Figgy

“Then why couldn’t Father see that?” not-Triss felt despair and hurt welling up inside her again, and it was all she could do to stop her teeth from sharpening. “Why couldn’t Mother see it?”
“Because they’re stupid,” growled Pen, rubbing at her nose with her sleeve. “They can’t tell when real Triss is fake-crying, so of course they can’t tell when fake Triss is real-crying.”
― Frances Hardinge, Cuckoo Song

“There was a reek in her nose, a slick dark green smell of water that was old enough to be clever and dangerous.”
― Frances Hardinge, Cuckoo Song

“Oh, why don’t we blame it on Pen?” not-Triss heard herself snap, in a voice that sounded harsher and more brutal than her own. something had burst, and the words welled up in spite of all her attempts to dam them. “That’s what we always do, isn’t it? That’s what she’s for, isn’t it? We blame everything on Pen and then we change the subject. And nothing matters as long as we don’t talk about it.”
― Frances Hardinge, Cuckoo Song

“The Library didn’t only contain magical books, the ones which are chained to their shelves and are very dangerous. It also contained perfectly ordinary books, printed on commonplace paper in mundane ink. It would be a mistake to think that they weren’t also dangerous, just because reading them didn’t make fireworks go off in the sky. Reading them sometimes did the more dangerous trick of making fireworks go off in the privacy of the reader’s brain.”
― Terry Pratchett, Soul Music