Andrea Eames > Quotes

“You belong in the world, Foss. You are right to take up space in it, and move through it, and leave your mark on it. There is nothing about you that should be other than it is.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“Perhaps that was what made me hate the sorcerer most, despite my love—that he had woken in me again the desire to be pretty. To hold hands with a sweetheart. To wear the stupid white dress and carry the fresh ears of corn, as tradition dictated, and marry in front of a holy man. All that rubbish. The sorcerer stared at me. “Ugly?” he said. Like he’d never heard the word before.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“I am not precisely a person,” said Sylvester with a certain awkwardness. “Like hells you aren’t,” said Da. “Of course you are.” He reached out and prodded the sorcerer with one of his meaty fingers, startling him again. “That little boy is still in there, somewhere, and he deserved better.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“That was when I was younger, before I realized I was not really a woman but something more like a mule or a laying hen—for use but not for adoration.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“I imagined the look on his face when he saw what flavor of heart he’d harvested, and it gave me some kind of satisfaction.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“I struck at her, and at the same time, I struck at every pretty girl who had ever laughed at, sneered at, or pitied me, and I struck even at the pretty girls who had done nothing to me at all except exist in their prettiness.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“it never occurred to me that women like me—plain, forgettable, sensible women—aren’t allowed to want things, although that seemed clear as cold water to everyone else.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“this room smelled of the overripe armpits of a dozen fancy ladies.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“his limbs looked elegant. I could have taken each of them in my mouth and sucked them like sticks of cinnamon. I could have pressed my cheek against the sole of his foot and been perfectly happy, so happy that it just might have killed me.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“The shine came from inside it, somehow. Just as well, because it would be a right bitch to clean.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“Men are allowed to be ugly, you see, and it doesn’t make a smack of difference.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“Oh, that’s what they tell you,” she said. “They wouldn’t want you thinking that everyone had a bit of magic in them, oh no. You have to be some special, fancy royal person to have magic, is what they’d have you think.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“Now, however, I realized that my detached assessment of it was a pile of shite, because I could have died on the spot right then and there when I realized he had noticed the color of my eyes.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“His hair fanned out behind him in annoyingly perfect curls.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“I should have been terrified but instead, all I felt was a great, boiling annoyance at him and his ridiculous desire to sacrifice himself.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“I wondered what it what it would do to my body if I ate it day in and day out.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“I don’t understand what beauty is for you; but perhaps you can believe me when I say that rightness, that is beauty for me.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“any awe I might have felt disappeared right quick.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“Now he would think that I wanted him to kiss me, which of course I did, but I didn’t want him knowing that.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“You don’t know what it’s like,” I said wildly. “To feel like you’ve always been wrong. That you shouldn’t be here at all.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“Perhaps that was what made me hate the sorcerer most, despite my love—that he had woken in me again the desire to be pretty. To hold hands with a sweetheart. To wear the stupid white dress and carry the fresh ears of corn, as tradition dictated, and marry in front of a holy man. All that rubbish.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“As I watched, he stirred, and the dark blankets fell away a little, exposing part of his chest. I sat frozen, barely daring to breathe. The bespelled part of me wanted to climb into bed beside him, but the rest of me wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible before either he woke up, or I spontaneously combusted.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“One of the advantages of looking plain and nondescript is that it allows you a sort of invisibility sometimes, where a pretty woman would draw attention.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“great beak of a nose,”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“We talked a little, now and then. He commented on the food, mostly, and I managed to reply without falling to the floor or professing my undying love, so I thought I was doing rather well when it came to keeping myself together in the face of the spell.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“I thought I was allowed to moon after a boy, as the others did, and to have fantasies of posies dropped on my doorstep and pebbles thrown at my window at night. That was when I was younger, before I realized I was not really a woman but something more like a mule or a laying hen—for use but not for adoration.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“I wondered if he was slightly unhinged.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“It was odd, seeing him fascinated by me, but I knew he was fascinated by my commonness, my ordinariness, and not by me myself. Despite my brain’s good sense, however, my body responded, and sent a flush to my cheeks, a brightness to my eyes, and made me gesture more than I would normally.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“air—but then, we were”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts

“Every time he came into the shop, I imagined it was to see me. What was worse, so did Da, because he thought the sun shone out of my arse and that I was more beautiful than a thousand sorceresses.”
― Andrea Eames, A Harvest of Hearts