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"Don't I deserve to finally be free of you?"
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Exlpore more Life quotes
"The condition you're in at this moment is the product of your previous thoughts, to change your condition, change your thoughts."
Personal Development
"When this world is full of fashion, be unique by reflecting your own style."
"Every idea travels to somewhere but some ideas travel to everywhere, the great ideas!"
"How magical can a person be when she is blessed with infinite kindness?"
"Life is a journey. If you can't walk, journey with your thoughts and imaginations."
"A party of order or stability, and a party of progress or reform, are both necessary elements of a healthy state of political life."
Explore more quotes by Laini Taylor
"I write because, as wonderful as life is - and it is truly wonderful - it isn't enough. It does not, for example, contain dragons. I find this unsatisfactory. So I read. And I write."
"His shadow splayed out huge before him, and his mind gleamed with ancient wars and winged beings, a mountain of melted demon bones and the city on the far side of it--a city that had vanished in the mists of time."
"War does that, nothing for it. Reality lays siege. Your framed portrait of life is smashed, and a new one thrust upon you. It's ugly, and you don't even want to look at it let alone hang it on the wall, but you have no choice, once you know. Once you really know."
"In one of his darker moments, the irony started him laughing and he couldn't stop, and the sounds that came from him, before finally tapering into sobs, were so far from mirth they might have been the forced inversion of laughter-like a soul pulled inside out to reveal its rawest meats."
"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."
"On the occasions that he did look up from the page, he would seem as though he were awakening from a dream."
"When they had hurried to the train station with their violin cases, they had drawn almost as many stares as they would on any normal day when their hair was to their knees and sheeting behind them like red silk. A poetic fruit-seller had told them once that they looked like dryads, and they did still, only now they looked like dryads who had tired of snagging their hair on brambles and sliced it all off on the edge of a knife."
"Why not open the door, and open their arms, and close them again around each other? Did the not understand how, in the strange chemistry of human emotion, his suffering and her, mingled together, could... countervail each other?"
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