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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.

Holly Black

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Holly Black
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: November 10
Journalist
Novelist
Writer
New Jersey
United States
Wasn
Game
Knew
Sure
Games
Lost
Imagined

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And stupid. Brave and Stupid. Ravus smiled, but then his smile sagged. But nothing can stop you from being terrible once you've learned how.
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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 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.
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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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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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It demeans you to cover rotten meat with honey. I know what I am. What would you want with a monster? Everything.
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I'm the best kind of thief, the kind that leaves behind items equal in value to those he's stolen.
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You set me up, I say. One big con. You can't blame me because I turned out not to be gullible enough. You can't blame the mark. That's not how it works. Have some respect for the nature of the game.
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My head is pounding. I wish the mints were aspirin.
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Keep going' she told herself, 'Don't look back.' But she looked anyways.
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I'm afraid that whatever I touch is spoilt by the contact. I'm not scared of being spoiled, Val said.
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It is my belief that books are living things.
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I don't lie, I lied.
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Mutually assured destruction.
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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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A man may daydream of how he would spend a million dollars, but playing the same game with a billion dollars sours the fantasy. There are too many possibilities. The house he once wished for with all his heart is suddenly too small. The travel, too cheap. He wanted to visit an island. Now he contemplates buying one.
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Memory is slippery. It bends to our understanding of the world, twists to accommodate our prejudices. It is unreliable. Witnesses seldom remember the same things. They identify the wrong people. They give us the details of events that never happened. Memory is slippery, but my memories suddenly feel slipperier.
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Poisonous jealousy thrummed through my veins.
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This is never going to be over,” I shout. “Someone will always be after me. There’s always consequences. Well, BRING IT. I am done with being afraid, and I am done with you.
Holly Black
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You want me to say something? Okay. Sometimes I think I am what you made me. And sometimes I don’t know who I am at all. And either way I’m not happy.
Holly Black