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"It's a tricky art, working with them in their purest form, she mused. "Simultaneously simple yet infinitely complex. It sounded like my relationship with Adrian."
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"Poetry most often communicates emotions, not directly, but by creating imaginatively the grounds for those emotions. It therefore communicates something more than the emotion; only by means of that something more does it communicate the emotion at all."
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"A beautiful poem is nothing but a mirror of philosophy through which we can see life's pure beauty."
"Poets create a beautiful blue sky where you can fly with wings of imagination and find yourself again and again."
"The object of art is to enhance the beauty, imaginations and joy of life."
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Explore more quotes by Richelle Mead
"How do you feel right now?" "I hurt like hell.""You'll feel worse tomorrow.""So?""So, better get a jump on this while you still feel...not as bad.""What kind of logic is that?" I retorted."
"Of course, some might argue that one can never know what's in the heart of a woman- For they are strange and mysterious creatures,and a man must be a mind reader if he ever wishes to make them happy."
"There was a lot of apologizing going on, but I realized that was how it was with people you cared about. You forgave each other and moved on."
"You, you got rid of that dress fast," I pointed out between heavy breaths. "I thought you liked it." "I do like it," he said. His breathing was as heavy as mine. "I love it." And then he took me to the bed."
"ARE YOU CRAZY?" I ASKED. He gave me the same wordless look he always did when I asked that question."
"Whatever happened to the dragon?"I mustered my primmest tone. "He has a name, you know."Adrian pulled back and gave me a curious look. "I didn't know, actually. What'd you decide on?""Hopper." When Adrian laughed, I added, "Best rabbit ever. He'd be proud to know his name is being passed on.""Yes, I'm sure he would. Did you name the Mustang too?""I think you mean the Ivashkinator."He stared at me in wonder. "I told you I loved you, right?"Yes," I assured him. "Many times."
"Roza." His voice had that same wonderful lowness, the same accent . . . itwas all just colder. "You forgot my first lesson: Don't hesitate."
"But I didn't know about the other story.""What other story?"About how you and Adrian Ivashkov are-""No, whatever you heard it's not true.""But it was really romantic""Then it's definitely not true."
"I'm sure it is," she replied. Her expression turned fierce, making her look far different from the scattered teacher I knew. "But listen to me when I say this. You are exceptional, taleneted, and brilliant young woman. Do not ever let anyone make you feel like you're less. Do not ever let anyone make you feel invisible. Do not let anyone-not even a teacher who constantly sends you for coffee-push you around." She put her glasses back on and began randomly lifting up pieces of papers. At last, she found a pen and grinned triumphantly."Now, then. What is your brother's name?"
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