Francesca Haig > Quotes

“I’m not sure that secret goat-farming is the most effective show of defiance.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“A history written in ashes, in bones. Before the blast, they say there'd been sermons about fire, about the end of the world. The fire itself gave the last sermon; after that there were no more.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“When did we become grateful for such small mercies?”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“I closed my eyes. “I didn’t choose this. I didn’t choose to be some kind of secret weapon.” “I know that,” said Zoe. “But maybe you should.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“The next morning, as usual, I woke from dreams of fire.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“And if you just keep running, what’s the point then? He let you leave because he thought you’d be valuable—thought you could help us.” My voice was unsteady. “I tried to help, and all I did was get locked up by the Assembly, and draw the Confessor to the island. I don’t know what everyone thinks I’m supposed to be able to do now.” “Nor do I. So far, to be honest, I’m not seeing what all the fuss is about. But Piper saw something in you. And the Alphas sure as hell found a use for their seer. So it seems to me that running away is just throwing away the sacrifice that he made. That all those people on the island made.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Although we were huddled close on the narrow ledge, the dark as it settled brought with it a sense of anonymity, made it easier to talk. I found myself telling Kip about the years in the Keeping Rooms, and even before: the six years at the settlement, and my childhood at the village, too. “Sorry—I’ve probably talked too much.” I could feel his shrug where our shoulders touched. “It’s not as though I’m full of stories to share.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“I took a slow breath, closed my eyes, wondered how to convince him of something that felt so nebulous, even to me. The sound of a splash startled my eyes open, to find that he’d pushed off from the shallows toward me already.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“There were several paths that zigzagged their way down to the coast, but the islanders relied on the tunnels rather than those narrow, circuitous trails, deliberately kept small so they couldn’t be seen from the water. We avoided them, too, for fear of encountering soldiers from either side, and instead took our chances on the steep, jagged rock. In places it was so sharp that to grab at it for balance was like grasping at blades; at others it was so thickly coated with bird droppings that any purchase was impossible.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Since the Keeping Rooms, the sun and the open sky retained their novelty—even the hellish boat journey hadn’t destroyed the pleasure of sun on my skin. It was a pleasure, too, just to concentrate on simple bodily sensations. To step back from all the machinations and complications and to focus instead on sun on skin, skin on stone. In the Keeping Rooms, I’d had to resort to pain to keep my mind from the nightscape of my visions and fears. Now, pleasure did the same thing.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“The Confessor laughed gently. “How very sweet. But you’re not quite one of them, are you, Cass? You’re worth more than any of them. This Piper, at least, must have realized what you could be worth to them, or he’d have killed you as soon as he got hold of you, to be rid of Zach.” She cocked her head slightly as she stared at me. “Though I’m beginning to wonder whether I didn’t overestimate you. Whether we all didn’t. I’m sure you have your moments. I’m guessing we have you to thank for the evacuation of most of the islanders; probably the fire at New Hobart, too. But I’m surprised at your blind spots. You still haven’t harnessed what you’re capable of, it seems.” She’d drawn even closer to us, but as always it was her mental presence that was most confronting. The calculation behind her still eyes; the probing that made me want to wince. “You’re disappointing, Cass. Like these machines. It turns out they’re not everything we might have hoped. Oh, they’re great for storing the information. It’s all in there.” She waved vaguely at the stacks of machines below. “You should have seen the record chambers at Wyndham, before Zach and I had it moved into the computers here. They had the information, but it was so unwieldy. Now, if I need to find something straightforward, it’s phenomenally good. Think of the thousands of clerks we’d need, all scuttling about with millions of files, just to keep track of the basic details. With the computer, it’s all synthesized, in one system. Like a live thing. So I can tap into it, interact with it, use the information as fluently as thinking. If we’d stayed with paper records, we’d never have been able to do what we’ve done.” “And what a tragic loss that would be.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“The Council’s expanding the refuges, at least, but it’s still nonsensical.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“For most of the day we rested, under cover of a scrubby copse, and when we set off in the afternoon we avoided the roads. By the time darkness was sloping into the valley, we’d skirted north of the city to join the river, me leading the way.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Nothing in this mountain town looked as well preserved as that box had been. The strangest thing about the place was the disjunction between the town itself—the desolate, vacant space—and the crowd of impressions that surrounded it. To me, it was almost a roar, the sheer volume of lives that had shared this space. Their absence was as vivid as their presence. It didn’t feel like my visions—not even my visions of the blast. It was more like a residue. It was the resonance of a bell, echoing long after the bell itself has stopped.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“He had shrugged off the furtiveness, and the tentativeness, of our months on the run.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“What chance, then, for me, contending with the visions at the same time as the unrelenting walls of my cell? In a year or two, I thought, that might be me, counting out my footsteps as if the neatness of numbers could impose some order on a broken mind.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“There were other rumors, too, though these were rare and were shared more furtively: murmurings about Omega resistance, and whispers about the island. But watching my neighbors’ resignation as we rebuilt the barn, these ideas seemed far-fetched. The Council had ruled for hundreds of years; the idea that there could be any place free of their control was nothing but wishful thinking.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“For me and Zach, forbidden entry to school in our unsplit state, reading had been a furtive and therefore somehow intimate act. The two of us, under our mother’s tutelage or, more often, alone together, scratching out the shapes of letters in the clay banks of the river, or in the dust of the yard behind the house. Later, there were books, but only a few. A reading primer with pictures that our father had kept from his own childhood. The Village Book, held in the Village Hall and laboriously inscribed with histories of the area, of the local Councilmen, and of the laws they oversaw.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Outside, in the harbor, the boats held their evening conversation: the creaking of bows, the straining at buoys.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“In front of us, crenellations toothed the wall that overlooked the drop below. Behind us, the wall of the fort continued vertically, carved straight into the side of the mountain.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“Looking at Kip, I saw that the day’s sun had already reddened his back, which was also trellised with cuts and scratches.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“The tall man had introduced himself: Owen. His earlier terseness was still present but was outweighed by curiosity.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“La destrucción es un momento, pero las cosas que valen la pena necesitan tiempo.”
― Francesca Haig, The Forever Ship

“At night, I paced the cell, counting footsteps until the numbers blurred. I took to pinching my arms and pulling hairs from my head, one at a time, trying to use the pain not just to keep myself awake but also to locate myself in my real body, and to keep at bay the tanked self of my dreams. Nothing worked. It was all unraveling: my body; my mind. Time itself was jumpy and fragmented now. Some days I slipped through hours like someone skidding, out of control, down a scree slope. Other days I could have sworn that time stopped, and a single breath seemed to last a year. I thought of the mad seer at Haven market, and the mad Omega on the ramparts.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“I looked around, staring up above the trees. Behind us the valley widened as the river traced its way toward the sea. Ahead, the valley carved an ever-narrowing path between the mountains. On either side, those mountains imposed themselves on the sky. The trees faded out less than halfway up, exposing cliff faces and collapsed sections of scree.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“He continued: “Everything before then, it’s lost to me. Of course it’s sad. And of course I wish I knew. But everything since the smashing of the tank, that’s the After. And I can’t argue with it. It’s what I’ve got. It’s hard to explain, but it’s exciting, in a way. Everything’s new.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“It was refreshing, in a way, to be able to speak openly after all the subterfuge. For those few days before I left, we were more comfortable together than we had been for years.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“I leaned in to examine the sketches next to each name. The Ringmaster’s face looked incongruously warm. Beneath his mass of curly, dark hair his eyes were welcoming, his lips carving a smile. In the sketch to the right, the General’s long pale hair was pulled back from her slim face. Her features looked exaggerated: brows arched, cheekbones sharp. Her eyes lacked the animation of the Ringmaster’s. Instead, her expression was appraising, controlled.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“I don’t think we can finish this without going up and facing her.” “I never thought I’d long for Piper and Zoe, but shouldn’t we come back with them?” I shook my head. “Cass, I’m sure you’re a hellcat in a fight, but when you say ‘finish this,’ don’t you think it would be better if there were more, you know, deadly, knife-throwing rebels involved?” “No. We’ve brought enough on them—we can’t put them at risk like that. Too much of the resistance depends on them. Anyway, with the Confessor, it’s a mind game; I don’t think she could fight any more than the two of us. When I said ‘finish this,’ I didn’t mean it had to come to blood. I just meant”—I paused, struggling to explain it to him—“I meant that this started with us. And the whole time, it’s been her I’ve felt, tracking me. More even than Zach. We can’t keep running away from her. All of this”—I gestured at the machine-encased chamber below us—“she’s the core of it. We can’t finish it without facing her.” I slipped my knife back into its sheath at my belt.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon

“As the dry plains receded and the network of rivers began to spread its grasp, there were more signs of habitation. At first, just a few settlements in the dry but still arable land.”
― Francesca Haig, The Fire Sermon