Lute Quotes

“I stared at the lute. At the darkness of the small holes amid the twisting decoration of the wood. I imagined, ridiculously, a world inside there. Deep in the shell of the lute. Where some miniature version of ourselves could live, safe and invisible and unharmed.”
― Matt Haig, How to Stop Time

“Does the prince play?" asked the lute player.
"Hamish is a wee beast with all stringed things," Fergus said. "Pity those wolves didn't have strings."
Immediately, the woman passed the lute to Hamish. He didn't move his arms in time to take it, so she simply plopped it down in his lap. "I'll trade you a tune for your dish of pears."
Hamish sat there, a frozen little creature with big eyes. Pinned to the bench by fear and by the lute.
How badly Merida wanted him to be able to play fearlessly for this group. Not for their benefit, but for his. How was it that his sense of fun had been replaced by a sense of fear? She whispered to him, "You could play 'Crosses and Squares.'"
Still he was frozen.
Maldouen said, "Don't you think you owe Ol' Flower a tune for saving your life?"
Maldouen was being playful, but he had, without realizing, hit upon the only way Hamish perform: obligation. Hamish let fear rule him, but not at the expense of other people.
Hamish whispered, "All right," and then added, to the dog, "Ma'am," which made the entire table laugh uproariously.
Hamish began to play.
The villagers began to clap in time with him. Hamish played faster. They clapped faster. Hamish played little riffs and twirls, and the villagers got up and danced along with the well-known tune. With the lute in his hand and the tune ringing out strongly, it was almost possible to believe Hamish wasn't afraid, but Merida knew better. This was how it always went. When Hamish played for other people, he always looked like a different person. Straighter, surer. More like Hubert or Harris. This was part of a good show, after all, and he felt obligated to give Ol' Flower a good show.”
― Maggie Stiefvater, Bravely

“A hob played a lute strung with another reveler's hair.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“Sangue se paga com sangue. Fogo se paga com fogo. A coragem é o único caminho. O medo o único pecado. Levante-se e lute, seu desgraçado.”
― Diego Guerra, O Teatro da Ira

“There were whispers of a lute in the silver, a wild and plaintive yet lyrical call.”
― Gina Marinello-Sweeney, Prince of Chandeliers