Stacy > Stacy's Quotes

“A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, a boy from the Barrel who had become something worse.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“Mock me all you like. Whatever I imagined then, now it is I who would beg and grovel for a kind word from your lips." His eyes are black with desire. "By you, I am forever undone.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“No, I won’t help you. No, I won’t hear you explain why I should. It really is a magical word: no. You say whatever bullshit you want and I just say no.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“What they don’t realize is this: Yes, they frighten me, but I have always been scared, since the day I got here. I was raised by the man who murdered my parents, reared in a land of monsters. I live with that fear, let it settle into my bones, and ignore it. If I didn’t pretend not to be scared, I would hide under my owl-down coverlets in Madoc’s estate forever. I would lie there and scream until there was nothing left of me. I refuse to do that. I will not do that.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“Instead of being afraid, I could become something to fear.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“The odd thing about ambition is this: You can acquire it like a fever, but it is not so easy to shed.”
― Holly Black, The Cruel Prince

“I raise a plastic glass. “To family.”
“And Faerieland,” says Taryn, raising hers.
“And pizza,” says Oak.
“And stories,” says Heather.
“And new beginnings,” says Vivi.
Cardan smiles, his gaze on me. “And scheming great schemes.”
To family and Faerieland and pizza and stories and new beginnings and scheming great schemes. I can toast to that.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing

“Stop punishing yourself for being someone with a heart. You cannot protect yourself from suffering. To live is to grieve. You are not protecting yourself by shutting yourself off from the world. You are limiting yourself.”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“Most women suffer thorns for the sake of the flowers, but we who wield power adorn ourselves with flowers to hide the sting of our thorns”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“Nikolai had been told that hope was dangerous, had been warned of it many times. But he’d never believed that. Hope was the wind that came from nowhere to fill your sails and carry you home.”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“Do that thing you do where you use too many words to say something simple and confuse the issue.”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“Zoya of the lost city. Zoya of the garden. Zoya bleeding in the snow. You are strong enough to survive the fall.”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“I don't like that word," Nina said, advancing. "Call me Grisha. Call me zowa. Call me death, if you like.”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“ Remember who you are. Nikolai knew. He was a king who had only begun to make mistakes. He was a solider for whom the war would never be over. He was a bastard left alone in the woods. And he was not afraid to die this day.”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“There had been a time when words had been the only place he could find solace. No book ever lost patience with him or told him to sit still. When his tutors had thrown up their hands in frustration, it was the library that had taught Nikolai military history, strategy, chemistry, astronomy. Each spine had been an open door away whispering, Come in, come in. Here is the land you’ve never seen before. Here is a place to hide when you’re frightened, to play when you’re bored, to rest when the world seems unkind.”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“Fear is a phoenix. Words Liliyana had spoken to her years ago and that Zoya had repeated to others many times. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.”
― Leigh Bardugo, King of Scars

“What are you doing following me around the back streets of London, you little idiot?” Will demanded, giving her arm a light shake.

Cecily’s eyes narrowed. “This morning it was cariad (note: Welsh endearment, like ‘darling’ or ‘love’), now it’s idiot.”

“Oh, you’re using a Glamour rune. There’s one thing to declare, you are not afraid of anything when you live in the country. But this is London.”

“I’m not afraid of London,” Cecily said defiantly.

Will leaned closer, almost hissing in her ear *and said something very complicated in Welsh*

She laughed. “No, it wouldn’t do you any good to tell me to go home. You are my brother, and I want to go with you.”

Will blinked at her words.

You are my brother, and I want to go with you.

It was the sort of thing he was used to hearing Jem say.

Although Cecily was unlike Jem in every other conceivable possible way, she did share one quality with him. Stubbornness. When Cecily said she wanted something, it did not express an idle desire, but an iron determination.

“Do you even care where I’m going?” he said. “What if I were going to hell?”

“I’ve always wanted to see hell,” Cecily said. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Most of us spend our time trying to stay out of it, Cecily. I’m going to an ifrit den, if you must know, to purchase drugs from vile, dissolute criminals. They may clap eyes on you, and decide to sell you.”

“Wouldn’t you stop them?”

“I suppose it would depend on whether they cut me a part of the profit.”

She shook her head. “Jem is your parabatai,” she said. “He is your brother, given to you by the Clave, but I am your sister by blood. Why would you do anything for him, but you only want me to go home?”

“How do you know the drugs are for Jem?” Will said.

“I’m not an idiot, Will.”

“No, more’s the pity. Jem- Jem is like the better part of me. I would not expect you to understand. I owe him. I owe him this.”

“So what am I?” Cecily said.

Will exhaled, too desperate to check himself. “You are my weakness.”

“And Tessa is your heart,” she said, not angrily, but thoughtfully. “I am not fooled. As I told you, I’m not an idiot. And more’s the pity for you, although I suppose we all want things we can’t have.”

“Oh,” said Will, “and what do you want?”

“I want you to come home.” A strand of black hair was stuck to her cheek by the dampness, and Will fought the urge to pull her cloak closer about her, to make her safe as he had when she was a child.

“The Institute is my home,” Will sighed, and leaned his head against the stone wall. “I can’t stand out her arguing with you all evening, Cecily. If you’re determined to follow me into hell, I can’t stop you.”

“Finally,” she said provingly. “You’ve seen sense. I knew you would, you’re related to me.”

Will fought the urge to shake her.

“Are you ready?”

She nodded, and he raised his hand to knock on the door.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Princess

“Brother Zachariah had no reason to support the Lightwoods, but everyone deserved a second chance if they wanted that chance enough.
And one of Robert Lightwood’s ancestors had been a woman called Cecily Herondale.”
― Cassandra Clare, Son of the Dawn

“Will has always been the brighter burning star, the one to catch attention — but Jem is a steady flame, unwavering and honest. He could make you happy.”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“Will’s voice dropped. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jem.”
“Yes,” said Jem. “You just make more of them than most people.”
“I —”
“You hurt everyone,” said Jem. “Everyone whose life you touch.”
“Not you,” Will whispered. “I hurt everyone but you. I never meant to
hurt you.”
Jem put his hands up, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Will —”
“You can’t never forgive me,” Will said in disbelief, hearing the
panic tinging his own voice. “I’d be —”
“Alone?” Jem lowered his hand, but he was smiling now, crookedly. “And
whose fault is that?”
― Cassandra Clare, Clockwork Prince

“I know why you refuse me, Daylighter, and it is not out of some pretended sense of rejection. You are so involved with the Shadowhunters, you think you are one of them. We have seen you with them. Instead of spending your nights in the hunt, as you should, you spend them with Valentine's daughter. You live with a werewolf. You are a disgrace."
"Do you act like this with every job interview?”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Lost Souls

“The ice in Raphael's voice could have laid the whole of New York City under frost for a week in midsummer”
― Cassandra Clare, Son of the Dawn