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Sarah J. Maas

"Aelin sighed. 'This place has been shut down for months, and yet I swear I can still hear the music floating in the air.'Rowan angled his head, studying the dark with those immortal senses. 'Perhaps the music does live on, in some form.'The thought made her eyes sting."

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"Aelin sighed. 'This place has been shut down for months, and yet I swear I can still hear the music floating in the air.'Rowan angled his head, studying the dark with those immortal senses. 'Perhaps the music does live on, in some form.'The thought made her eyes sting."

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"Memory is a few lines snipped from a larger story that we are privileged to tuck away between the pages of our minds."

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"Only later, much later, too late, did I understand how small she (Mrs Winterson) was to herself. The baby nobody picked up. The uncarried child still inside her."

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"Freud, one of the grand masters of narrative, knew that the past is not fixed in the way that linear time suggests. We can return. We can pick up what we dropped. We can mend what others broke. We can talk with the dead."

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"He lives vividly in her recollections, however, and his memory is etched on her soul."

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"What is it that you contain? The dead, time, light patterns of millenia opening in your gut. What is salted up in the memory of you? Memory past and memory future."

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"Scent is the strongest tie to memory."

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"Some of my anger has faded, but it isn't hard to call back. All I have to do is think about how cold the air was and how loud the laughter was. Look at her. She's a child."

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"People never forget two things, their first love and the money they wasted watching a bad movie."

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"It's not that I can't remember. It's that I prefer not to remember, which means that I prefer not to remember what not remembering did to me the last time I did it."

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Amber Hurdle

"The pleasure of remembering had been taken from me, because there was no longer anyone to remember with. It felt like losing your co-rememberer meant losing the memory itself, as if the things we'd done were less real and important than they had been hours before."

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"Tamlin let out a low snarl of approval, and I bit my bottom lip as he removed his pants, along with his undergarments, revealing the proud, thick length of him. My mouth went dry, and I dragged my gaze up his muscled torso, over the panes of his chest, and then-"Come here, he growled, so roughly the words were barely discernable.I pushed back the blankets, revealing my already naked body, and he hissed."
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"Hide from fate all you like, Baba Yellowlegs said as they turned away. "But it shall soon find you!"
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"As my friend, you should either bring me along, or keep me company.""Friend?" he asked.She blushed. "Well, 'scowling escort' is a better description. Or 'reluctant acquaintance', if you prefer."
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"He moved to sniff some white-and-yellow flowers.A nightmare. This was a nightmare. "You can't really like flowers.Again those dark eyes shifted to her. Blinked once. I most certainly do, he seemed to say."
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"Then, like a shimmering disk too rich and clear to be described, the sun slipped over the horizon and lined everything with gold. It was like seeing the world being born, and we were the sole witnesses."
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"She realized that Rowan saw each of those thoughts and more as he reached into his tunic and pulled out a dagger. Her dagger. He extended it to her, it's long blade gleaming as if he'd been secretly polishing and caring for it these months.And when she grasped the dagger, it's weight lighter than she remembered, Rowan looked into her eyes, into her very core of her, and said, 'Fireheart'."
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"They'd been forged of the same ore, two sides of the same golden, scarred coin. She'd know it when she spied him atop the execution plataform. She couldn't explain it. No one could understand that instant bond, that soul-deep assurance and rightness, unless they, too, had experienced it. But she owned no explanations to anyone - not about Aedion."
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"What's your name?" he asked above the roar of the music.She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song."He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself."I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be."He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two."
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