Quotes by Laini Taylor

Creamy and leggy, with long azure hair and the eyes of a silent-movie star, she moved like a poem and smiled like a sphinx.

Is that all souls are for? For when we die? No. Theyre for living, too.

It is bodies that make us real. What is a soul without eyes to look through or hands to hold?

He read while he walked. He read while he ate. The other librarians suspected he somehow read while he slept, or perhaps didnt sleep at all.

Whats a horizon? Lazlo asked, straight-faced. Is it like the end of an aisle of books?

He drifted about with his head full of myths, always at least half lost in some otherland of story. Demons and wingsmiths, seraphim and spirits, he love it all.

It was the hate of the used and tormented, who are the children of the used and tormented, and whose own children will be used and tormented.

Life and peace. Victory and vengeance.And never the twain shall meet.

You really think joy is easier to come by than pain? What have you had more of?

It was sadness, lostness, and the worst thing about it was the way it seemed like a default—like it was there all the time, and all her other expressions were just an array of masks she used to cover it up.

And Esme remembered in a rush--the wolfsong, the haunting, lyrical spirals of it in the dawn quiet and the feeling of euphoria that had attended it. Even in recollection the howling uplifted her like the crescendo at the end of a symphony and made her heartbeat quicken.

Its alright, you know...To love him...Please, child, do you think I dont know you at all? Im 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. Youve always felt the truth in him, then and now. Your heart is not wrong. Your heart is your strength. You dont have to be ashamed.

She moved like a poem and smiled like a sphinx.

For the way loneliness is worse when you return to it after a reprieve—like the soul’s version of putting on a wet bathing suit, clammy and miserable.

You’re a storyteller. Dream up something wild and improbable, she pleaded. Something beautiful and full of monsters.“Beautiful and full of monsters?“All the best stories are.

And thats how you go on. You lay laughter over the dark parts. The more dark parts, the more you have to laugh. With defiance, with abandon, with hysteria, any way you can.

Your soul sings to mine. My soul is yours, and it always will be, in any world.

Get out of doors, Strange. Breathe air, see things. A man should have squint lines from looking at the horizon, not just from reading in dim light.

The dream chooses the dreamer, not the other way around....

Whats the point of being old if you cant beleaguer the young with your vast stores of wisdom?And whats the point of being young if you cant ignore all advice?