Laini Taylor Quotes
You almost hold up your piece of paper and say, ‘The girl I like just gave me a treasure map to herself.’ But you don’t. You just don’t.
What are we fighting for? What are we killing for? What do you see when you look into the future?
I miss sunrise even more. The green scent of dawn in the forest? The color blushing back into the world, different every day.
Once upon a time, a little girl was raised by monsters. But angels burned the doorways to their world, and she was all alone.
Then there were things-- epic, terrible things-- that he didn't tell her but skirted around, like caressing the edges of a wound, hesitant, testing for pain.
A bruxis. That was the one wish more powerful than a gavriel, and its trade value was singular: The only way to purchase one was with one’s own teeth. All of them, self-extracted.
With the infinite patience of one who has learned to live broken, he awaited her return.
We only get to be one person; we don't even get to choose that person. By the time we get ahold of ourselves, we are pieces already in play.
"Love is a luxury." "No. Love is an element." An element. Like air to breathe, earth to stand on.
...the air seeming to gather around her like held breath. As if this whole place were a story about her.
She was a girl and she was a queen and back in the mists she was a woman who had seized the moon from the sky and drunk its light so that she would never die. And she never had.
She tried to pray, but she had only ever prayed at night, and it seemed to her that the moons made poor protectors when angels chose to hunt by day.
Take up a weapon and you become an instrument with as pure a purpose as the weapon itself: to find arteries and open them, limbs and sever them; to take what is alive and deliver it unto death.
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
Dead souls dream only of death. Small dreams for small men. It is life that expands to fill worlds. Life is your master, or death is
Once upon a time, there were two moons, who were sisters. Nitid was the goddess of tears and life, and the sky was hers. No one worshipped Ellai but secret lovers.
When a street musician lowered his violin to inquire, 'Hey lovely, what you got there?' she said, 'Musicians who ask questions,' and kept on dragging.
She stabbed him in the armpit, deep, and he dropped his sword. And died. So that's what is feels like, she thought as her boldness gave away to trembling. It feels awful.
The thing is, you throw brains and souls into an animal and stir, you don’t really know what you’re going to get.
I've always imagined that one day the path of your life would unroll at your feet and carry you away from us. As it should, as it must. But I am glad that day is not today.
When I turned to writing fantasy, and writing for young people, it was joyous. It was like discovering an underground lake of ideas that went on forever.
And I've found that since you can't electrify yourself like a fence, the next best thing is to have murderer's eyes.
Infinities are not for casual exploration. You could fall and keep falling. You could get lost.
Kizzy wanted it all so bad her soul leaned half out of her body hungering after it, and that was what drove the goblins wild, her soul hanging out there like an untucked shirt.
I think with world building, it's important to create a sense of culture even if it is just a fantasy, and the best way to do that is to look at a real human culture and see what makes it cohesive.
What does true even mean when it comes to a face? Only souls are true, and when you spill them to the air they melt away.
Cats and ghosts both partook of the saucers of milk and that was okay. They consumed different parts of it: the cats its substance, the ghosts its essence, and none went to waste.
To a new generation of butterflies, hopefully less stupid than last. Maybe they were burgeoning even now in fat little cocoons. Or maybe not.
There are other ways of showing someone you love them, such as fetching them out of Hell.
When it turned out that he could, Karou dropped to her knees to genuflect. "Gods of math and physics," she intoned, "I accept your gift of this clever fair-haired boy
Once upon a time, an angel lay dying in the mist. And a devil knelt over him and smiled.
That is your legend?" Akiva asked, incredulous. Madrigal had told him the story of the sun and Ellai while they flew. "That seraphim are the blood of a rapist sun?
Humanity, perhaps, that quality of benevolence that humans have, without irony, named after themselves.
This is the story of the curse and the kiss, the demon and the girl. It's a love story with dancing and death in it, and singing and souls and shadows reeled out on kite strings.
