to miss you when I wake up,â€� she whispered, because she realized that she must have fallen asleep under the sun. Arin was too real for her imagination. He was a dream.
“Don’t wake up,â€� he said.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Marry him,â€� Arin said, “but be mine in secret.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Arin. I've wanted to do this for a long time."

Her words silenced him, steadied him.

Anticipation lifted within her like the fragrance of a garden under the rain. She sat at the piano, touching the keys. "Ready?"

He smiled. "Play.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“If I die, you'll survive. If you die, it will destroy me.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“He told himself a story. Not at first. At first, there wasn’t time for thoughts that came in the shape of words. His head was blessedly empty of stories then. War was coming. It was upon him. Arin had been born in the year of the god of death, and he was finally glad of it. He surrendered himself to his god, who smiled and came close. Stories will get you killed, he murmured in Arin’s ear. Now, you just listen. Listen to me.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“He'd believed it. She couldn't believe that he believed it. Sometimes, she hated him for that.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“She said, I'm going to miss you when you when I wake up.
Don't wake up, he answered.
But he did.
Kestrel, beside him on the grass, said. "Did I wake you? I didn't mean to."
It took him a velvety moment to understand that this was real. The air was quiet. An insect beat it's clear wings. She brushed hair from his brow. Now he was very awake.
"You were sleeping so sweetly," she said.
"Dreaming" He touched her tender mouth.
"About what?"
"Come closer, and I will tell you."
But he forgot. He kissed her, and became lost in the exquisite sensation of his skin becoming too tight for his body. He murmured other things instead. A secret, a want, a promise. A story, in its own way.
She curled her fingers into the green earth”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“Little Fists, what's wrong?”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“She'd betrayed her country because she'd believed it was the right thing to do. Yet would she have done this, if not for Arin?
He knew none of it. Had never asked for it. Kestrel had made her own choices. It was unfair to blame him.
But she wanted to.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“Someone was coming through the velvet.

He was pulling it wide, he was stepping onto Kestrel’s balcony—close, closer still as she turned and the curtain swayed, then stopped. He pinned the velvet against frame. He held the sweep of it high, at the level of his gray eyes, which were silver in the shadows.

He was here. He had come.

Arin.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“A lover? Maybe. Something tender, anyway. But tender like a bruise.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“She would have stopped him. She would have wished herself deaf, blind, made of unfeeling smoke. She would have stopped his words out of terror, longing. The way terror and longing had become indistinguishable.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Curse

“As his people positioned themselves in and around the pass, Arin though that he might have misunderstood the Valorian addiction to war. He had assumed it was spurred by greed. By a savage sense of superiority. It had never occurred to him that Valorians also went to war because of love.
Arin loved those hours of waiting. The silent, brilliant tension, like scribbles of heat lightning. His city far below and behind him, his hand on a cannon's curve, ears open to the acoustics of the pass. He stared into it, and even though he smelled the reek of fear from men and women around him, he was caught in a kind of wonder.He felt so vibrant. As if his life was fresh, translucent, thin-skinned fruit. It could be sliced apart and he wouldn't care. Nothing felt like this. ”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Curse

“.. it occured to him that he might have to grow comfortable with happiness, because it might not abandon him this time.”
― Marie Rutkoski

“Innocent? Her? Never.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Kestrel, you are not a basket.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“—El dios de los tontos te quiere a su lado, Arin. ¿En qué estabas pensando para venir a la capital?”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Vio (la revelación se abrió paso entre el miedo) que la muerte no era la única forma de perderla. La perdería si no lograba transigir eso. No confiaba en ella. Esa era la verdad. Pero comprendió que hay ciertas cosas que uno siente y otras que uno elige sentir, y que elegirlo no hace que el sentimiento sea menos válido.
- ¿Confías en mí? -le preguntó ella.
Arin eligió.
-³§Ã­.&°ù»å±ç³Ü´Ç;
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Kiss

“Kestrel was no longer afraid.
And she believed Arin. She believed everything he had ever said to her.
She believed his silence on the other side of the wall, which said that he would stay there as long as she needed.
When Kestrel went inside, she carried his song with her. It was a candle that lit her way and kept watch while she slept.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Curse

“Roncaste tan fuerte que la gente de mis sueños se quejó.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Sin embargo, Kestrel estaba despierta y reconocía el sabor de sus propias mentiras.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Una valoriana resuerda sus deudas.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Niégalo todo hasta que los dioses acaben contigo.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“—El beso fue muy dulce —añadió el jefe de los espíasâ€�.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Levantó la mirada hacia la carpintería con volutas del techo y procuró cuidarse mucho de no insultar al dios de los perdidos.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“—El dios de la suerte debe de amarte —comentó Tensen.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Dioses de la locura y las mentiras. Arin había enloquecido.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“Recordó el castigo del dios de la música, al que habían encerrado en el cuerpo de un árbol durante un ciclo del panteón: cien años de silencio.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“—¿Y cuando crezca y sea lo bastante grande como para comerse a un hombre?
—Entonces haré que lo cuide Arin.”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime

“—¿Cómo conseguiste sobrevivir con esa boca que tienes, esclavito? ¿Le rogaste a tu dios de la suerte?”
― Marie Rutkoski, The Winner's Crime