… many folk obey ancient laws of hospitality and cannot simply come charging into one’s home to murder guests.”
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People don’t need wild gods any more when they’re fat and rich and comfortable. Gods don’t take kindly to being forgotten.
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The wonder is that you could start life with nothing, end with nothing, and lose so much in between.
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Because love, at its root, is hope. Hope for tomorrow. Hope for what could be. Hope that the someone you’ve entrusted your everything to will cradle and protect it. And hope? That shit is harder to kill than a dragon.
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There were no clicks or eyeballs in the sensible, reasoned middle ground, and all the money in the world in encouraging users to rush to treat the extremes as if they were the center.
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Men were always so afraid of tears, of having a hysterical woman on their hands.
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Because it is dangerous to ignore the existence of the irrational. The more cultivated a person is, the more intelligent, the more repressed, then the more he needs some method of channeling the primitive impulses he’s worked so hard to subdue.
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He’d had enough experience of both kinds of misfortune to know that there was a vast difference between feeling yourself a victim of random strokes of fate and having to accept that your troubles had been brought about by your own folly.
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Irony, it’s good for your blood.
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If you expected the present to be a continuation of the past, you weren't actually looking at the present through clear eyes.
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There is nothing more sacred than the Archives. Even temples can be rebuilt, but books cannot be rewritten.
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Depraved, disturbing, deranged, & delightful.
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Aelin. She was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, and she was Queen of Terrasen.
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Every step. Every curve into darkness. Every moment of despair and rage and pain. It had led him to precisely where he needed to be. Where he wanted to be.
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“The world,” Aelin said, “will be saved and remade by the dreamers, Rolfe.”
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“When you shatter the chains of this world and forge the next, remember that art is as vital as food to a kingdom. Without it, a kingdom is nothing, and will be forgotten by time.”
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“My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered, “and I will not be afraid.”
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No longer would they be locked away in her heart.
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“Once you know this, there is no unknowing it,”
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“Guards are of no use in a library.” Oh, how wrong he was! Libraries were full of ideas—perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.
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