Quotes About Contrast

It's the flaw that brings out the beauty.

Life is like licking Honey from a Thorn

Faerie might be beautiful, but its beauty is like a golden stag's carcass, crawling with maggots beneath his hide, ready to burst.

I envy what I fear and hate what I envy.

Above me is the same silvery moon that shines down on you. Looking at it makes me recall the glint of your blade pressed against my throat and other romantic moments.

You remind me that I am a mere mortal and you are a prince of Faerie. Well, let me remind you that means you have much to lose and I have nothing.

Crowns of flowers on our heads, shooting bows and arrows at the sky. Eating candied violets and falling asleep with our heads pillowed on logs. We were children. Children can laugh all day and still cry themselves to sleep at night.

With him, I am forever a night-blooming flower, attracted and repelled by the heat of the sun.

Fear is not love, but it can appear much the same.

Would you?" Mom smiles and touches my hair, pushing it back from my forehead. I let her, but I grit my teeth. Her bare fingers brush my skin. I am thankful when none of my amulets crack. "Do you know what the Turkish say about coffee? It should be black as hell, strong as death, and sweet as love. Isn't that beautiful? My grandfather told me that when I was a little girl, and I never forgot it. Unfortunately, I still like my milk.

All of Faerie is beautiful like this, with carnage hidden just beneath.

Some people have stuffed animals," Aaron said with a shrug. "Other people have knives.

They looked absurdly gorgeous, glowing from the television like fallen angels. Even from the beginning, that was a problem. People liked pretty things. People even liked pretty things that wanted to kill and eat them.

He was ruinously beautiful in the way that knives and scalpels can be beautiful

The title was Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking Glass. He frowned at it in confusion. It wasn't what he'd thought a mortal book would be like; he thought they would be dull things, odes to their cars or skyscrapers.

I look at him again, at his soft mouth and his high cheekbones, at the cruel beauty of his face. page 142

He is out in the garden, picking a bouquet of foxgloves. He's laughing, sunlight turning his brown hair gold… I bet he doesn't even know those flowers are poison.

Being in the infirmary when you'd gotten injured being awesome was totally different from being in the Infirmary for doing something dumb.

After spending months living in the orderly dorms of Wallingford, where they give you a Saturday detention if your room doesn't pass semi-regular inspections, I feel the old conflicting sense of familiarity and disgust.

I am used to the whipped-cream-topped drinks Vivi used to bring me, but there is something satisfyingly bracing about drinking coffee this way, hot and bitter.

On my way out, I spot my little brother. He is out in the garden, picking a bouquet of foxgloves. He's laughing, sunlight turning his brown hair gold. When his nurse comes toward him, he darts away from her. I bet he doesn't even know that those flowers are poison.

It's the flaw that brings out beauty.

For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright, Who art as black as hell, as dark as night. —WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, SONNET CXLVII

If Oak is the sunlight filtering through trees in the woods, all shifting gold and shadow, then Tiernan seems like those same woods in winter, the branches barren and cold.