Strange the Dreamer (Strange the Dreamer, #1)

by Laini Taylor

It was impossible, of course. But when did that ever stop any dreamer from dreaming?

Vengeance ought to be spoken through gritted teeth, spittle flying, the cords of one’s soul so entangled in it that you can’t let it go, even if you try. If you feel it—if you really feel it—then you speak it like it’s a still-beating heart clenched in your fist and there’s blood running down your arm, dripping off your elbow, and you can’t let go.

Laini Taylor’s sentences are magical

And that’s how you go on. You lay laughter over the dark parts. The more dark parts, the more you have to laugh. With defiance, with abandon, with hysteria, any way you can.

For what was a person but the sum of all the scraps of their memory and experience: a finite set of components with an infinite array of expressions.

“No,” he said, smiling. “I think you’re a fairy tale. I think you’re magical, and brave, and exquisite. And…” His voice grew bashful. Only in a dream could he be so bold and speak such words. “I hope you’ll let me be in your story.”

Oh my heart...