Quotes from Laini Taylor

Akiva." "Akiva." It pleased her to say it. 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.

Will you take some refreshment?" His lip pulled into a snarl. Unable to contain himself, he added, "One last cup of tea before you burn, you old bitch?

Head held high, she stepped toward the block and sank to her knees, and it was then that Akiva started to scream. His voice soared over the pandemonium - a scream to scour the souls of all gathered, a sound to drive ghosts from their nests.

There was no echo, no reverberation. If anything the room ate sound. It swallowed her voice, her words, and her eternal, inadequate apology. But not her memories. She would never be rid of those.

She told Mik, "You have perfect violin-playing muscles." "And you, with your mighty puppeteer arms. We put the chimaera to shame." She stopped fanning and fell backward onto the bed. It was a bad bed in a cheap motel, and the flop jarred her teeth. "Ow," she said without conviction. "Hey. You're turn isn't even half up." "I know. I just succumbed to ennui." "Just now." "Just exactly now. You saw it happen.

You can be on the same side and have different ideas.

I love you, crossbar,' whispered Karou and petted it.

It's alright, you know...To love him...Please, child, do you think I don't know you at all? I'm not going to say there is some easy future for you, or even any future at all. I only want you not to punish yourself. You've always felt the truth in him, then and now. Your heart is not wrong. Your heart is your strength. You don't have to be ashamed.

Seventh bearer of the cursed name Akiva." Here he paused, speculative. "No Misbegotten ever bore that name to manhood before you. Did you know that? Old Byon the steward, he gave it out of spite. Wanted your mother to beg him not to. Any other woman in the harem would have, but not Festival. 'Scribble whatever you like on your list, old man,' she told him. 'My son will not be tangled in your feeble fates.'

When all else fails: explosions.

They were both fomidable, but they were also the two people he cared most about in the world-Worlds-and he just wanted to carry them safley forward to the future he imagined, in which no one's life was at stake and the hardest decision of any given day might be what to eat for breakfast, or where to make love.

Her mind was still tiptoeing along the boundary of consciousness, in that state of semi-waking that spins threads between dream and real, and for a moment she felt herself to be a girl who has come down off a porch to confront a great darkness with a tiny light.

The terror-the terror, the terror-lingered, and there was something else. It came with the dream, every time, and didn't recede with it but stayed like something a tide had washed in. Something awful-a rank leviathan corpse left to rot on the shore of her mind. It was remorse. But god, that was too bloodless a word for it,. This feeling the dream left her with, it was knives of panic and horror resting bright atop a red and meaty wound-fester of guilt.

Our priestesses have always taught that divinity, by virtue of its great power, must encompass both beauty and terror.

And I suppose all the wishes come true," Minya said, sarcastic. "Of course not, silly girl," Suheyla retorted. She had not grown up in an era of optimism, but that didn't mean they'd lived without dreams. "Wishes don't just come true. They're only the target you paint around what you want. You still have to hit the bull's-eye yourself.

He reached for her hand and caught it—lightly—and held it. It was small, smooth, and very real. Up in the citadel, Sarai gasped. She felt the warmth of his skin on hers. A blaze of connection—or collision , as though they had long been wandering in the same labyrinth and had finally rounded the corner that would bring them face-to-face. It was a feeling of being lost and alone and then suddenly neither.

Her lips were still moving, whispering the same words over and over. "They were all I could carry. They were all I could carry.

Some kinds of misery make you hate the world, but some kinds make you hate yourself, and--butter and cheese not withstanding--Neve had no question that Spear was the latter.

Oye! Puede que mi cuerpo sea pequeño, pero mi espíritu es grande. Por eso llevo zapatos con plataforma. Para estar a la altura de mi alma.

It's my personal theory that only 27 percent of perceived confidence is actual confidence, and the rest is sham. The key is: If you can't tell the difference, there is no difference.

He danced with the sky instead, and the sky dropped him like a rotten plum.

Few will ever witness an act destined to become legend. How does it happen, that the events of a day, or a night — or a life — are translated into story? There is a gap in between, where awe has carved a space that words have yet to fill.

It's not easy having a paradox at the core of one's own being.

The silence, she thought, was remarkable: a perfect, shimmering thing, and fragile. Like glass, if it shattered, it would never come back together again.