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A Forgery of Roses QUOTES

A Forgery of Roses QUOTES

61 " I’ve never been great with people. "

― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses

62 " I should have been here.”
“You’re doing what you can,” Ava says.
“It’s not enough, though, is it,” I spit through my teeth. "

― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses

63 " I’m sorry, too. It’s not you I’m upset with. Not really. My parents used to bring me to events back when they still had dreams of me, their glorious firstborn, carrying on the family legacy. They thought if they forced me to ‘push through’ the discomfort it would eventually go away and I would grow out of it. But unfortunately, their attempts seemed to have the opposite effect.
It took me going into a full-on panic at one of his speeches when I was eight for them to stop. It was so bad I ended up in the hospital. "

― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses

64 " You remember how Mother used to say that love was the the most powerful magic of all?” I murmur as my tears spatter onto her face. I wait for her to respond, to move, to wrap those arms around me and squeeze.
But of course, she doesn’t.
“She must have lied,” I whisper. “Because the love I have for you? It’s… I’m certain it’s more than anyone has ever loved another human being in the history of the world.” My voice cracks, and I squeeze her tight against me. “If love were magic, it would have saved us long ago. "

― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses

65 " They wanted me to be so much more.”
“I’m so sorry August. You deserve better than that.”
He grimaces and rifles through another stack of canvases. “I’m not so sure.”
I think of him last night, of him offering to help me clean the vase. Him escorting me to the cellar and insisting on staying with me so I didn’t have to be alone. Him offering to talk to the cook on my behalf.
If I’d known how uncomfortable doing those things had made him, how much he was pushing beyond his fears in order to help someone he’d just met…
Maybe I’ve had the wrong idea about him—and maybe his family has, too. "

― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses

66 " I slide a particularly stunning weapon from its mounting and inspect the gems glittering on its hilt. “What kind is this one?”
“That,” August says with a slight grin, “is a broadsword. And I highly doubt that it is what killed my brother.”
“Why not? It’s the right width!”
He holds up his hands. “I’m just saying that it doesn’t seem likely. Swords are much more conspicuous than daggers. If someone was carrying that around, I think people would have noticed.”
“En guard!” I say, swinging it.
He snorts. “Very terrifying.”
“This is heavy. How do people actually fight with these things? I feel like I’m going to lose my balance.”
“That’s because you’re standing all wrong. You need to spread your feet more and sink into your knees.” He demonstrates for me, bouncing a bit to show me his knees aren’t locked.
I try to mimic the stance.
“Good,” he says. “Now grip the sword. One hand under the cross guard and the other down close to the pommel.”
I move my hands into the places he indicates and thrust the sword as though stabbing an imaginary foe.
He snorts again. “No, no, no.”
“Stop laughing. I’m fearsome.”
“I guess that’s one word you could use.”
“It’s the only word.” I stick my tongue out at him. “Then tell me, oh wise one, what am I doing wrong now?”
“Your elbows. They look like chicken wings.”
“Well, I’m sorry, but they’re the ones I was born with.”
He chuckles again. “Here. You need to lower them a bit.” He sets the lantern on the floor at our feet, steps around behind me, and presses his hands against my arms.
My breath catches in my throat, and I turn my head. His nose is inches from mine, but he doesn’t back away. Instead, his eyes dip to my lips. "

― Jessica S. Olson , A Forgery of Roses