Quotes by Laini Taylor

What was he? Storyteller and secretary and doer of odd jobs, neither Tizerkane nor delegate, just someone along for the dream.

Again his memory failed to conjure her face. It was like trying to call up a melody while another song played.

...something was starting to take shape, out of magic and will. Smoke and bone.

The door opened. She looked in the mirror and suppressed a curse. Slipping in behind some tourists, that winged shadow was back again. Karou rose and made for the bathroom, where she took the note that Kishmish had come to de

His shadow splayed out huge before him, and his mind gleamed with ancient wars and winged beings, a mountain of melted demon bones and the city on the far side of it--a city that had vanished in the mists of time.

Life doesn’t need magic to be magical.(But a little bit sure doesnt hurt.)

Karou wished she could be the kind of girl who was complete unto herself, comfortable in solitude, serene. But she wasnt. She was lonely, and she feared the missingness within her as if it might expand and... cancel her. She craved a presence beside her, solid. Fingertips light at the nape of her neck and a voice meeting hers in the dark. Someone who would wait with an umbrella to walk her home in the rain, and smile like sunshine when he saw her coming. Who would dance with her on her balcony, keep his promises and know her secrets, and make a tiny world wherever he was, with just her and his arms and his whisper and her trust.

Home. the word always had air quotes around it in her mind. Shed done what she could to make her flat cozy, filling it with art, books, ornate lanterns, and a Persian carpet as soft as lynx fur. And of course there were her angel wings taking up one whole wall. But there was no help for the real emptiness; its close air was stirred by no breath but her own. When she was alone, the empty place within her, the missingness, as she thought of it, seemed to swell. Even being with Kaz had done something to keep it at bay, though not enough. Never enough.

What a lovely display of personhood. Hes like a good book cover that grabs your gaze. Read me. Im fun but smart. You wont be able to put me down.

Around Mik, my powers desert me. I lose basic motor function, like my brain focuses all neural activity on my lips and shifts into kiss preparedness mode way too early, to the detriment of things like speech, and walking.

That widow’s peak is preposterous. God. It really makes you feel the sad dearth of widow’s peaks in daily life. We could, like, use him as breeding stock to seed widow’s peaks into the populace.”“My god. What’s with all the mating and seed talk?”“I’m just saying,” Zuzana said reasonably. “I’m crazy about Mik, okay, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do my part for the proliferation of widow’s peaks. As a favor to the gene pool. You would, too, right? Or maybe…” She shot Karou a sidelong glance. “You already have?

Let me tell you something about me. I love vengeance like normal people love sunsets and long walks on the beach. I eat vengeance with a spoon like its honey. In fact, I may not even be a real person, but just a vow of vengeance made flesh.

As to having a preference, that was new too. You take what youre given and youre grateful for it. Once that message is well and truly ingrained in you, it feels like vainglory to imagine ones own likes and dislikes could matter to other people.

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

I cant imagine you give apologies, Ten had said before, and shed been right, but Liraz thought that she would now, She would apologize for Savvath. If her voice was her own. If it wasnt reeling out of her, rising and falling in a sound that might have been laughter and might-if she werent Liraz and it werent unthinkable-have been sobbing.In truth, it was both. She was going to lose her arms, the clean way or the less clean, and heres where the laughter came in: It was horrific, and it was sadistic, and it was also, literally, a dream come true.

Life is you master, or death is.

The function of hate, as Sarai saw it, was to stamp out compassion—to close a door in ones own self and forget it was ever there. If you had hate, then you could see suffering—and cause it—and feel nothing except perhaps a sordid vindication.

If only it were that easy to let go of hate. Just relax your face.

You think good people cant hate? she asked. You think good people dont kill?[...}Good people do all the things bad people do, Lazlo. Its just that when they do them, they call it justice.

Some kinds of misery make you hate the world, but some kinds make you hate yourself, and--butter and cheese not withstanding--Neve had no question that Spear was the latter.