Quotes from Laini Taylor

Pentru ca , dintre toate lucrurile de pe lume, aceasta era dorul ei cel mai mare de orfana : dragostea

The hope at odds with the fear of hoping.

And... a bed. A bed and a blanket to cover them, a blanket that was theirs together.

Strange the dreamer - library stowaway and scholar of fairy tales - had never been thirstier, or more full of wonder.

Is that all souls are for?" Esmé had asked him earlier. "For when we die?" Mihai could have laughed or cried when she'd asked him that. In all its simplicity her question was like cupped hands holding the meaning of his life. "No," he'd said. "They're for living too.

Dorul ei de dragoste o facea sa se simta ca un pisoi care se invartea mereu printre glezne, mieunand Mangaie-ma, mangaie-ma, uita-te la mine, iubeste-ma .

They were match and striker, each to the other. They touched and were set afire.

It (scent) was barely there at all, but in the hint of its existence it was as fragile as night blossoms—not too sweet but just enough, like the dew on a requiem bud in the palest hour of dawn.

Ea nu voia sa fie eliberata in salbaticie. Voia sa fie pastrata si iubita. Sa apartina unui loc si unei familii,irevocabil.

He said, "You don't have to be afraid, Karou. How could it be awful? It's *you.* You can only be beautiful.

But the truth has a way of seeping out. The mind can't erase. It can only conceal, and concealed things are not gone.

If there were such a goddess in a book of olden tales, she would be the villain, tormenting the innocent from her high castle. The people of Weep were innocent—most of them—and she did torment them, but… what choice did she have?

I love books. Not just for what they contain. I love them as objects too, as ever-present reminders of what they contain, and because they are beautiful.

Fertility, sexuality, strength, and the ability to create and nurture life: These were the powers of women ... It was a ripening, yes, but not just for the purpose of bearing children, or being a wife. It represented a claiming of one's self...

Fate laid out your life for you like a dress on a bed, and you could either wear it or go naked.

Here was no storm, no fury. There was some new quiet in her, but it didn't shrink or wilt her. Rather, it seemed to enlarge her. She was no mere weapon as she was trained to be, but a woman in full command of her power, unbowed and unbroken, and that was a dangerous thing.

They marked his first consideration that there might be other ways of living than the one he knew. Better, sweeter ways.

Such were the humble beginnings of the end of the world: the absence of dreams.

It wasn't simply a question of parlors and tea trays - though there was that, too. If she were coming in reality he would be limited by reality. But dreams were a different matter. He was Strange the Dreamer. This was his realm, and there were no limits here.

Her heart was gasping, empty. Whatever resistance had been in her, she gave it up. Her hands knew what they wanted: They wanted Akiva, the spark and heat of him. Even in the warmth of the Moroccan spring, she was cold, as if the only thing with a chance of warming her was him.

There were some piled furs in the corner, but they were gross and old, and Zuzana was pretty sure that a variety of otherworldly vermin were living out rich, multigenerational sagas in them.

Gods of math and physics," she intoned, "I accept your gift of this clever, fair-haired boy.

Esperanza? La esperanza puede ser muy poderosa. Tal vez no haya verdadera magia en el hueso, pero cuando sabes qué es lo que anhelas y lo mantienes como una luz dentro de ti, puedes hacer que las cosas sucedan, casi como magia.

Aah! Eye contact. Look away!