Lev Grossman

Something heavy and invisible had relaxed its taloned grip, left its familiar perch on his shoulders and winged away on the stiff breeze. Let it weigh down somebody else for a while, he thought. Probably it would be waiting for him when he got home again. But for now it could wait.

Though the funny thing about never being asked for anything is that after a while you start to feel like maybe you don’t have anything worth giving.

“That’s why you go. To find out if it’s enough. You just have to be sure you want to find out.”

Because there was something she did enjoy, or would enjoy, whether or not she should. She just had no access to it. That thing was magic.

Or maybe there wasn’t more, but he was going to find out. And how did you find out? You had an adventure. That’s how.

He wished he weren’t so tired. And so stupid. He wished he could either fall back in love with Julia or get over her all the way. Maybe he was stuck in between forever, like the space between the portals. Food for the trolls.

They’d miss him but they’d live. Quentin, king of Fillory, needed Fillory more than Fillory needed him.

Here was somebody who was having a good time. He was doing what he wanted and enjoying himself. He’d been through everything Quentin had been through: he lost the girl he loved, and he nearly died. He didn’t sit around moaning and philosophizing about it. He bounced back and set himself up in a palazzo.

“You wish to be a hero, but you do not know what a hero is. You think a hero is one who wins. But a hero must be prepared to lose, Quentin. Are you? Are you prepared to lose everything?”

She couldn’t go back, she knew that now. The magic kingdom was closed to her. But some days she couldn’t see a way forward either.