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Hey! My body may be small, but my soul is large. It’s why I wear platforms. So I can reach the top of my soul.

Laini Taylor

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Laini Taylor
Age: 52
Born: 1971
Born: December 11
Author
Novelist
Writer
Chico
California
May
Soul
Platforms
Hey
Wear
Large
Reach
Small
Body

More quotes by Laini Taylor

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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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An idea fell like a seed and over the next weeks it went on growing like a fig vine lush and conquering twining round her old beliefs and covering them in new growth until they were as invisible as a tiger in a thicket and just as deadly.
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We dreamed together of the world remade.
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Oh, gross. Your stomach is full of butterfly barf!
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Anyway, since when are you shy? Just talk to him already!' ' 'And say what? Nice fiddling, handsome man?' 'Absolutely.
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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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Where am I and doing what? You might well ask. Freaky chick, you say? You can't imagine. I am priestess of a sandcastle in a land of dust and starlight.
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What does true even mean when it comes to a face? Only souls are true, and when you spill them to the air they melt away.
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You almost hold up your piece of paper and say, ‘The girl I like just gave me a treasure map to herself.’ But you don’t. You just don’t.
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I shudder to think. I might wear lace collars and laugh flower petals and pearls. People might try to pat me. I see them think it. My height triggers the puppy-kitten reflex- Must touch-and I've found that since you can't electrify yourself like a fence, the next best thing is to have murderer's eyes.
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It was brave, countered Issa. It was rare. It was love, and it was beautiful.
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I'm afraid they're in love, he said, concerned. They don't want to leave you. He lifted one hand from her waist to gently brush a pair from her neck, where their wings fanned against her jaw. Melancholy, he said, I know just how they feel.
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I start to wonder if I’m being creepy. I mean, I am creeping. Does creep-ing automatically make one creep-y? Or are there dispensations for…romance? I bet all stalkers believe they’re being romantic. I did it for love, officer.
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Dialogue is the place that books are most alive and forge the most direct connection with readers. It is also where we as writers discover our characters and allow them to become real.
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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?
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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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Life doesn’t need magic to be magical. (But a little bit sure doesn’t hurt.)
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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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Light coursed through Karou and darkness chased it-burning through her, chilling her, shimmer and shadow, ice and fire, blood and starlight, rushing, roaring, filling her.
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That is your legend? Akiva asked, incredulous. Madrigal had told him the story of the sun and Ellai while they flew. That seraphim are the blood of a rapist sun?
Laini Taylor