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"I heard a story," Aedion drawled to Rowan, "that you killed an enemy warlord using a table." "Please,"Aelin said. "Who the hell told you that?""Quinn-your uncle's Captain of the Guard. He was an admirer of Prince Rowan's. He knew all the stories."Aelin slid her eyes to Rowan, who smirked, bracing his sparring stick on the floor. "You can't be serious," she said. "What-you squashed him to death like a pressed grape?"
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"So I believe in the redeeming power of stories, I believe that stories are incredibly important, possibly in ways we don't understand, in allowing us to make sense of our lives, in allowing us to escape our lives, in giving us empathy and in creating the world that we live in."
"In the room...they are inside the books. They move sometimes within the pages, like sleepers turning over between two dreams."
"Writers use both their blood and their brains to explore the darkest recesses of their pooling self. Writing allows us to harness the whimsy of the collaborative mind and body, pull our tissue apart like taffy, and expose the composition of our life sustaining organs. Telling our personal story forces us to account for any actions that made us laugh, cry, scream and shout, or hide behind a cloak of mootness. Critical examination of the self allows one to disintegrate the envelope of their present personality and make up a new imaging."
"The Doktor was very vond, I mean fond of Vluffy, so he gave him a flame-proof doggie-jacket. It was dull grey, but it had a tartan pattern on it. Vluffy liked his doggie-jacket and wore it all the time. When things went 'bang' he could just roll over, dust himself off and quickly scamper off with the doggie jacket flapping on his back. So in short, Vluffy was a very happy little dog who spent a lot of his time hiding under furniture. But the point is that he'd had a lot of time. Much more than those who went (up in smoke) before him."
"One could say, in fact, that no story really has a beginning, and that no story really has an end, as all of the world's stories are as jumbled as the items in the arboretum, with their details and secrets all heaped together so that the whole story, from beginning to end, depends on how you look at it."
"People think that stories are shaped by people. In fact, it's the other way around."
Explore more quotes by Sarah J. Maas
"But death was her curse and her gift, and death had been her good friend these long, long years."
"You can't write, yet you learned to hunt, to survive. How?I paused with my foot on the threshold. "That's what happens when you're responsible for lives other than your own, isn't it? You do what you have to do.He was still sitting on the table, still straddling that inner line between the here and now and wherever he'd had to go in his mind to endure the fight with the Bogge. I met his feral and glowing stare."You aren't what I expected-for a human."
"I think Nesta feels everything- sees too much; sees and feels it all. And she burns with it. Keeping that wall up helps from being overwhelmed, from caring too greatly."
"Celaena? Sam asked into the dark. "Should I worry about going to sleep?She blinked, then laughed under her breath. At least Sam took her threats somewhat seriously."
"But the king was frowning. "I expected you a month ago."Aedion actually had the nerve to shrug. "Apologies. The Staghorns were slammed with a final winter storm. I left when I could."Every person in the hall held their breath."
"No. I can survive well enough on my own- if given the proper reading material."
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