Quotes from Tanith Lee

Volf welcomed Cyrion like a long-lost brother he had not seen in ten years but for whose company he had continuously pined.

Seldom had a potential murderess been so reverenced and pitied by his victim.

Blood and roses, the sunlight came in through the panes, touching her face with a color it did not have.

Young, handsome, blond as ice, and dressed as splendidly as King Malban himself, if with better taste.

Get us to prove to the world that superstition is idiocy and all the demons are dust.

Mercurio gazed at him with such innocent gentleness it was a pity to doubt it, but Estemba's eyes were clear almost to transparency, dangerous enough for Leopardo not try for him in that moment.

It was the visage of a skull, draped by a transparent shroud of skin, except for the colors which the fire painted on it, now amber, now turquoise, and now the greenest jade.

Fine living is not for you, lads, eh? Well, go out and play in the streets for a while, my honeys.

The hubbub she left behind had disconcerted her and for a while her mind was preoccupied with thoughts and questions. Then abruptly, the air was thin and fragrant around her; she looked back and saw the valley growing small, and it grew small in her mind as well.

Frankly, my dear," Cyrion reproved him, "if you were clever enough to solve the secret of the intaglio, you should have been capable of a better plot than this.

Beautiful as the angels you may be, my soul, but transparent, to a cunning lady of the night. Leave it alone, beloved.

The noon sun, raying through the orange trees, fired his elegant silk clothes, and revealed his hair as pure light. It was a fitting halo for the marvellous face Mareme had compared to an angel's-though whether of the heavenly variety or one of the descended sort, it was somehow hard to be sure.

Being lazy, full of himself; these elements also helped to render him docile.

Peace, my cherubs," said a friendly and musical voice. "I am here to gratify your master's sweet tooth. Leave the damage to him, or he will make dollies for you, too.

Cyrion is capable of sentiment over small children. And can remain unblinded by the prettiest woman.

Under the lamp's glow Hasmun sat in a chair of ebony. On a lacquer table at his elbow lay Cyrion, in miniature, naked, blond, and with two fiery-glinting red-jeweled pins thrust one through the right ankle and the second through the lobe of the left ear.

This is all such delightful fun," said a young voice, not only musical but undeniably masculine. "However, every treat must come to an end.

If she sat on the mountain, the witch's spell-for what else was it?-would invade her again, and she would see his eyes in the sky and in the green stones, and hear his voice, speaking, laughing, but not to her or with her.

Her voice was primitive, and he felt her surprising strength. She would protect him. Touched and set ablaze by her action, he found he was no longer concerned with Leopardo, indeed scarcely credited his existence in a universe that comprised, for this minute, only himself and Iulet.

His voice cut through all like a gold wire, through time, place, dust, heat, and faith. A girl on a balcony averted her head from him superstitiously among the terra-cotta pots of flowers. Romulan blinked at him, entranced. None of them had heard a verse sung better, or a love song more like a knell.

Failed by both the angels and Cornelia, Iuletta had turned at last to God for what she wanted.

The voice, scraping as harsh from the scented darkness as sharp sword from soft scabbard, not surprisingly halted the traveler.

She realized now, fully, how strong the magic of Kernik, Prince of Conjurors, must be. Strong and awesome, to sweep away the memory of a whole night of wonders as a broom sweeps away the trace of birds' feet in the snow. Truly he was a person to be respected and feared, and it would be safe and intelligent to forget entirely his magnificent coming and that sly going that she had not been meant to see. But of course she could not, and acknowledged simultaneously why she could not.

Brooding on murder had turned their brains to milk.