89
" How would you like it if I said you weren't a person because you're made of mostly water, hmm? How would you like it if I said you weren't real because your body changes all the time, and you aren't made up of the same parts from one year to the next? Your blood changes, your skin changes, your whole body gets swapped out for new bits - it's happening all the time. But I don't say you aren't real, even though your very existence is ephemeral. You are no more real than a cloud. You're here, you live, you die, and the world goes on. You're a breath of wind. Of the two of us, I am more real. I am stone, eternally unchanging. "
― Sarah Beth Durst , The Stone Girl's Story
90
" There were three voices, weaving together, telling a tale of stonemasons.
One stonemason was kind, and he created creatures who could care for the sick, the very young, and the very old.
One stonemason was strong, and she created creatures who could build homes, plow fields, and dig graves.
One stonemason was clever, and she created creatures who could study the stars, measure the mountains, and solve the mysteries of life and death and immortality.
Each one claimed that their creations added more to the world and were more important than the others, and so they fell to arguing, and then challenged one another to battle, with their stone creatures as soldiers. But when it came time to meet on the field, the creatures refused to fight.
Fighting would hurt the sick.
Fighting would destroy the homes.
Fighting would bring only death. "
― Sarah Beth Durst , The Stone Girl's Story
97
" For some crazy reason, he believed in her, and that was extraordinary. No one had ever
believed in her before. Not her mother, who used to call her worthless every time she tried to help around the house and worse than worthless if she didn’t try to help. Not her father, who had informed her on her sixth birthday that she shouldn’t have been born, before he walked out the door never to come back. Not her sisters, who stole her clothes whenever she didn’t hide them. Not her
older brother, who used to hit her but only in places it wouldn’t show. Not her teacher, who’d called her a liar when she’d tried to say she felt spirits. Oh, how she’d loved the day he had been proved wrong! She’d loved the moment when it was her turn to walk out that door! "
― Sarah Beth Durst , The Reluctant Queen (The Queens of Renthia, #2)