Nyah ^⎚-⎚^ > Nyah ^⎚-⎚^'s Quotes

“It meant he was sure to see Linh Cinder again.
Maybe he could learn more about her then.
Maybe he’d make her smile. A real smile.
Maybe …
Maybe he needed another hobby.”
― Marissa Meyer, Stars Above

“The light in his eyes rivaled that of the moon. “I would give it all up for you, if you would only ask.”
― Sue Lynn Tan, Heart of the Sun Warrior

“The dead don’t walk. Except, sometimes, when they do.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Moves the Dead

“How many times in her life has she said yes to a boy or a man just because it was the easiest thing to do? How many times has she let a man take what he wanted, instead of taking something for herself?”
― Liz Moore, The God of the Woods

“I am never sure what to think of Americans. Their brashness can be charming, but just when I decide that I rather like them, I meet one that I wish would go back to America, and then perhaps keep going off the far edge, into the sea.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Moves the Dead

“This, I say. This and this. The way his hair looked in summer sun. His face when he ran. His eyes, solemn as an owl at lessons. This and this and this. So many moments of happiness, crowding forward.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Patroclus." Achilles did not slur my name, as people often did, running it together as if in a hurry to be rid of it. Instead, he rang each syllable: Pa-tro-clus.”
― Madeline Miller, The Song of Achilles

“Kai cleared his throat. Stood straighter. "I assume you are going to the ball?"
"I-I don't know. I mean, no. No, I'm sorry, I'm not going to the ball."
Kai drew back, confused. "Oh well... but... maybe you would change your mind? Because I am, you know."
"The prince."
"Not bragging," he said quickly. "Just a fact.”
― Marissa Meyer, Cinder

“This is one of the few sheer pleasures Louise knows in life: the near-otherworldly feeling of touching another human's body with your own body in a way that, for the first time, transcends mere friendliness. These are the times in her life that Louise has felt most acutely the animal nature of her humanity, and therefore they have been the most comforting. To be a human is complex, and often painful; to be an animal is comfortingly simple and good.”
― Liz Moore, The God of the Woods

“It was wonderful, thought Tracy, having friends like these, who seemed to see the parts of yourself you worked hardest to hide, and bring them into the light and celebrate them with a sort of tender ribbing that uplifted more than it put down.”
― Liz Moore, The God of the Woods

“Listen,” said Delphine. “The best part of being married to George Barlow for a decade was learning that it’s all right not to do everything that’s expected of you all of the time. This is a notion that has been positively liberating for me. The way we were raised—the way our parents raised us, I mean—it trained us to think it’s our job to be absolutely correct in everything that we do. But it isn’t, Bunny. Do you see? We can have our own thoughts, our own inner lives. We can do as we please, if we only learn not to care so much about what people think.”
― Liz Moore, The God of the Woods

“There was a particular brand of humor employed by twelve- and thirteen-year-old girls, especially when they weren’t in the presence of boys: it was at once disgusting and innocent, bawdy and naive. When it wasn’t being used for ill—when no one was its target—this type of humor delighted Louise. From the wall, she watched them quietly, fondly, recalling what it was like to be in this moment of life that was like a breath before speech, a last sweet pause before some great unveiling.”
― Liz Moore, The God of the Woods

“I have been astonished that men could die martyrs
for their religion--
I have shuddered at it,
I shudder no more.
I could be martyred for my religion.
Love is my religion
and I could die for that.
I could die for you.
My Creed is Love and you are its only tenet.”
― John Keats

“Sometimes it's hard to know if someone is insulting or just an American.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Moves the Dead

“Blessed Virgin,” I whispered, even though I couldn’t even hear myself. “Why must you keep sending me innocent monsters?”
― T. Kingfisher, What Feasts at Night

“Though you might consider building a sauna. It won’t hurt, and even if it doesn’t help, at least then you’ll have a sauna.” Which, as medical advice goes, was not the worst I’d ever heard by a long shot.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Feasts at Night

“A poet once wrote that the woods of Gallacia are as deep and dark as God’s sorrow, and while I am usually skeptical of poets, I feel this one may have been onto something.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Feasts at Night

“The silence didn’t feel peaceful. It felt thick. Like the layer of fuzz on your tongue after a hard night of drinking, which you can’t see or touch but you can damn well taste.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Feasts at Night

“It's a place I go to, even if nobody else can see that I've gone. I can smell it and certainly hear it, even if I can't always see it.

That's the problem with all those well-meaning people who try to comfort you by telling you that everything's okay, you're home now, and the war's over, as if you're the idiot who can't read a newspaper and see that an armistice has been declared. It's like telling someone that Greece is over, or England, or Russia. It's nonsensical. Places aren't ever over, except maybe Pompeii.

Still we pretend we believe it, all of us who sometimes fall over into that familiar place. Trying to explain that the war will never be over just makes you sound either mad or self-pitying, and makes your relatives look at you worriedly and pat your hand, and that's far more exhausting. You learn to just smooth over the conversation and get on with things. It doesn't even feel like a lie.

As long as you don't hurt anybody and don't act too obviously strange, most people will let it go. The other ones like you understand. We all realized long ago that we're dual citizens now, that we come from two different places.

Gallacia. And the war.”
― T. Kingfisher, What Feasts at Night

“She wanted to be liked. Perhaps this explained the parties, the crystalline laughter, the well-coiffed hair, the rehearsed smile. She thought that men such as her father could be stern and men could be cold like Virgil, but women needed to be liked or they’d be in trouble. A woman who is not liked is a bitch, and a bitch can hardly do anything: all avenues are closed to her.”
― Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Mexican Gothic

“But she liked this man’s quirks and imperfections, the lack of playboy smarts coupled with a quiet intelligence.”
― Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Mexican Gothic

“It wasn't made for love, the house.'
'Any place is made for love,' she protested.
'Not this place and not us. You look back two, three generations, as far as you can. You won't find love. We are incapable of such a thing.”
― Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Mexican Gothic

“So I’ll be wed in the Church of the Holy Incestuous Mushroom?” she intoned. “I doubt that’s valid.”
― Silvia Moreno-Garcia, Mexican Gothic

“Her hair was pulled into a high ponytail high on her head, with unkempt bangs feathered over her brow and ears. She looked like she hadn't given a passing thought to her hair or clothes that day, maybe ever. She was pretty, but not exceptionally so. Not noticeably so, until you bothered to look.
Kai realized, with some surprise, that he was looking.
Which was how he noticed a splotch of grease on her brow, half covered beneath her bangs.
Another laugh caught in his lungs.
It was so endearing, and such a far cry from the perfectly coiffed and bejeweled girls who he normally met, that it made his fingers itch to reach across the table and rub it away.
He scolded his fingers. He scolded himself. He needed to pull himself together.”
― Marissa Meyer, Stars Above

“A truly magnificent thing about the way the brain was coded, Sam thought, was that it could say “Excuse me” while meaning “Screw you.”
― Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

“Life is very long, she thought, unless it is not.”
― Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

“What is a game?" Marx said. "It's tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. It's the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever.”
― Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

“Sadie, do you see this? This is a persimmon tree! This is my favorite fruit." Marx picked a fat orange persimmon from the tree, and he sat down on the now termite-free wooden deck, and he ate it, juice running down his chin. "Can you believe our luck?" Max said. "We bought a house with a tree that has my actual favorite fruit!"
Sam used to say that Marx was the most fortunate person he had ever met - he was lucky with lovers, in business, in looks, in life. But the longer Sadie knew Marx, the more she thought Sam hadn't truly understood the nature of Marx's good fortune. Marx was fortunate because he saw everything as if it were a fortuitous bounty. It was impossible to know - were persimmons his favorite fruit, or had hey just now become his favorite fruit because there they were, growing in his own backyard? He had certainly never mentioned persimmons before.”
― Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

“What's everyone talking about?"
"The end of The Iliad."
"That's the best part," Marx said.
"Why is it the best part?" Sadie asked.
"Because it's perfect," Marx said. "'Tamer of horses' is an honest profession. The lines mean that one doesn't have to be a god or a king for your life to have meaning.”
― Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow

“When they had been deciding what to call their company all those years ago, Marx had argued for calling it Tomorrow Games, a name Sam and Sadie instantly rejected as "too soft." Marx explained that the name referenced his favorite speech in Shakespeare, and that it wasn't soft at all.
"Do you have any ideas that aren't from Shakespeare?" Sadie said.
To make his case, Marx jumped up on a kitchen chair and recited the "Tomorrow" speech for them, which he knew by heart:


Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.


"That's bleak," Sadie said.
"Why start a game company? Let's go kill ourselves," Sam joked.
"Also," Sadie said, "What does any of that have to do with games?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Marx said.
It was not obvious to Sam or to Sadie.
"What is a game?" Marx said. "It's tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow. It's the possibility of infinite rebirth, infinite redemption. The idea that if you keep playing, you could win. No loss is permanent, because nothing is permanent, ever."
"Nice try, handsome," Sadie said. "Next.”
― Gabrielle Zevin, Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow