Quotes from Holly Black

Marry me," he says. "Become the Queen of Elfhame.

Isn't every hero aware of all the terrible reason they did those good deeds?" Aware of every mistake they ever made and how good people got hurt because of their decisions? Don't they recall the moments they weren't heroic at all? The moments where their heroism led to more deaths than deliberate villainy ever could?

This is absurd. This is awful. This isn't how people show loyalty. This is epic, epic bullshit.

I kissed him on the mouth, and then I threatened to kiss him some more if he didn't do exactly what I wanted.

I haven't had a very good day. I think I might still be hung over and everyone's dead and my root beer's gone.

Death has his favorites, like anyone. Those who are beloved of Death will not die.

Why am I the way I am?" His tone makes it clear he's proposing something I might suggest he ask, not really wondering about it. "There are no real answers, Jude. Why was I cruel to Folk? Why was I awful to you? Because I could be. Because I liked it. Because, for a moment, when I was at my worst, I felt powerful, and most of the time, I felt powerless, despite being a prince and the son of the High King of Faerie.

The next time you want to make a point,' Jude says, 'I beg you not to make it so dramatically.' His shoulder hurts, and she may be right about the iron poisoning. He certainly feels as though his head is swimming. But he smiles up at the trees, the looping electrical lines, the streaks of clouds. 'So long as you're begging,' he says.

Mine . The language of love is like that, possessive. That should be the first warning that it's not going to encourage anyone's betterment.

I hate him more than all the others. I hate him so much that sometimes when I look at him, I can hardly breathe.

And you think it was sunrise I was waiting for and not my queen. Do you not hear her footfalls? She has never quite managed the trick of hiding them as well as one of the Folk. Surely you've heard of her, Jude Duarte, who defeated the redcap Grima Mog, who brought the Court of Teeth to their knees? She's forever getting me out of scrapes. Truly, I don't know what I would do without her.

And yet, I don't regret it now. Having stepped off the edge, what I want to do is fall.

He continues looking at me in this strange way, as though he's never seen me before or as though he thought he might never see me again.

You didn't get what you deserved, but you don't have to live inside that one story forever. No one's heart has to remain stone.

Let's start with a love story. Or maybe it's another horror story. It seems like the difference is mostly in where the ending comes.

People said that video games were bad because they made you numb to death, made you register entrails splattering across a screen as a sign of success. In that moment, Val thought that the real problem with games was that the player was suppossed to try everything. If there was a cave, you went in it. If there was a mysterious stranger, you talked to him. If there was a map, you followed it. But in games, you had a hundred million billion lives and Val only had this one.

But now I wonder--what if everyone is pretty much the same and it's just a thousand small choices that add up to the person you are? No good or evil, no black and white, no inner demons or angels whispering the right answers in our ears like it's some cosmic SAT test. Just us, hour by hour, minute by minute, day by day, making the best choices we can. The thought is horrifying. If that's true, then there's no right choice. There's only choice.

Flattery will get you everywhere," Sam says, "Except, apparently, off a roof.

There's a monster in our wood. She'll get you if you're not good. Drag you under leaves and sticks. Punish you for all your tricks. Anest of hair and gnawed bone. You are never, ever coming... home.

You have a real talent for getting your ass kicked.

I am coming unraveled. I am coming undone.

Boys change. And so do stories.

Guard your mortal heart.

She knew she shouldn't feel that way about a monster, but right then, she wanted nothing more than a monster of her very own.