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21 " Ah, selfish. There’s that word again.” Sherry smirked. “It’s been hurled at me many a time, because being a mother and wife is all about selflessness, see?” She imitated a perky, syrupy-sweet voice. “Giving up every molecule of your soul. If you want anything for yourself, you’re accused of being selfish. Marriage and especially motherhood mean being condemned to play second fiddle your entire life. "
― Andrea Lochen , The Repeat Year
22 " It was while he was fixing the footage Max had given him that the doubts about the disc Bernardo had played for him began toplague him with ever growing strength. Alessandro couldn’t contemplate his father doing something so cruel but…Bernardo would certainly know how. Hell, Bernardo had taught him how to fiddle with electronics when he was still a teenager. And he wanted Alessandro under his control, under his roof. Knowing that Alessandro was trying to keep his family together and that entailed moving into their own house, out from the Dardano mansion, would Bernardo try to turn him with false information? "
― E. Jamie , The Betrayal (Blood Vows, #2)
23 " Her fingers flew, her fiddle was an entire orchestra, and every note beautifully brought into being struck a chord of satisfaction within her. She wondered at the unfamiliar lightness in her chest and realised she was laughing. So great was her focus, it took her a while to register the strange expression that crept to Brocker's face as he listened, finger tapping the armrest of his chair. His eyes were fixed behind Fire and to the right, in the direction of Archer's back doorway. Fire comprehended that someone must be standing in Archer's entrance, someone Brocker watched with startled eyes. And then everything happened at once. Fire recognised the mind in the doorway; she spun around, fiddle and bow screeching apart; she stared at Prince Brigan leaning against the door frame. "
― Kristen Cashore
24 " All day the storm lasted. The windows were white and the wind never stopped howling and screaming. It was pleasant in the warm house. Laura and Mary did their lessons, then Pa played the fiddle while Ma rocked and knitted, and bean soup simmered on the stove. All night the storm lasted, and all the next day. Fire-light danced out of the stove's draught, and Pa told stories and played the fiddle. "
― Laura Ingalls Wilder , On the Banks of Plum Creek (Little House, #4)
25 " You know." he said, resting the fiddle in his lap, " once you love something enough--enough to let it consume you completely--it becomes part of you, even when it's buried and quiet. "
26 " He could fiddle all the bugs off a sweet-potato vine. "
27 " Had I learned to fiddle I should have done nothing else. "
