Sarah J Maas Quotes

I didn’t think saying good-bye would be so hard. And with everything that’s to come—We’ll face it together. To whatever end.

That sounds a lot like, ’ I have more secrets that I’m going to spring on you whenever I feel like stopping your heart dead in your chest.

I'm not ill like that,” she groaned. He sat on her bed, peeling back the blanket. A servant entered, frowning at the mess on the floor, and shouted for help.“Then it what way?”“I,uh...” Her face was so hot she thought it would melt onto the floor. Oh you idiot. “My monthly cycles finally came back!”His face suddenly matched hers and he stepped away, dragging his hand through his short hair. “I-if...Then I'll take my leave,” he stammered, and bowed. Celaena raised an eyebrow, and then, despite herself, smiled as he left the room as quick as his feet could go without running, tripping slightly in the doorway as he staggered into the rooms beyond.

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.

He suddenly felt the urge to kiss her-hard- upon the mouth. But this- what he felt, it could never be real. Because once the ball was over, she would go back to being an assassin, and he would still be a prince. Dorian swallowed hard. For tonight, though...He held her closer. Everyone transformed into mere shadows on the wall.

That was when they noticed that every musician on the stage was wearing mourning black. That was when they shut up. And when the conductor raised his arms, it was not a symphony that filled the cavernous space.It was the Song of Eyllwe.Then Song of Fenharrow. And Melisande. And Terrasen. Each nation that had people in those labour camps.And finally, not for pomp or triumph, but to mourn what they had become, they played the Song of Adarlan. When the final note finished, the conductor turned to the crowd, the musicians standing with him. As one, they looked to the boxes, to all those jewels bought with the blood of a continent. And without a word, without a bow or another gesture, they walked off the stage.The next morning, by royal decree, the theatre was shut down.No one saw those musicians or their conductor again.

Not realizing that I craved his warmth, his nearness, until he was gone.

I want to take my time with you - to learn … every inch of you. And this apartment has very, very thin walls. I don’t want to have an audience” he added as he leaned down again, brushing his mouth over the cut at the base of her throat, “when I make you moan, Aelin.

There are different kinds of darkness,” Rhys said. I kept my eyes shut. “There is the darkness that frightens, the darkness that soothes, the darkness that is restful.” I pictured each. “There is the darkness of lovers, and the darkness of assassins. It becomes what the bearer wishes it to be, needs it to be. It is not wholly bad or good.

I like music," she said slowly, "because when I hear it, I . . . I lose myself within myself, if that makes any sense. I become empty and full all at once, and I can feel the whole earth roiling around me. When I play. I'm not . . . for once, I'm not destroying, I'm creating.

She would fill the world with it, with her light-her gift. She would light up the darkness, so brightly that all who were lost or wounded or broken would find their way to it, a beacon for those who still dwelled in that abyss. It would not take a monster to destroy a monster-but light, light to drive out the darkness.She was not afraid.

In saving Tamlin, I was to damn myself.

He thinks he’ll be remembered as the villain in the story”She snorted.“But I forgot to tell him,” I said too quietly, opening the door, “that the villain is usually the person who locks up the maiden and throws away the key.”“Oh?”I shrugged, “He was the one who let me out.

They had survived, when so many had not. And no one ­else could understand what it was like to bear it, unless they had lost as much.

It was the least she could do. For Nehemia—for. . . a lot of other people. There was nothing left in her, not really. Only ash and an abyss and the unbreakable vow she'd carved into her flesh, to the friend who had seen her for what she truly was.

The straw-coated floor crunched beneath her boots, a cool breeze sweeping in from where the roof had been ripped half off thanks to Sorrel's bull. To keep the wyverns from feeling less caged—and so Abraxos could watch the stars, as he liked to do.

And if I asked for the moon on a string?" - Sorsha

By the Valg, three were made,Of the gate-Stone of the Wyrd:Obsidian the gods forbadeAnd stone they greatly feared.In grief, he hid one in the crownOf her he loved so well,To keep with her where she lay downInside the starry cell.The second one was hiddenIn a mountain made of fire,Where all men are forbiddenDespite their great desires.Where the third liesWill never be toldBy voice or tongueOr sum of gold.

And he looked lonely enough that she said, 'If you like, you could be my friend'.

When your people are lying dead around you, don't come crying to me...

Everyone wants to talk-talk-talk. Can't we eat-eat-eat, and then talk?

Some night soon, I'll sneak back in here and we can eat chocolates until we vomit.""We're such refined, genteel ladies.""Please," Lysandra said, waving a manicured hand, "you and I are nothing but wild beasts wearing human skins. Don't even try to deny it.

You're back," Sam said, as if he couldn't quite believe it.She lifted her chin, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Obviously."He tilted his head slightly to the side. "How was the desert?"There wasn't a scratch on him. Of course, her face had healed too but... "Hot," she said. Sam let out a breathy chuckle.

And he will never know what it is to look up at the night sky and wish.

Where is Aelin. Where is my wife?

... so I leaned down and put my mouth on him.He jerked at the contact with a barked, “Shit,” and I laughed around him, even as I took him deeper into my mouth.His hands were now fisted in the sheets, white-knuckled as I slid my tongue over him, grazing slightly with my teeth. His groan was fire to my blood.

To escape death, she'd become death.

She didn't fear the night, though she found little comfort in its dark hours. It was the time when she slept, the time when she stalked and killed, the time when the stars emerged with glittering beauty and made her feel wonderfully small and insignificant.

Fear could break a line faster than any enemy charge.

Very well.""Say it.""Say what?""Say my name. Say, 'Very well, Dorian.'"She rolled her eyes. "If it pleases Your Magnanimous Holiness, I shall call you by your first name.

One faerie - and then we were free. Just on more swing of my arm. And maybe one more after that - maybe one more swing, up and inward and into my own heart.

Tamlin let out a low snarl of approval, and I bit my bottom lip as he removed his pants, along with his undergarments, revealing the proud, thick length of him. My mouth went dry, and I dragged my gaze up his muscled torso, over the panes of his chest, and then—“Come here,” he growled, so roughly the words were barely discernable.I pushed back the blankets, revealing my already naked body, and he hissed.

I glanced at my mate- the male who had always presented me with a choice not as a gift, but as my own gods-given right.

I waited for the fear to hit; waited for my body to shriek to find a way to get out of this dinner, but ... nothing. Maybe it'd be a mercy to be en

He looked at his friend, perhaps for the last time, and said what he had always known, from the moment they’d met, when he’d understood that the prince was his brother in soul. “I love you.

It had filled my time - given me quiet, steadfast company with those characters, who did not exist and never would, but somehow made me feel less ... alone.

To the stars who listen – and the dreams that are answered.

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.

They’d been forged of the same ore, two sides of the same golden, scarred coin. She’d know it when she spied him atop the execution plataform. She couldn’t explain it. No one could understand that instant bond, that soul-deep assurance and rightness, unless they, too, had experienced it. But she owned no explanations to anyone - not about Aedion.

With each day he felt the barriers melting. He let them melt. Because of her genuine laugh, because he caught her one afternoon sleeping with her face in the middle of a book, because he knew she would win.

There was a faint ringing in her ears that turned into a roar. And beneath it, a sudden wave of numbness, a too-familiar lack of sight or sound or feeling. She didn't know why it happened, because she had been so dead set on hating him, but . . . it would have been nice, she supposed. It would have been nice to have one person who knew the absolute truth about her—and didn't hate her for it.It would have been really, really nice.She walked away without another word. With each step she took back to her room, that flickering light inside of her guttered.And went out.

A pulse of surprise, of wicked delight against my mental shields, at the dark, membranous wings I knew were now poking over my shoulders. Every icy kiss of rain sent jolts of cold through me. Sensitive-so sensitive, these Illyrian wings.Lucien backed up at step. "What did you do to yourself?" I gave him a little smile. "The human girl you knew died Under the Mountain. I have no interest in spending immortality as a High Lord's pet

I was merely observing; I have no agenda." He looked at his hand, still touching hers. "Where did you get that ring?"She contracted her hand into a fist as she pulled it away from him. The amethyst in her ring glowed in the firelight. "It was a gift.""From whom?""That's none of your concern."He shrugged, though she knew betterthan to tell him who'd really given it to her - rather, she knew Chaol wouldn't want Dorian to know. "I'd like to know who's been giving rings to my Champion."The way the collar of his black jacket lay across his neck made her unnable to sit still. She wanted to touch him, to trace the line between his tan skin and the golden lining of the fabric."Billiards?" she asked, rising to her feet. I could use another lesson." Celaena didn't wait for his answer as she strode toward the gaming room. She very much wanted to stand close to him and have her skin warm under his breath. She liked that. Worse than that, she realized, she liked him.

She did not want to be a consolation prize. Be pitied or a distraction.

Whatever shred of hope he'd had for a future with her was gone. She still felt something for him, she'd admitted, but she would never trust him. She would always hate him for what he'd done.But he could do this for her. Even if he never saw her again, even if she abandoned her duties as King's Champion and stayed with the Fae in Wendlyn forever-as long as he knew that she was safe, that no one could hurt her... He'd sell his soul again and again for that.

She shook off his grip. "I am what I am, and I don't particularly care what you think of me.” "Well, I care what you think of me. I care enough that I stayed at this disgusting party for you. And I care enough that I'd attend a thousand more like it so I can spend a few hours with you when you aren't looking at me like I'M not worth the dirt beneath your shoes.

Cauldron save you.Mother hold you.Pass through the gates, and smell that immortal land of milk and honey.Fear no evil.Feel no pain.Go, and enter eternity.

Fireheart, why do you cry?""Because I am lost. And do not know the way

I love you,’ he whispered, and kissed my brow. ‘Thorns and all.

What are you doing?”Celaena lifted another piece of paper. “If His Pirateness can’t be bothered to clean for us, then I don’t see why I can’t have a look.”“He’ll be here any second,” Sam hissed. She picked up a flattened map, examining the dots and markings along the coastline of their continent. Something small and round gleamed beneath the map, and she slipped it into her pocket before Sam could notice.“Oh, hush,” she said, opening the hutch on the wall adjacent to the desk. “With these creaky floors, we’ll hear him a mile off.” The hutch was crammed with rolled scrolls, quills, the odd coin, and some very old, very expensive-looking brandy. She pulled out a bottle, swirling the amber liquid in the sunlight streaming through the tiny porthole window. “Care for a drink?

Please,” I gasped out.He just brushed his lips against my jaw, my neck, my mouth.“Tamlin,” I begged. He palmed my breast, his thumb flicking over my nipple. I cried out, and he buried himself in me with a mighty stroke.For a moment, I was nothing, no one.Then we were fused, two hearts beating as one, and I promised myself it always would be that way as he pulled out a few inches, the muscles of his back flexing beneath my hands, and then slammed back into me. Again and again.I broke and broke against him as he moved, as he murmured my name and told me he loved me. And when that lightning once more filled my veins, my head, when I gasped out his name, his own release found him. I gripped him through each shuddering wave, savoring the weight of him, the feel of his skin, his strength.For a while, only the rasp of our breathing filled the room.I frowned as he withdrew at last—but he didn’t go far. He stretched out on his side, head propped on a fist, and traced idle circles on my stomach, along my breasts.

Amren,” Rhys drawled, “sends her regards. And as for this one … ” I tried not to flinch away from meeting his stare. “She’s mine,” he said quietly, but viciously enough that Devlon and his warriors nearby heard. “And if any of you lay a hand on her, you lose that hand. And then you lose your head.” I tried not to shiver, as Cassian and Mor showed no reaction at all. “And once Feyre is done killing you,” Rhys smirked, “then I’ll grind your bones to dust.