Robin M. King > Quotes

“Secrets are like scars. The cut may no longer be there, but the scar’s white line tells a story. Unless you share it, it’s like you’re hiding a part of yourself the whole world can already see. They may not know the how or the why, but they see it just the same.”
― Robin M. King, Van Gogh Gone

“This was it. This would be my final mission. An overwhelming sadness swept over me at the realization. There would be no more racing across campus to replace the missing arm of the Caesar Augustus statue with one made of pink duct tape. My mind would no longer be used as a photographic tool to unveil a terrorist’s plan. No more last-minute science experiments to help rescue a father and daughter from a terrorist organization. I wouldn’t get to rescue myself with the aid of a Millard-enhanced device. No more disguises involving wigs and glasses to save a Van Gogh painting. The Mariinsky Theatre, the Superman building, the Louvre—my stories would disappear, along with my memories. Light had vanished around me as the ocean swallowed me. I’d been unable to save a helpless girl from her evil kidnapper. In the darkness I heard Daly’s voice, clear and strong, almost like he was there. Don’t give up. Fight. Push yourself. Alexandra Stewart can make a masterpiece out of any canvas. He was right—I couldn’t give up. (page 206)”
― Robin M. King, Memory of Monet

“The ticket in my hand moved in the slight fall breeze as I staggered back onto my rock. My body shivered. I should have been shocked by the paper in my hand. I should have called Professor Golkov and asked him for answers or more information. I should have just gone back to my dorm and ignored the unfamiliar feeling rising through me. I should have done a lot of things, but I always did what I should. When the foreign feeling spread through me and filled my being, I finally realized what it was. Thrill. I felt like I held the answer to my life’s puzzle in my hands.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“No one should have to . . . you shouldn’t have to . . . there are some things that are better left forgotten.”
His words soothed me. Somehow he saw past the novelty of what I could do, and comprehended the anguish that could be associated with perfect recall—remembering every embarrassment, harsh word, traumatic experience.
“You don’t always have to act so tough all the time. I’m here.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“Our minds and bodies are one,” said the sensei. “When we can conquer a troubled mind, we can focus on the workings of the body and do things we would have once thought impossible.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“I’m glad you have enjoyed reading the classics. There are treasures hidden within them that many people have yet to discover and that others will never understand.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“No one can completely erase their minds of thoughts. You must focus on those things that bring peace and joy. In turn, other parts of your mind—especially those that house fear, confusion, and sadness—will begin to fade but not disappear. The clarity of a peaceful mind allows us to make accurate choices about our life and the reactions we have to life’s circumstances.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“William’s head tilted and the fluorescent lights above us reflected in his eyes, making them glow like translucent sapphires. “I wasn’t sure I had anything here in Providence drawing me back.” He studied my face and then smiled that schoolboy grin from all my memories. “But I don’t think Providence has seen the last of me yet.”
― Robin M. King, Memory of Monet

“The determination in me to set about on this unknown course of direction made me to smile. For the first time in a long while, life had meaning and excitement.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“I almost laughed when I realized I was more terrified about seeing William than I had been in the burning warehouse or hanging from the ledge, or having the gun barrel pointed in my direction. There really had to be something wrong with me.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“Right before he left, he said something I’ll never forget. He said that no matter how hard it got, I should continue to hope, because no matter how dark the night became, how bleak the blackness that fell, the dawn would come. Sometimes early, sometimes late, but it would always come.”
(Page 49)”
― Robin M. King, Van Gogh Gone

“I know this place, what we do, might seem a little . . .”
“Intriguing, adventuresome, dangerous,” I interjected, excitement pulsing through me.
“I was going to say overwhelming, but I can see Golkov might be right about you.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“I didn’t realize this building had a basement,” I said.
“Basement might be a bit of an understatement.” He grinned over his shoulder. When I responded with a raised eyebrow, he said, “You’ll see.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“Ms. Stewart, wait,” he said quietly, even though the old Marston building was empty.
I turned around to face him. His eyes stared straight into mine.
“You don’t have to do this,” he said gently as he reached out and took hold of my arm. “You can say no. Golkov trusts you. He would let you just walk away. You can have a normal life, graduate from Brown, have a career and a family. If you join us, things will become more complicated. You’ll have to keep this, what we do, from everyone around you, even the people you care about. Yes, there will be intrigue and excitement, but you need to understand that in committing to this cause, the good may not outweigh the dangers placed in your path.”
Who does he think he is? He doesn’t even know me and what I want or need. I don’t need someone to just waltz into my life and start giving me advice like he knows what is best for me. My anger toward him returned to a boil.
“Thanks for your concern, Mr. Daly,” I couldn’t help the acrid timbre that fell from my lips, “but I can take care of myself.” I shook my arm free and abruptly turned around to walk home.
Deep down I knew that I had already made my decision. I didn’t need the time to think about my choice. Mr. Daly’s unsolicited advice would not sway me. I was going to become a part of an organization whose mission was secretly protecting mankind. I was going to become part of The Company.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“Perfection is overrated,” my mom used to always say when things weren’t going my way. It never made sense when I was younger, but I was beginning to see that life had more meaning in its imperfections. Without the bad, how could we ever appreciate the good?”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“I couldn’t skip what happened next or fast-forward through it. I knew what was coming and wanted to rewrite it and film a new scene, but I wasn’t the director of my memories.
There was nothing I could do but scream.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“Defense is not necessarily about overpowering your opponent. Outwitting them can be just as important.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“The idea of beating him was very enticing. There was something about his self-assurance and cockiness that made me want to see him flat on his back.”
― Robin M. King

“We had been two sides of the same coin, attached by a force stronger than family or friends. We had been one.”
― Robin M. King, Memory of Monet

“I stepped closer and studied the oil on canvas. The scene displayed ocean waves tossing a fisherman’s ship to and fro, a crewmember frantically pulling on the sail while twelve other petrified fishermen held onto the ship’s mast or ropes. The boat’s captain remained calm. Only one fisher’s eyes stared unafraid straight at me—the one that resembled the painter himself, like he knew the ending of the story before I did.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“We all wear masks, and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin.”
“André Berthiaume,” I said.
“What?” he asked.
“The French writer who said that.”
Mr. Daly smiled and leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by now that you’ve read that somewhere. What he meant is that being an operative is a mask we wear, a job we do. It’s not exactly who we are, but it’s always a part of us too. If I stopped being a handler tomorrow, some piece of me would always be on a mission.”
I thought about that for a minute. “So what you’re saying is now that I’m an operative, there’s no turning back?”
“No.” He sat up straight and leaned closer to the railing. His voice came out with a quiet intensity. “What I’m saying is that it was already a part of you before you even got here.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“Before a secret is told, one can feel the weight of it in the atmosphere.”
― Robin M. King, Van Gogh Gone

“Do you think they’ll ever be a place for us? I mean, do you think there’s a place for someone who lives under the radar, someone who has to pretend, someone who is a spy?”
“Yes.” Daly said it with such confidence that I sat up in my bed, my cast dangling over the edge.
“How do you know?” I asked.
“There has to be. I don’t usually philosophize, but I do know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“That even when we’re pretending, even when we’re hiding under wigs or accents or clothes that aren’t our style, we can’t hide our nature. Just like I knew from the moment I met you that you would choose this life. And just like I knew, when you told me about this mission, that you would agree to help the CIA find this girl. You would sacrifice yourself and your time with your brother to save someone. It’s just who you are.”
“I’ve already messed things up, Daly. What if I’m not good enough? What if I can’t do it?”
“That’s the thing, though. You’ll find a way.”
I lay back again and buried the side of my face into my pillow. “I’m just not sure how.”
“If you continue to think as you’ve always thought, you’ll continue to get what you’ve always got,” Daly said. I considered that. I wasn’t ready to give up. At least not yet. “That one is Itosu wisdom, in case you wondered.”
I yawned into the phone. “It’s good advice.”
“I’ll let you go. You should be resting. Don’t you have school in the morning?” He said the last part in a teasing tone.
“Yeah, if I make it through another day at school. Maybe they’ll get rid of me—kick me out or something. You’d think I would have inherited some of my mom’s artistic genius.”
“Can I give you one last bit of advice, Alex?”
“Sure.”
“Throw it all out the window.”
“What?” I stared at my open window. A slight breeze blew the gauzelike drapes in and out as if they were a living creature.
“Everything you’ve learned about art, the lines, the colors, the pictures in your head from other artists—just throw it all out. And throw out everything you’ve learned from books and simulations about being a good spy. Don’t try to be like someone else. Don’t force yourself to follow a set of rules that weren’t meant for you. Those work for 99.99% of the people.”
“You’re telling me I’m the .01%?” I asked skeptically.
“No, I’m telling you you’re not even on the scale.” Daly’s soft breathing traveled through the phone line. “With a mind like yours, you can’t be put in a box. Or even expected to stand outside it. You were never meant to hold still, Alex. You have to stack all the boxes up and climb and keep climbing until you find you. I’m just saying that Alexandra Stewart will find her own way.”
The cool night air brushed the skin of my arm and I wished it was Daly’s hand instead. “You sure have a lot of wisdom tonight,” I told him. I expected him to laugh. Instead, the line went silent for a moment. “Because I’m not there. Because I wish I was.” His words were simple, but his message reached inside my heart and left a warmth—a warmth I needed.
“Thank you, James.”
“Take care, Alex.”
I wanted to say more, to keep him at my ear just a little longer. Yet the words itching to break free couldn’t be said from over two thousand miles away. They needed to happen in person. I wasn’t going home until I found Amoriel. Which meant I had to complete this mission. Not just for Amoriel anymore. I had to do it for me. (page 143)”
― Robin M. King, Memory of Monet

“I trusted Golkov and Mr. Daly, but what if there was more to The Company than I knew? What if I was on the wrong side?”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt

“I wasn’t the violin out of tune anymore. It was like he suddenly came to the piano and played the A so I could tune my string. It felt so right to be next to him, so comfortable. My rapid-beating heart began to slow, and I let my exhausted body lean closer to him. I laid my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. He stroked the side of my face until, at last, my mind and body gave up the fight of the last two days and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.”
― Robin M. King, Remembrandt