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And they were quiet but their blood and nerves and butterflies were not—they were rampantly alive, rushing and thrumming in a wild and perfect melody, matched note for note.

Laini Taylor

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Laini Taylor
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: December 11
Author
Novelist
Writer
Chico
California
Blood
Rushing
Alive
Butterfly
Perfect
Nerves
Note
Melody
Wild
Notes
Butterflies
Quiet
Matched

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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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Dead souls dream only of death. Small dreams for small men. It is life that expands to fill worlds. Life is your master, or death is
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Mercy, she had discovered, made mad alchemy: a drop of it could dilute a lake of hate.
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A wave of weariness took him. How could life be so unrelentingly ugly?
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Life doesn’t need magic to be magical. (But a little bit sure doesn’t hurt.)
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A thousand things might have stopped me from being here right now, but instead, a thousand things brought me here.
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She had fallen in love with him twice. She loved him now with both loves, so overpowering it was almost unbearable.
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It was brave, countered Issa. It was rare. It was love, and it was beautiful.
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To a new generation of butterflies, hopefully less stupid than last. Maybe they were burgeoning even now in fat little cocoons. Or maybe not.
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He was right. It made no sense at all, but the feeling flooded through Karou, and whatever it was, it was as sweet as a patch of sun on a glossy floor and, like a cat, she just wanted to curl up in it.
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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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We dreamed together of the world remade.
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Thank you, but we respectfully decline your overture, being more enjoyably occupied at present.
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Oh, gross. Your stomach is full of butterfly barf!
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