Laini Taylor Quotes - Page 2

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
Laini Taylor
...something was starting to take shape, out of magic and will. Smoke and bone.
Laini Taylor
Again his memory failed to conjure her face. It was like trying to call up a melody while another song played.
Laini Taylor
What was he? Storyteller and secretary and doer of odd jobs, neither Tizerkane nor delegate, just someone along for the dream.
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Bitter, bitter, this desolation of angels.
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To be one of a pair of bodies that knew that melting fusion. To reach and find. To be and reached for and found. To belong to a mutual certainty. To wake up holding hands.
Laini Taylor
His eyes are blue, and blue eyes up close are a celestial phenomenon: nebulae as seen through telescopes, the light of unnamed stars diffused through dusts and elements and endlessness. Layers of light. Blue eyes are starlight.
Laini Taylor
I don’t believe in prayer, but I do believe in magic, and I want to believe in miracles.
Laini Taylor
He didn't believe in magic and demons. He believed in day and night, endurance and fury, cold mud and loneliness and the speed with which blood leaves the body
Laini Taylor
There is the past, and there is the future. The present is never more than the single second dividing one from the other. We live poised on that second as it's hurtling forward—toward what?
Laini Taylor
..and when he let her go, it was as if she had been filled and didn't realize it until he pulled away and the absence rushed back in.
Laini Taylor
As long as you're alive, there's always a chance things will get better.
Laini Taylor
I’m not looking for fate. I’m seventeen. I’m looking for kissing, and to move forward a few paces on the game board. You know, do some Living. (With my lips.)
Laini Taylor
What do you think I live on, rainwater and daydreams?
Laini Taylor
to stay true in the face of evil is a feat of strength
Laini Taylor
I am a link in a chain
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She had inherited a story that was strewn with corpses and clotted with enmity, and was only trying to stay alive in it.
Laini Taylor
Skathis might have been an artist, but he'd been a vile one. Strange the dreamer was an artist, too, and he was the antidote to vile.
Laini Taylor
He believed in magic, like a child, and in ghosts, like a peasant.
Laini Taylor
ignorance and power, they´re a poor combination.
Laini Taylor
If you can kill it, or it can kill you, it's real.
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She may have been the one whose name meant music, but his sounded like it. Saying it made her want to sing it, to lean out a window and call him home. To whisper it in the dark.
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Happiness wasn't a mystical place to be reached or won-some bright terrain beyond the boundary of misery, a paradise waiting for them to find it-but something to carry doggedly through everything.
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I think you're a fairy tale. I think you're magical, and brave, and exquisite. And I hope you'll let me be in your story.
Laini Taylor
What's the point of being old if you can't beleaguer the young with your vast stores of wisdom?And what's the point of being young if you can't ignore all advice?
Laini Taylor
The dream chooses the dreamer, not the other way around....
Laini Taylor
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.
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Your soul sings to mine. My soul is yours, and it always will be, in any world.
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And that's 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.
Laini Taylor
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.
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She moved like a poem and smiled like a sphinx.
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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.
Laini Taylor
It's alright, you know...To love him...Please, child, do you think I don't know you at all? I'm 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. You've always felt the truth in him, then and now. Your heart is not wrong. Your heart is your strength. You don't have to be ashamed.
Laini Taylor
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.
Laini Taylor
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.
Laini Taylor
You really think joy is easier to come by than pain? What have you had more of?
Laini Taylor
Life and peace. Victory and vengeance.And never the twain shall meet.
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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.
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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.
Laini Taylor
What's a horizon?' Lazlo asked, straight-faced. 'Is it like the end of an aisle of books?
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He read while he walked. He read while he ate. The other librarians suspected he somehow read while he slept, or perhaps didn't sleep at all.
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It is bodies that make us real. What is a soul without eyes to look through or hands to hold?
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Is that all souls are for? For when we die?" "No. They're for living, too.
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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.
Laini Taylor
Don't I deserve to finally be free of you?
Laini Taylor
I turned my nightmares into fireflies and caught them in a jar.
Laini Taylor
If you're afraid of your own dreams, you're welcome here in mine.
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It was impossible, of course. But when did that ever stop any dreamer from dreaming.
Laini Taylor
Humans had a genius for devising instruments of death. Their lives were so short and they seemed to value them so little, sending waves of men to clash in battlefields, then weighing victory by the piled corpses. And if they held their own lives so worthless, the lives of everything else were as fruit to pluck from trees.
Laini Taylor
War does that, nothing for it. Reality lays siege. Your framed portrait of life is smashed, and a new one thrust upon you. It's ugly, and you don't even want to look at it let alone hang it on the wall, but you have no choice, once you know. Once you really know.
Laini Taylor
In moments Akiva was up in the ether, scarcely feeling the sting of ice crystals in the thin air. He let his glamour fall away, and his wings were like sheets of fire sweeping the black of the heavens. He moved at speed, onward toward another human city to find another doorway bitter with the devil's magic, and after that another, until all bore the black handprint....Once all the doors were marked, the end would begin. And it would begin with fire.
Laini Taylor
And just so you know, the invaders are always the bad guys. Always.
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Peace is more than the absence of war. Peace is accord. Harmony.
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Why not open the door, and open their arms, and close them again around each other? Did the not understand how, in the strange chemistry of human emotion, his suffering and her, mingled together, could... countervail each other?
Laini Taylor
As for fairy tales, he understood that they were reflections of the people who had spun them, and were flecked with little truths - intrusions of reality into fantasy, like toast crumbs on a wizard's beard.
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On the occasions that he did look up from the page, he would seem as though he were awakening from a dream.
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He wasn't an alchemist, or a hero. He was a librarian, and a dreamer. He was a reader, and the unsung expert on a long-lost city no one cared a thing about.
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It was a different life out here, but make no mistake: Lazlo was every bit the dreamer he had always been, if not more. He might have left his books, but he carried all his stories with him.
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Even if it was just walls and a roof with papers inside, it had bewitched him, and drawn him in, and given him everything he needed to become himself.
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...but one can't be irredeemable who shows reverence for books.
Laini Taylor