Quote

She was a girl and she was a queen and back in the mists she was a woman who had seized the moon from the sky and drunk its light so that she would never die. And she never had.

Laini Taylor

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Laini Taylor
Age: 52
Born: 1971
Born: December 11
Author
Novelist
Writer
Chico
California
Dies
Mists
Woman
Seized
Girl
Mist
Light
Queen
Back
Queens
Never
Drunk
Would
Sky
Moon

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It seemed she was in a cathedral—if, that is, the earth itself were to dream a cathedral into being over thousands of years of water weeping through stone.
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Because hope comes from in you, and wishes are just magic.
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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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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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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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You were true to her, even if she was not to you. Never repent of your own goodness, child. To stay true in the face of evil is a feat of great strength.” “Strength,” she said with a little laugh. “I gave her strength, and look what she did with it.
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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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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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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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Like attracts like, beauty finds beauty, and freaks look on from the smoking section, aching.
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No, tiny violent one.
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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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You have only to begin, Lir. Mercy breeds mercy as slaughter breeds slaughter. We can’t expect the world to be better than we make it.
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She stabbed him in the armpit, deep, and he dropped his sword. And died. So that's what is feels like, she thought as her boldness gave away to trembling. It feels awful.
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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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When you are young, hone your craft and write shorter pieces instead of novels, because it's really hard to finish a novel.
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The choice I mean is to protect our own innocents from the seraphim, instead of slaughtering theirs. There are no innocent seraphim, said the wolf. That's what they say when they kill our children.
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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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I've always been a reader and a writer.
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She knocked and waited, because when the door was opened from within, it had the potential to lead someplace quite different.
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