Quotes from Laini Taylor

Guests aren't trouble[...]they're a blessing. Having no one to cook for, now, that's a sadness.

His gaze was heat across her cheeks, her lips. It was touch. His eyes were hypnotic, his brows black and velvet. He was copper and shadow, honey and menace, the severity of knife-blade cheekbones and a widow's peak like the point of a dagger.

Then there were things-- epic, terrible things-- that he didn't tell her but skirted around, like caressing the edges of a wound, hesitant, testing for pain.

Well, I'm no alchemist," Lazlo said, affable. "You know me, Strange the dreamer, head in the clouds." He paused and added with a grin, "Miracles for breakfast.

It mattered. They mattered, and whatever it was that had made them not kill each other on Bullfinch beach all those years ago… mattered.

And I've found that since you can't electrify yourself like a fence, the next best thing is to have murderer's eyes.

Karou who had, a lifetime past, begun this story on a battlefield, when she knelt beside a dying angel and smiled. You could trace a line from the beach at Bullfinch, through everything that had happened since - lives ended and begun, wars won and lost, love and wishbones and rage and regret and deception and despair and always, somehow, hope - and end up right here, in this cave in the Adelphas Mountains, in this company.

Nunca te arrepientas de tu propia bondad, pequeña. Mantener la sinceridad frente al mal es una muestra de fuerza. -Brimstone

A pause came between them, and it was so full of Akiva that Karou imagined she could smell him.

You see, in the Czech Republic, on December fifth, St. Nicholas goes around bringing candy and small gifts to children, accompanied by an angel and a devil. In a holiday tradition that is the stuff of nightmares, the devil threatens to scoop bad children into his sack and carry them to hell. (And you thought coal in your stocking was harsh?)

El Amor es un Elemento. --- Akiva

But her name was Esmé. She was a girl with long, long, red, red hair. Her mother braided it. The flower shop boy stood behind her and held it in his hand. Her mother cut it off and hung it from a chandelier. She was Queen. Mazishta. Her hair was black and her handmaidens dressed it with pearls and silver pins. Her flesh was golden like the desert. Her flesh was pale like cream. Her eyes were blue. Brown.

You can't atone for taking one life by saving another. What good does that do the dead?" "The dead," she said. "And we have plenty of dead between us, but the way we act, you'd think they were corpses hanging on to our ankles, rather than souls freed to the elements.

The youth are the spoils of war.

Her soul was poisoned soil in which nothing good could grow.

This wasn't a person, Zuzana thought, this was greed wearing skin.

That was what had finally broken through her blindness. Her father had saved his people and destroyed himself. As strong as he looked, inside he was a ruin, or perhaps a funeral pyre, like the Cusp- only instead of melted bones of ijji, he was made up of the skeletons of babies and children, including, as he had always believed, his own child: her. This was his remorse.

That faeries have forgotten the Tapestry; that is the greatest tragedy of all. It's the fabric of all creation and it's woven of dreams, the dreams of the Djinn. Dreams are real, Magpie. They're seed and water and sun. They're everything.

We haven't been introduced' Finding her voice, she replied 'You know who I am, and I know who you are, and-' '-that won't serve'. His voice twined with hers, changing the scrip. And in the lapse after their words, she heard him waiting.

I am stardust gathered fleetingly into form.

Te has preguntado alguna vez si son los monstruos los que provocan la guerra, o si es la guerra la que genera monstruos

How quaint that life seemed now, like something you could fit inside a snow globe.

In one of his darker moments, the irony started him laughing and he couldn't stop, and the sounds that came from him, before finally tapering into sobs, were so far from mirth they might have been the forced inversion of laughter-like a soul pulled inside out to reveal its rawest meats.

What are you waiting for?" he screamed, launching himself at Liraz. With a neat step and parry she sent him face-first into the ground, and with one well-placed kick turned him over, gasping, onto his back. "Kill me!" he coughed out, lying there. "I know you want to!" But she just shook her head and smiled, and Jael wanted to howl, because her smile had...plans in it, and in those plans, he saw, there would be no easy death.