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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.

Laini Taylor

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Laini Taylor
Age: 53
Born: 1971
Born: December 11
Author
Novelist
Writer
Chico
California
Imagine
Priestess
Asks
Priestesses
Wells
Starlight
Might
Freaky
Well
Chick
Chicks
Dust
Land

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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.
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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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I want to build spires in their minds and dance shadows through like marionettes, chased by whispers and hints of the unspeakable.
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Ziri's soul felt like the high roaming wind of the Adelphas Mountains and the beat of stormhunters' wings, like the beautiful, mournful, eternal song of the wind flutes that had filled their caves with music he could not possibly remember. It felt like home.
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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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No, tiny violent one.
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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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It's all a quilt of fairy tales with a patch here and there of truth.
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Better to be the cat gazing coolly down from a high wall, its expression inscrutable. The cat that shunned petting, that needed no one. Why couldn't she be that cat?
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Life doesn’t need magic to be magical. (But a little bit sure doesn’t hurt.)
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I'm going to be the scariest grandma in the world.
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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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You mean he came to your school? The scandalous rodent-loaf!
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Boredom is a terrible affliction of the soulless.
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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.
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We are the beginning ... We always have been. This time, let it be more than a beginning.
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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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Infinities are not for casual exploration. You could fall and keep falling. You could get lost.
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She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope.
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The truth, she found, felt smooth, like a skipping stone in the palm of your hand.
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