It was a bold, wild life for a faerie - most never even left their forests - but she was a bold, wild lass, and so were her daughter and granddaughter after her, and their place in the world was everywhere and nowhere, like gypsies on wing. No home had they but their caravans and campfires, and no family but the one they'd cobbled together of crows, creatures and kindred souls they'd met on their endless journey round and round the world.
Laini TaylorIn a dark layer of Esme's memory there was a kiss. Vividly she recalled Mihai in the snow, naked and fanged. That kiss had conjured ancient passions a god had tried to erase, and Esme remembered the pressure of it and even knew the flavor of that black river. But it belonged to someone else. Tom's kiss, by contrast, wasn't passionate.Esme didn't even have time to close her eyes and tilt her face up to meet it, and it landed crooked and only half on her lips. It was clumsy and it ended quickly. And it was hers.
Laini TaylorMots clés love-story
Like a magpie, I am a scavenger of shiny things: fairy tales, dead languages, weird folk beliefs, fascinating religions, and more.
Laini TaylorIs that all souls are for? For when we die?"
"No. They're for living, too.
Mots clés soul
It's all a quilt of fairy tales with a patch here and there of truth.
Laini TaylorWhen a street musician lowered his violin to inquire, 'Hey lovely, what you got there?' she said, 'Musicians who ask questions,' and kept on dragging.
Laini TaylorHe danced with the sky instead, and the sky dropped him like a rotten plum.
Laini TaylorMots clés death metaphor falling
Rapture cults had packed their suitcases and were massing together in great vigils, waiting for the end.
"All bogus," she'd told Zuzana. "Just a bunch of crackpots waiting for the Apocalypse."
"Because, fun, right?" Zuzana rubbed her hands together in mock glee. "Oh, boy. The Apocalypse!"
"Right? I know. How much does your life have to suck to want the Apocalypse?
I've been looking forward to this for weeks. You don't even know. It's like, gross hunter, gross hunter, gross hunter, puppet show!
Laini TaylorIt was sadness, lostness, and the worst thing about it was the way it seemed like a default—like it was there all the time, and all her other expressions were just an array of masks she used to cover it up.
Laini TaylorMots clés pain love loneliness laini-taylor karou daughter-of-smoke-and-bone
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