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I need your help, says the tiny figure. Her voice is sad and soft and sounds like Lila's, but with an odd accent that might just be how cats sound when they talk.

Holly Black

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Holly Black
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: November 10
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
New Jersey
United States
Help
Soft
Cat
Sound
Sounds
Voice
Tiny
Lila
Helping
Figure
Accent
Might
Figures
Accents
Need
Says
Cats
Needs
Talk
Odd
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More quotes by Holly Black

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It's the flaw that brings out the beauty.
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Crippled things are always more beautiful. It's the flaw that brings out beauty.
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I like all the things that make you monstrous.
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If the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then surely you should be friend to my friend.
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I wonder about death, I who may never know it. It looks much like ecstacy, the way they open their mouths as they drown, the way their fingers dig into your skin. Their eyes are wide and startled and they trash in your hands as though with an excess of passion.
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It makes you a different person, to not have a past. It eats away at who you are, until what’s left is all construct, all artifice.
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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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A girl like that, Grandad said, perfumes herself with ozone and metal filings.
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Can't get away from your own self.
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You better get over here with my car,” Grandad says. “Before I call the cops and tell them you stole it.” “Sorry,” I say contritely. Then the rest of what he said sinks in and I laugh. “Wait, did you just threaten me with calling the police? Because that I’d like to see.
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She took a deep breath, Last chance. Are you in need of rescuing? His expression turned very strange, almost as if she'd struck him, yes, he said finally. -Tana and Gavriel-page 33- chapter 5
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He was saying that the end of the world wasn't an accident it was a joke.
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You have to write a lot. And you have to rewrite what you wrote a lot more.
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Some promises aren’t worth keeping.
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I thought you were her knight, but you have become only her woodsman--taking little girls into the forest to cut out their hearts.
Holly Black
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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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He wondered whether growing up was learning that most stories turned out to be lies.
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To remind me, pain is the best teacher
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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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It's not that I don't know that it's a bad idea. It's that, lately, bad ideas have a particular hold over me.
Holly Black