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480 pages, Hardcover
First published July 9, 2019
“What a strange treasure is innocence, a virtue to the old and a curse to the young, so highly prized but eagerly parted with—the riches of beautiful skin traded for the wisdom of calluses. — THE BOOK OF BRIN”
“People always believe their problems are the worst, and the rest of the world has it easier, but that cannot be true. Someone has to be wrong . . . right? — THE BOOK OF BRIN”
“Brin had never known anyone with a favorite star before, but she’d never known anyone like Tesh. He had his training; she had her writing, but they always found time for each other—usually at night under a sparkling sky.”
“Brin still had a reputation to protect; Tressa didn’t. In many ways, she was happy to be rid of it. There was a lot less crap to deal with when no one cared.”
“Moya would be laughing, Persephone shaking her head sadly. But then Brin didn’t have their wisdom, their years, their cynicism. For Brin, the world was still a place with empty spaces, blank voids where anything might dwell. Nothing was really impossible. Not yet. Age and experience proved suspicions, hardened rules, deadened imagination. Brin, Tressa felt, was still just young enough to believe the unbelievable.”
“Revenge. That’s what you want, Tesh. And revenge is contagious—evil given for evil received… This justice you’re after—it’s just one more terrible thing someone is doing because something awful was done to them. You aren’t fixing anything. You’re breaking more things and calling it better! And you aren’t freeing the world of a monster, you’re taking its place.”
“The truth is that everyone can achieve greatness, but many don’t try because they think of themselves as merely ordinary.”
What a strange treasure is innocence, a virtue to the old and a curse to the young, so highly prized but eagerly parted with - the riches of beautiful skin traded for the wisdom of calluses.
Things that were obvious in the confines of the heart often failed to translate well when expressed through the inadequate filter of language.
Everything is so obvious when you look back. It is the first time through the garden-of-fear-and-doubt that messes with your head.
— The Book of Brin
Suri had few illusions about her future, except that the path before her was necessary. She’d always known that becoming a butterfly would come at a cost, but she’d never dreamed there would be so many payments.
“And that will fix everything, will it?”
With a bitter fold of his lips, Tesh nodded. “It will fix a lot. It will rid the world of a monster.”
Brin shook her head. “No, it won’t. You’ll only be trading one for another.”
Tesh’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
“Revenge. That’s what you want, Tesh. And revenge is contagious— evil given for evil received.”
“You treat hatred like a fine wine, believing it gets better with age, never expires, doesn’t go bad. But that’s the thing about hatred. It can become rancid, and it’ll turn into poison if you keep it bottled too long. Hatred will eat through any container and seep into the groundwater of a soul. Revenge is never enough to expel it because it keeps. bubbling anew. What you don’t realize – can’t really – is that by that time, it’s all you are. You don’t have the hate in you. The hate is you. When that wine is consumed, you won’t ever be able to rid yourself of it. Can’t vomit it up or spit it out. It’d be as impossible as escaping yourself.”