Strange the Dreamer (Strange the Dreamer, #1)

by Laini Taylor

Invisible, incorporeal, insubstantial as a murmur, Sarai slipped into their dreams, and what she discovered there, in the hours that followed, proved that the strangers were far from ridiculous. And would indeed be the death of her.

Laini Taylor’s prose can have my first born child

“Strange, you’re blushing.” “Of course I am,” he admitted. “I’m a perfect innocent. I’d blush at the sight of a woman’s collarbones.”

I stayed rearranging my “favorite fictional characters of all time” list

“What’s the point of being old if you can’t mortify the young?

A blaze of connection—or collision, as though they had long been wandering in the same labyrinth and had finally rounded the corner that would bring them face-to-face.

THIS. PROSE. I can’t. No books will do justice.

“I only mean,” he rushed to explain, “if you’re afraid of your own dreams, you’re welcome here in mine.”

Strange was just Strange, and he’d offered up his spirit with no strings attached. Thyon was grateful, even if he was resentful in equal—or greater—measure.

and it’s like… it’s like… finding a book inside another book.

The dumbest and most lovable character of all time