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But he is pretty. God, I hope he's not an asshole. Do you think there's any chance he's both non-orifice and single? I mean, seriously. What are the chances?

Laini Taylor

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Laini Taylor
Age: 52
Born: 1971
Born: December 11
Author
Novelist
Writer
Chico
California
Mean
Orifice
Think
Asshole
Thinking
Chances
Seriously
Single
Pretty
Chance
Hope

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It didn't escape Karou's notice that he found subtle ways of touching her.
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The goblins want girls who dream so hard about being pretty their yearning leaves a palpable trail, a scent goblins can follow like sharks on a soft bloom of blood. The girls with hungry eyes who pray each night to wake up as someone else. Urgent, unkissed, wishful girls. Like Kizzy.
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I will do just as you wish,' said no cat ever.
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It was interesting the way a small hate could grow inside a big hate and take it over.
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Once upon a time, a girl lived in a sandcastle, making monsters to send through a hole in the sky.
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If it's not chocolate, it's not breakfast.
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Just then, lit only by the flicker of his wings,the sight of him was so..right somehow. He was right. It made no sense at all, but the feeling flooded through Karou
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I was going to say the beginning is the good part, when it's all sparks and sparkles, before they are inevitably unmasked as assholes.
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He wanted to tell her that everything he had done he had done because he was broken, because watching her die had destroyed him, but there was no way to say it that didn’t sound like he was trying to pin the blame outside himself
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I miss sunrise even more. The green scent of dawn in the forest? The color blushing back into the world, different every day.
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There’s a long pause. But it’s not a bad pause, because Mik is looking at me like I’m the treasure from the high shelf that someone’s just taken down and put into his hands. I find I don’t mind being looked at like this. I don’t mind it at all.
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Thank you to the world for being a wild and inspiring place, full of odd creatures, strange people, and mysterious cities. I hope by and by to know you better.
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Madrigal sniffed herself. I'm almost sure I don't smell. Maybe not, but between shining cleanliness and not smelling, there is a vast gray area.
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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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Was there any fate more bitter than to get what you long for most, when it's too late?
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