Quotes from Holly Black

A stall selling cloaks in all the colours of the sky, from the first blush of dawn to deep as midnight and spangled with stars.

I have no idea what to say to him. "The Latin Club is totally evil," I blurt. "The Latin Club?" I can understand why he's confused.

At least the hem of the skirt doesn't drag impractically on the floor. I can still run in it as I howl at the moon.

Charlie's fingers closed around the bat and she pushed herself to her feet, shaking with adrenaline and fear and rage. With no good ideas, she was going to go for the bad one. They better carve that on her tomb. The Charlie Hall credo.

The Folk do not rot the way mortals do. Sometimes their bodies grow over with lichen or bloom with mushrooms. I've heard stories about battlefields turning in to green hills.

Don't have gold?' calls an antlered shopkeeper. 'Pay with a lock of hair, a year of your life, a dream you wish to never have again.

He stalked back to the enormous moth, but it wouldn't return him to Elfhame until he went to a nearby general store, glamoured leaves into money to buy it an entire six-pack of lager, and then poured the booze into a frothing puddle on the ground for the creature to lap at.

It is no life to be always under someone's control, subject to their will and whim.

I know you're angry with me...' I begin. 'Am I?' he asks, looking up at me as though there is a bitter taste in his mouth. 'Maybe I'm glad that you gave me an opportunity to be my worst self.

I didn't mean to hurt you." He grabs my hand, possibly to keep me from hitting him again. Our fingers lace together. "No, it's not that, not exactly. I didn't think I could hurt you. And I never thought you would be afraid of me.

You're scheming,' the Ghost says, noticing my gaze. ... 'I'm always scheming,' I return.

I know the number of steps to the top of every spire. I know every corner that a child could hide in, every place she could be dragged out from.

I am in over my head. I am drowning.

Enjoy your conversation." Maybe they will. They both hate me. That gives them something in common.

LET ME TELL YOU something about unicorns—they're faeries and faeries aren't to be trusted. Read your storybooks. But maybe you can't get past the rainbows and pastel crap. That's your problem.

The polished wood door is still carved with an enormous and sinister face, still flanked with lanterns, but sprites no longer fly in desperate circles within. A soft glow of magic emanates instead. 'My king,' the door says fondly, it's eyes opening. Cardan smiles in return. 'My door,' he says with a slight hitch in his voice, as though perhaps everything about returning here feel strange. 'Hail and welcome,' it says, and swings wide.

But we all want stupid things. That doesn't mean we should have them.

You could take the job," Balthazar said. "You want to quit the game for good? Go out in style. Come on, Charlatan, you could steal breath from a body, hate from a heart, the moon from the sky." "Flattery is so unlike you.

Neither loyalty nor love should be compelled.

You choose a path without being certain where it leads.

He was as distant as the moon too, as expressionless & grim.

Stories tell a truth, if not precisely the truth.

hobnob with

I spent much of my life guarding my heart. I guarded it so well that I could behave as though I didn't have one at all. Even now, it is a shabby, worm-eaten and scabrous thing. But it is yours.