Quote

in her dreams, blood tasted like fizzy strawberry soda. If you drank it too fast, you got brain freeze. When she was older, after she'd licked a cut on her finger, the taste of that became the taste in her dreams: copper and tears.

Holly Black

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Holly Black
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: November 10
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
New Jersey
United States
Taste
Drank
Dreams
Finger
Licked
Blood
Fingers
Strawberry
Brain
Fast
Copper
Dream
Older
Strawberries
Like
Became
Soda
Tears
Tasted
Cutting
Freeze

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After that, she wasn't sure what the game was or if she'd imagined it. All she knew was that she had lost.
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No trouble ever got fixed late at night, he said. Midnight is for regrets.
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To remind me, pain is the best teacher
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Some promises aren’t worth keeping.
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Death’s favorites don’t die.
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It's the flaw that brings out the beauty.
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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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They say that nameless things change constantly—that names fix them in place like pins.
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But the Courts aren't places humans are supposed to be, especially the Unseelie Court. Most faeries won't even go there. We have to go - we have to get Ravus's heart. He's going to die if we don't. what are we going to do? Go down there and ask for it? Pretty much.
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I like all the things that make you monstrous.
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Once, she made a boy come out of his house and kiss her under the streetlight. It was her first kiss. She thinks it was probably his, too. She never told him and she never, ever will.
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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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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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She looks honestly upset, but then, I’ve learned that I can’t read her. The problem with a really excellent liar is that you have to just assume they’re always lying.
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I survive at the edge of friends circles.
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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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I would remain nearer you for what time there is. Gone in one faerie sigh, she quoted. Leather-clad fingers brushed over her short hair, rested on her cheek. I can hold my breath.
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The truth is messy. It's raw and uncomfortable. You can't blame people for preferring lies.
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She wears trouble like a crown. If she ever falls in love, she’ll fall like a comet, burning the sky as she goes.
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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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