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"She may have been the one whose name meant music, but his sounded like it. Saying it made her want to sing it, to lean out a window and call him home. To whisper it in the dark."
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"Perhaps twenty minutes later he realized she had gone to sleep. He quietly removed his now stiff arm, then turned away. It must have woken her a little After a moment he felt her turn as well and lay a hand, instinctively, like a sleeping wife, across his hips; as if, in some dream, he was the one who escaped."

"I chose him. If I chose him, he had to be the right choice. I wouldn't love him if it weren't right."

"Those shiny eyes like the stars in the sky; but black and brown, And those beautiful lips like the flowers but sugary And those kind smells, lovable but with no purpose All meant to be for me? Someone must have been praying and wishing me the whole world."

"It's a known fact, that in life, you can't have everyhing. In my heart, I knew that I loved them both as much as it is possible to love two people at the same time. Conrad and I were linked, we would always be linked. That wasn't something I could do away with. And I know that now--that love isn't something you can erase--no matter how hard you try."

"When love writes a letter, joy is its ink."

"Don't laugh at the spinsters, dear girls, for often very tender, tragic romances are hidden away in the hearts that beat so quietly under the sober gowns, and many silent sacrifices of youth, health, ambition, love itself, make the faded faces beautiful in God's sight. Even the sad, sour sisters should be kindly dealt with, because they have missed the sweetest part of life, if for no other reason."
Explore more quotes by Laini Taylor

"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."

"My face responds without authorization from my brain, so the resulting smile feels like the biggest, most unguarded, goofiest smile I've ever unleashed in my entire life. I didn't even know my face could do this. It's like there were hidden zippers in my cheeks. Jesus. This must be what feelings are. This is why people write poems! I get it now. I get it, and I want more."

"I feel liquefied, like a cucumber forgotten in the crisper drawer, and I want to hold myself at arm's length and carry me to the trash. Who is this sack of slush masquerading as me? It's intolerable."

"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."

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

"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."

"As to having a preference, that was new too. You take what you're given and you're grateful for it. Once that message is well and truly ingrained in you, it feels like vainglory to imagine one's own likes and dislikes could matter to other people."
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