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Boredom is a terrible affliction of the soulless.
Laini Taylor
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Laini Taylor
Age: 52
Born: 1971
Born: December 11
Author
Novelist
Writer
Chico
California
Soulless
Affliction
Boredom
Terrible
More quotes by Laini Taylor
Mercy, she had discovered, made mad alchemy: a drop of it could dilute a lake of hate.
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The sooner you learn to finish things, and as a matter of course finish your creative endeavors, the better. It took me a long time to learn that.
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...the air seeming to gather around her like held breath. As if this whole place were a story about her.
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That faeries have forgotten the Tapestry that is the greatest tragedy of all. It's the fabric of all creation and it's woven of dreams, the dreams of the Djinn. Dreams are real, Magpie. They're seed and water and sun. They're everything.
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I've always imagined that one day the path of your life would unroll at your feet and carry you away from us. As it should, as it must. But I am glad that day is not today.
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I want to build spires in their minds and dance shadows through like marionettes, chased by whispers and hints of the unspeakable.
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A bruxis. That was the one wish more powerful than a gavriel, and its trade value was singular: The only way to purchase one was with one’s own teeth. All of them, self-extracted.
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The two of them were stoic and stone-faced and ten feet apart, currently not even looking at each other, but Zuzana had the impression of a pair of magnets pretending not to be magnets. Which, you know, only works until it doesn't.
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He actually listened, rather than pretending to listen while waiting a suitable interval before it was his time to talk again.
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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.
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Skip meeting him? The butterflies, the pounding heart, the blushing? The part where you enter each other's magnetic fields for the first time, and it's like invisble lines of energy are drawing you together-
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Everything lined up. It has been easy, as if it were meant- Meant! she said, amazed. She spun to face him, which, in the crush, brought her against his chest as if they were still dancing. She fought backward for space. As if what were meant? You, he said. And me.
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This is the story of the curse and the kiss, the demon and the girl. It's a love story with dancing and death in it, and singing and souls and shadows reeled out on kite strings.
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When it turned out that he could, Karou dropped to her knees to genuflect. Gods of math and physics, she intoned, I accept your gift of this clever fair-haired boy
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She had been innocent once, a little girl playing with feathers on the floor of a devil's lair. She wasn't innocent now, but she didn't know what to do about it. This was her life: magic and shame and secrets and teeth and a deep, nagging hollow at the center of herself where something was most certainly missing.
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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?
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Oh, gross. Your stomach is full of butterfly barf!
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I'm going to be the scariest grandma in the world.
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Kissing can ruin lives. Lips touch sometimes teeth clash. New hunger is born with a throb and caution falls away. A cursed girl with lips still moist from her first kiss might feel suddenly wild like a little monsoon. She might forget her curse just long enough to get careless and let it come true. She might kill everyone she loves.
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What can a soldier do when mercy is treason, and he is alone in it?
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