Quotes from Laini Taylor

Hope was luster, and they had shone with it like twin pearls in an oyster.

Every mind is a world of its own

I've seen more stars than anyone alive. I've killed more stars than anyone will ever see.

It's easy to make people cry. Grief, humiliation, anger—there are countless avenues to tears. It's easy to make them scream, too. There are so many things to fear.

It is bodies that makes us real. What is a soul without eyes to look through or hand to hold?

Some would assert that Providence was at work shaking out its pockets in Humanity's lap. Other would argue for that mindless choreographer, Chance. Either way it was a simple thing: a lost diary fell into the hands of a soul-sick war hero on a train from Bombay to Jaipur just when he'd grown tired of the scenery and needed something to keep his thoughts from the minefield of his wretched thoughts. In such mild ways is the groundwork laid for first kisses and ruined lives.

She was the goddess of... herself . And he could not look away from her.

She could smell the boy spice beneath the thrift-store aroma of his jacket, and the rubbing and the smell began to work to soften her -- like butter before you add sugar, in the first steps of making something sweet. It was her first experience of how bodies could meld together, how breath could slip naturally into rhythm. It was hypnotic. Heady. And she wanted more.

All of this cuteness, it was one of nature's great bait and switches, because... that wasn't all there was to Zuzana Nováková. Not even a little bit. Deciding to take her on was akin to a fish deciding idly to gobble up that pretty light bobbing in the shadows and then--OH GOD THE TEETH THE HORROR!--meeting the anglerfish on the other side.

The audacity to love. Do you know what a gift that is?

She may have been the one whose name meant music, but his sounded like it. Saying it made her want to sing it, to lean out a window and call him home. To whisper it in the dark.

It was a bold, wild life for a faerie - most never even left their forests - but she was a bold, wild lass, and so were her daughter and granddaughter after her, and their place in the world was everywhere and nowhere, like gypsies on wing. No home had they but their caravans and campfires, and no family but the one they'd cobbled together of crows, creatures and kindred souls they'd met on their endless journey round and round the world.

It was unreal how two souls could look out through the same set of eyes in such drastically different fashion, seeming to reshape them entirely.

This was a game that kill could not win—or, if it did, it would be an unbearable win that destroyed the very meaning of winning.

maybe she was losing her mind. or maybe… maybe she was finding it.

Belief like that, that hasn't tasted any real hope in centuries, but has been fed and tortured on darker things-loneliness, desperation-it doesn't simply subside when faced with its own end. It doesn't accept or adapt, it exists in spite of reason, and will only ever defy it.

Eril-Fane let out a slow breath. "Were you afraid of the dark as a child?" A chill snaked up Lazlo's spine. He thought again of the crypt at the abbey, and the nights locked in with dead monks. "Yes," he said simply. "Even when you knew, rationally, that there was nothing in it that could harm you." "Yes." "Well. We are all children in the dark, here in Weep.

Inside a dream. Within a lost city. In the shadow of an angel. At the brink of calamity.

Rapture cults had packed their suitcases and were massing together in great vigils, waiting for the end. "All bogus," she'd told Zuzana. "Just a bunch of crackpots waiting for the Apocalypse." "Because, fun, right?" Zuzana rubbed her hands together in mock glee. "Oh, boy. The Apocalypse!" "Right? I know. How much does your life have to suck to want the Apocalypse?

It was a rule of secret-keeping, in which she was well-versed: Ask not, lest ye be asked.

Sorry," said Mik. "I think you neutralized our capacity for surprise. You should have started with that, and *then* told us you raise the dead.

There is the past, and there is the future. The present is never more than the single second dividing one from the other.

Saved from war by poor navigation?

My people understood that time is an ocean, not a river. It doesn't flow away and pour itself out, done and gone. It simply is - eternal and entire. Mortals might move through it in one direction, but that's no reflection of its true nature - only of our limitations. Past and future are our own constructs. And as for myths, some are made up, nothing but fantasy. But some myths are true. Some have already been lived. And in the drift of time, eternal and entire, some haven't.