Quotes by Sarah J. Maas

You said you didn’t care what I thought. Or what I did. Or if I died, if I’m not mistaken.“I lied! And you know I lied, you stupid bastard!

I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.

She realized that Rowan saw each of those thoughts and more as he reached into his tunic and pulled out a dagger. Her dagger. He extended it to her, its long blade gleaming as if hed been secretly polishing and caring for it these months.And when she grasped the dagger, its weight lighter than she remembered, Rowan looked into her eyes, into her very core of her, and said, Fireheart.

And he looked lonely enough that she said, If you like, you could be my friend.

Females and males watched Rhysand throughout the hall—and the shadowsinger and I made a game of betting on who, exactly, would work up the nerve to invite the High Lord home.

He looked at his friend, perhaps for the last time, and said what he had always known, from the moment they’d met, when he’d understood that the prince was his brother in soul. “I love you.

I’m thinking it would be very easy to love you. And easier to call you my friend.

I didn’t think saying good-bye would be so hard. And with everything that’s to come—We’ll face it together. To whatever end.

The Court of Dreams. The people who knew that there was a price, and one worth paying, for that dream.

He opened his mouth, but stopped as he beheld her smile. Though she had no regrets about her choice, she felt something strangely like disappointment when he said, As you wish.

She had a flicker of memory from a time when, just for a moment, shed been free; when the world had been wide open and shed been about to enter it with Sam at her side. It was a freedom that she was still working for, because even though shed tasted it only for a heartbeat, it had been the most exquisite heartbeat shed ever experienced.

A life of open skies and roads, of wandering where the wind takes you, answering to no one and nothing? A life of freedom…” She shook her head. “What more could I ask than to live a life unchecked by cages?

She had not understood what it had been like for him to live his entire life underground, chained and beaten and crippled—until then. Until she heard that noise of undiluted, unyielding joy.Until she echoed it, tipping her head back to the clouds around them.They sailed over a sea of clouds, and Abraxos dipped his claws in them before tilting to race up a wind-carved column of cloud. Higher and higher, until they reached its peak and he flung out his wings in the freezing, thin sky, stopping the world entirely for a heartbeat.And Manon, because no one was watching, because she did not care, flung out her arms as well and savored the freefall, the wind now a song in her ears, in her shriveled heart.

Some people just need a high-five. In the face. With my knives.

The winds shifted, and Abraxos rode them, rising higher into the sky, the darkened kingdom below passing by in a blur.Changing winds—a changing world.Perhaps a changing Thirteen, too. And herself.She didnt know what to make of it,But Manon hoped theyd all survive it.She hoped.

A lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.

I barely registered moving into the long gallery, one hand absentmindedly wrapping around my throat as I looked up at the paintings.So many, so different, yet all arranged to flow together seamlessly... Such different views and snippets and angles of the world. Pastorals, portraits, still lifes . . . each a story and an experience, each a voice shouting or whispering or singing about what that moment, that feeling, had been like, each a cry into the void of time that they had been here, had existed. Some had been painted through eyes like mine, artists who saw in colors and shapes I understood. Some showcased colors I had not considered; these had a bend to the world that told me a different set of eyes had painted them. A portal into the mind of a creature so unlike me, and yet . . . and yet I looked at its work and understood, and felt, and cared.

No. I can survive well enough on my own— if given the proper reading material.

If you can learn to endure pain, you can survive anything. Some people learn to embrace it- to love it. Some endure it through drowning it in sorrow, or by making themselves forget. Others turn it into anger.

You do what you love, what you need.