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Once upon a time, a little girl was raised by monsters. But angels burned the doorways to their world, and she was all alone.

Laini Taylor

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Laini Taylor
Age: 52
Born: 1971
Born: December 11
Author
Novelist
Writer
Chico
California
Littles
Burned
Little
Angels
Time
Monsters
World
Angel
Raised
Alone
Upon
Girl
Doorways

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I know it's not easy for you, living this life, but try to remember, always try to remember, you're not the only one with troubles.
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Thank you, but we respectfully decline your overture, being more enjoyably occupied at present.
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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, there were two moons, who were sisters. Nitid was the goddess of tears and life, and the sky was hers. No one worshipped Ellai but secret lovers.
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In all that was to happen, there would be that feeling of inevitability and rightness, and the sense that the universe was conspiring in it. It would be easy.
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A wave of weariness took him. How could life be so unrelentingly ugly?
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It was as if she had emitted a pulse of radiation that reached him even where he stood, and it bathed him and it burned him.
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Like a magpie, I am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales, dead languages, weird folk beliefs, fascinating religions, and more.
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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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Cats and ghosts both partook of the saucers of milk and that was okay. They consumed different parts of it: the cats its substance, the ghosts its essence, and none went to waste.
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The main thing I've learned is that we all have to learn to work with - and appreciate - the brain we've been given, and not waste time wishing things were easier.
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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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I am one of billions. I am stardust gathered fleetingly into form. I will be ungathered. The stardust will go on to be other things someday and I will be free.
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Like attracts like, beauty finds beauty, and freaks look on from the smoking section, aching.
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Love is a luxury. No. Love is an element. An element. Like air to breathe, earth to stand on.
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Zuzana arched an eyebrow. She was a master of the eyebrow arch, and Karou envied her for it. Her own eyebrows did not function independently of each other, which handicapped her expressions of suspicion and disdain.
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Kizzy wanted it all so bad her soul leaned half out of her body hungering after it, and that was what drove the goblins wild, her soul hanging out there like an untucked shirt.
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... and holy hell the chocolate is so intense and pure it should be named an element and given a spot on the periodic table. It would be Ch, which isn't even taken.
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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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I want to touch with my mouth. His mouth, with my mouth. Maybe his neck, too. But first things first: Make him aware I exist. It’s possible that he is already aware, if only in a ‘don't step on the small girl’ kind of way.
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