Quotes from Laini Taylor

Well. We are all children in the dark, here in Weep.

She was all dark-eyed intensity. Something was lost in her. Karou saw it and mourned. War does that, nothing for it. Reality lays siege. Your framed portrait of life is smashed, and a new one thrust upon you. Its ugly, and you don't even want to look at it , let alone hang it on the wall, but you have no choice.

The scenario made her hyperaware of her powerlessness. If, some day, the door didn't open, she would be alone.

The moon on a bracelet and the sun in a jar... We really wreak havoc on the heavens, don't we?

You have more to live for than you know

Life won't just happen to you, boy. You have to happen to it. Remember: the spirit grows sluggish when you neglect the passions.

Here was the impossible, and it was beautiful, and it was terrible, and it flayed open his chest to show that his heart, numb for so long, was still vital and beating . . . just so it could be ripped out again, after all these years?

I'm a librarian," he said.

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?)

Así de fácil? ¿Les cuento que no soy humana y ustedes responden que ajá lo que sea? - Lo siento, pero creo que has neutralizado nuestra capacidad de sorpresa. Deberías haber empezado por eso y luego decirnos que resucitas a los muertos.

As long as you're alive, there's always a chance things will get better.

Humans have gotten glimpses of things over time," he'd said. "Just enough to make the rest up. It's all a quilt of fairy tales with a patch here and there of truth." "So what's real?" she'd wanted to know. "If you can kill it, or it can kill you, it's real.

It seemed like just another Monday, innocent but for its essential Mondayness, not to mention its Januaryness. It was cold, and it was dark—in the dead of winter the sun didn't rise until eight—but it was also lovely. The falling snow and the early hour conspired to paint Prague ghostly, like a tintype photograph, all silver and haze.

Just then, lit only by the flicker of his wings, the sight of him was so… right, somehow. He was right. It made no sense at all, but the feeling flooded through Karou, and whatever it was, it was as sweet as a patch of sun on a glossy floor and, like a cat, she just wanted to curl up in it.

Your credulity is as vast as this desert. One might get lost in it and never again encounter fact or reason.

Tienes razón. Muy aburrida. Empezaré a coleccionar sellos. Eso es interesante, ¿no? - No. A menos que te los vayas a pegar por el cuerpo y los utilices como ropa.

My life is blood because my world is beasts.

The Muse of Nightmares was dead.

It was the understanding—and burden—that unlike those many dead because of him, he had life, and life wasn't a default state—I am not dead, hence I must be alive—but a medium. For action, for effort. As long as he had life, who deserved it so little, he would use it, wield it, and do whatever he could in its name, even if it was not, was never, enough.

It was only an illusion, but a perfect illusion.

I almost never like people, even in tiny doses. But I never get tired of being with you.

She was young and lovely and surprised and dead.

Everything else in Lazlo's mind took a step back to clear space for this new intelligence.

No nos han presentado. —Tú sabes quién soy yo y yo sé quién eres tú, y... —... Y eso no va a bastar.