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"Life is you master, or death is."
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"Let each person decide his or her fate."

"There is no such thing as reincarnation, but only similar incarnation."

"Mind and Soul are one and the same thing."

"Beauty, love with truth, that is all there is."

"Science without Philosophy leads to chaos. Philosophy without Science leads to nowhere. Only together they can construct a better world."

"...an age-old patter that seemed like chaos but was not..."

"It is always, first Self, then everything else."

"The Judgement is not a question, it's a sure answer, as to a clump of dough, that will yeast and rise, or go in the oven and burn to crust."

"Can any man sacrifice is life for his fellow man?"

"I guess it's better to have a chalk smile, than an ink smile. Where chalk changes with the direction of wind, ink stays as a deep stain. Like rain, sun and hail against a fake plant."
Explore more quotes by Laini Taylor

"He didn't believe in magic and demons. He believed in day and night, endurance and fury, cold mud and loneliness and the speed with which blood leaves the body."

"There was a man who loved the moon, but whenever he tried to embrace her, she broke into a thousand pieces and left him drenched, with empty arms."

"Be an unstoppable force. Write with an imaginary machete strapped to your thigh. This is not wishy-washy, polite, drinking-tea-with-your-pinkie-sticking-out stuff. It's who you want to be, your most powerful self. Write your books. Finish them, then make them better. Find the way. No one will make this dream come true for you but you."

"The function of hate, as Sarai saw it, was to stamp out compassion-to close a door in one's own self and forget it was ever there. If you had hate, then you could see suffering-and cause it-and feel nothing except perhaps a sordid vindication."

"Beautiful men and women with distorted shadows came and scorched their handprints onto doors before vanishing skyward, drafts of heat billowing behind them with the whumph of unseen wings. Here and there, feathers fell, and they were like tufts of white fire, disintegrating to ash as soon as they touched the ground."

"He drifted about with his head full of myths, always at least half lost in some otherland of story. Demons and wingsmiths, seraphim and spirits, he love it all."

"What was he? Storyteller and secretary and doer of odd jobs, neither Tizerkane nor delegate, just someone along for the dream."
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