Quotes from Laini Taylor

All evening long, real snow would fall from the ceiling to glitter on the lashes of dancing girls and ardent boys, but Neve and the Dreamer didn't linger. They had other things to do: *all* of them. All the things, dreamed and undreamed, in the depth and breadth of the whole spinning world.

yet that one thing—the color of their skin—would, in the real world, change everything. Sarai

Karou's glance flickered to where the corpse had been, which did not go unnoticed by Liraz. "You think I didn't learn?" the angel asked, incredulous. And with that, Karou almost dared to hope. "Did you?" she asked, and her voice was very small. Did you learn? Did you glean Ziri's soul? Dear gods and stardust, did you? Liraz started to tremble. "I don't know," she said, "I don't know." Her voice shattered, and just like that she was crying.

A person could be driven mad by hate. It was a force as destructive as any Mesarthim gift, and harder to end than a god. The gods had been dead for fifteen years, after all, but their hate had lingered, and ruled in their stead.

All the bogeymen together, sitting down to tea.

You're like a kid when her parents come home from a party, checking their pockets for cake." "Ooh, cake. I'll take cake. But not pocket cake, because yuck.

Remember: The spirit grows sluggish when you neglect the passions.

Tomorrow they will start the apocalypse. Tonight, they let themselves look at each other, just for a little while.

She felt, beneath her feet, the shifting of the planks she'd laid across the quicksand of that other life. She'd thought she could escape it? It was there, it had always been there, and this life she'd built on top of it felt about as sturdy as a shantytown on the flank of a volcano.

And… it's like all my life I've been this tower standing at the edge of the ocean for some obscure purpose, and only now, almost eighteen years in, has someone thought to flip the switch that reveals that I'm not a tower at all. I'm a lighthouse.

He watched her with a hopeful, piercing scrutiny that made her tingle, she felt so...seen.

She'd have to get used to him all over again, taking small sips of his beauty as if it was too hot a drink to swallow all at once.

On Monday, there was a new boy at Kizzy's school. "Yum," said Evie weakly. "Be praised, O Lords of boy flesh. We thank thee for they bounty," whispered Cactus. "Amen," said Kizzy, staring.

Ansiaba una presencia a su lado, en todo momento. Unos dedos que rozaran ligeramente su nuca y una voz que se uniera a la suya en la oscuridad. Alguien que la esperara con un paraguas para acompañarla a casa bajo la lluvia, y sonriera abiertamente al verla llegar. Que bailara con ella en el balcón, cumpliera sus promesas y conociera sus secretos, que creara un pequeño universo allí donde se encontrara, solo con abrazos, susurros y confianza.

This was not the frustration one feels at waking from a sweet dream. It was the desolation of having found the place that fits, the one true place, and experiencing the first heady sigh of rightness before being torn away and cast back into random, lonely scatter.

No eres mi tipo. —Bueno, tú no eres el tipo de nadie —respondió Hazael—. No, espera. Lo retiro. Mi espada dice que le gustaría conocerte mejor.

To a new generation of butterflies, hopefully less stupid than last. Maybe they were burgeoning even now in fat little cocoons. Or maybe not.

Humans had a genius for devising instruments of death. Their lives were so short and they seemed to value them so little, sending waves of men to clash in battlefields, then weighing victory by the piled corpses. And if they held their own lives so worthless, the lives of everything else were as fruit to pluck from trees.

There was only one possible answer, as plain as it was disturbing. That she was not, in fact, human.

Vamos a ver. Ya sabes cómo, al final de Romeo y Julieta, Julieta se despierta en la cripta y Romeo ya está muerto? Él pensó que ella estaba muerta por lo que se quitó la vida a su lado?... Bueno, imagina que ella se despierta y él todavía estaba vivo, pero.. Pero él hubiera matado toda su familia. Y quemado su ciudad. Y matado y esclavizado su pueblo".

She is in love. It is bright within her, like a swallowed star.

Her despair may have gone, but it had left its heaviness draped over her, thick and bleak.

He believed in magic, like a child, and in ghosts, like a peasant. His nose was broken by a falling volume of fairy tales his first day on the job, and that, they said, told you everything you needed to know about strange Lazlo Strange: head in the clouds,

By the time the plan's wheels touched down on a desolate stretch of desert runway, the sun had cleared a ridge of mountains and revealed a land the color of dust. The single building that served as a terminal was squat and seemingly of the same dust. The Middle East? Eliza wondered. Tattooine? A sign, handpainted, was illegible in exotic, curling letters. Arabic, at a guess. That probably eliminated Tattooine.