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My head is pounding. I wish the mints were aspirin.

Holly Black

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Holly Black
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: November 10
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
New Jersey
United States
Mints
Pounding
Aspirin
Mint
Head
Wish

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I'm not very good at explaining things, she said. But I think you have beautiful eyes. I love the gold in them. I love that they're different from my eyes- I see mine all the time and I'm bored with them.
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She loves the serene brutality of the ocean, loves the electric power she felt with each breath of wet, briny air.
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For me the curse is a crutch, but the con is everything.
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She knew what it felt like to tremble like that before touching someone -- desire so acute that it became despair.
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I thought you needed to be tougher. But I've been thinking that protecting somebody by hurting them before someone else gets the chance isn't the kind of protecting that anybody wants.
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Farewell, Father, she said. He fell back upon his chair, choking. She laughed, not with mirth or even mockery, but something that was closer to a sob. You crafted me so sharp, I cut even myself.
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Everything was strange and beautiful and swollen with possibilities.
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Life is like licking Honey from a Thorn
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There’s people who do things and people who never do—who say they will someday, but they just don’t. I want to go on a quest. I’ve always wanted to go on a quest. And now that I have one, I’m not backing down from it. I’m not going home until it’s complete.
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She knew she shouldn't feel that way about a monster, but right then, she wanted nothing more than a monster of her very own.
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It’s just that you go so crazy being alone like that. Sometimes he’d forget my water or food and I’d cry and cry and cry.” She stops talking and looks out the window. “I would try to tell myself stories to pass the time. Fairy tales. Parts of books. But they got used up.
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I’m Lila, and yes, he’s crazy. But you must have noticed that before now. He was crazy back when I knew him, and he’s obviously gotten crazier over time.
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You're a pretty cool customer, huh? says Agent Hunt. I hide my inner pain under my stoic visage. Agent Hunt looks like he would like to put his fist through my stoic visage.
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Allow me to explain how my whole life has prepared me for this moment. I am used to girls screaming, and your screams – will be sweeter than another’s cries of love.
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One fine day, in the middle of the night, two dead boys got up to fight. Back to back they faced each other. They pulled out their swords and shot one another. One deaf cop, on the beat heard the noise, and came and shot the two dead boys.
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I survive at the edge of friends circles.
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We are, largely, who we remember ourselves to be. That's why habits are so hard to break. If we know ourselves to be liars, we expect not to tell the truth. If we think of ourselves as honest, we try harder.
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I consider kissing her right there on the dirty couch, but self-preservation stops me. Once someone hurts you, it’s harder to relax around them, harder to think of them as safe to love. But it doesn’t stop you wanting them. Sometimes I actually think it makes the wanting worse
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There is nothing for her beyond those gates, Gavriel said. Do you think to bring her along like a talisman to remind you of your humanity? Or do you think sharing your damnation will lighten the burden of it?
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I haven't had a very good day. I think I might still be hung over and everyone's dead and my root beer's gone.
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