Quotes from Holly Black

I just keep making the same mistake," she said. "I go to a party and I kiss some guy who I would never think of kissing at school. Guys I don't even really like. It's as though out here, in the woods, they're going to reveal some secret side of themselves. But they're always just the same.

The water is cold, but his kiss is colder.

Have I told you how hideous you look tonight?" Cardan asks, leaning back in the elaborately carved chair, the warmth of his words turning the question into something like a compliment. "No," I say, glad to be annoyed back into the present. "Tell me." "I cannot," he says, then frowns.

I think of the note I found, of the press of his nibbed pen hard enough to send flecks of ink spattering as he wrote my name. Hard enough to dig through the page, maybe to scar the desk beneath. If that's what he did to the paper, I shudder to think what he wants to do to me.

Rzecz w tym, ?e gdy czego? wyj?tkowo mocno pragniemy, gotowi jeste?my zaryzykowa? prawie wszystko.

He behaved as though he had a heart of stone, so she gave him one.

Everything is ferns, leaf mold, the crackle of fire, and the hum of distant voices.

Cardan won't forgive you for what you're doing with her.' I pause, unable to pass by without listening for his answer. But Locke only laughs. 'Is he more angry that you chose me over him or that I chose a mortal over you?

Mo?e to nie jest takie straszne, kiedy ktoÅ› pragnie by? kochany, nawet kiedy nie jest. Nawet jeÅ›li to sprawia ból. Mo?e bycie istotÄ… ludzkÄ… nie zawsze oznacza sÅ'abo??.

Though he means me harm, I will miss him. I will miss the way he moves through the world, as though nothing could be so terrible that he might not laugh at it.

An unnamed favour is a dangerous thing to give...

Jude, nie próbuj zrobi? tego na siÅ'Ä™. Pozwól, ?eby samo przyszÅ'o.

if i can't be better than them i'll become much worse

One of the hobs who used to work here, Nell Uther, would find me and guide me back to my room, telling me that if I couldn't sleep, then I ought to just close my eyes and lie still. That at least my body could rest, even if my mind wouldn't.

Trees of ice grow blue fruits the size of peaches, encased in a frozen crust. Some have fallen and split open like candy apples. The scent is that of honey and spice and sap. The leaves of the trees give off a haunting sound not unlike wind chimes when the air blows through the branches.

Cardan had grown up in the palace, a wild thing to be cosseted by courtiers and scowled at by the High King. No one much liked him, and he told himself he cared little for anyone else. And if he sometimes thought about how he might do something to win his father's favour, something to make the Court respect him and love him, he kept that to himself. He certainly asked no one to tell him stories, and yet he found it was nice to be told one. He kept that to himself, too.

I hate you," I whisper before he can speak. He tilts my face to his. "Say it again," he says as the imps comb my hair and place the ugly, stinking crown on my head.

To show you what you would not otherwise believe,' Locke said. 'Envy. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. They're all spices.' He laughed at my expression. 'What is bread without salt? Desire can grow just as plain.' 'I don't understan-' He put a finger against my mouth. 'Not every lover can appreciate such spices. But I think you can.

What did he offer you?' I ask, like we're all in on the same joke. Yes, it's a gamble. Maybe Cardan didn't offer them anything at all. I try not to seem like I'm holding my breathe. I try not to show how small Cardan makes me feel. The Ghost gives me one of his rare smiles. 'Mostly gold, but also power. Position.' 'A lot of things he hasn't got,' said the Bomb. 'I thought we were friends,' Cardan says halfheartedly.

JeÅ›li dojdzie do walki, skup siÄ™ na tym, co masz przed sobÄ…. Walcz za siebie, niech inni sami pilnujÄ… swojej skóry.

His smile said that she'd given the wrong answer.

Maybe the point of real friendship isn't that you have to repay kindness, but whatever. At least I should try.

By the fire, a spindly, insectile faerie stirs a big pot. 'You want soup, mortal?' I shake my head. 'You want to be soup?' it asks hopefully.

KÅ'opot w tym, ?e kiedy prze?yje siÄ™ coÅ› strasznego czy wielkiego, zostajÄ… i wracajÄ… najrozmaitsze uczucia, które czÅ'owiek przedtem odsuwaÅ' na bok.