Zoë Marriott > Zoë's Quotes

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  • #1
    Carrie Ryan
    “I want to sleep, I want dreams to pull me from this world and make me forget. To stop the memories from swirling around me. To put an end to this ache that consumes me.”
    Carrie Ryan, The Forest of Hands and Teeth

  • #2
    Peter S. Beagle
    “Great heroes need great sorrows and burdens, or half their greatness goes unnoticed. It is all part of the fairy tale.”
    Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn

  • #3
    Zoë Marriott
    “People trust their eyes above all else - but most people see what they wish to see, or what they believe they should see; not what is really there”
    Zoë Marriott, Shadows on the Moon

  • #4
    Zoë Marriott
    “No one knows me. Not anymore”
    Zoë Marriott

  • #5
    Zoë Marriott
    “It's as if people -- normal people -- are made of silver. Shiny to start with, but tarnished by time, by ill-treatment. Luca... Luca is gold. Nothing in the world could ever make him shine less brightly.”
    Zoë Marriott, FrostFire

  • #6
    Zoë Marriott
    “I truly believe that if you have more friends than books, you have too many friends. Or not enough books. Probably both.”
    Zoë Marriott

  • #7
    Zoë Marriott
    “Why does it hurt so much? Why does it have to hurt?”
    Zoë Marriott, FrostFire

  • #8
    Zoë Marriott
    “Your heart is beating so fast,” he said softly, the words barely more than a whisper. “I can feel your blood humming under my hand. Are you frightened of me?”
    Zoë Marriott, FrostFire

  • #9
    Zoë Marriott
    “I thought then that you were the bravest girl I’d ever met, and nothing that’s happened since has changed my mind.”
    Zoë Marriott, FrostFire

  • #10
    Zoë Marriott
    “Trusting anyone can get you killed.”
    Zoë Marriott, FrostFire

  • #11
    Zoë Marriott
    “I know what evil looks like under the surface. No matter how beautiful the exterior, how good the lies, I don’t fool myself, not any more. You carry a terrible burden that no one – not even me – can really understand. But that doesn’t change who you are, Frost. You’re a good person. And I love you.”

    “I wish…” My voice cracked. “I wish I could believe in that.”

    Luca brushed the dishevelled strands of hair away from my face again and looked into my eyes. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll keep saying it until you do.”
    Zoë Marriott

  • #12
    Zoë Marriott
    “I’ve learned a lot about love over these last months. And part of what I’ve learned is that you have to want someone for who they are, not who you want them to be. You have to love a real person, not some dream in your head.”
    Zoë Marriott, FrostFire

  • #13
    Zoë Marriott
    “All humans are made, in essence, of starstuff, and I sometimes wonder if the starstuff still calls out to us.”
    Zoë Marriott

  • #14
    Kahlil Gibran
    “For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun?

    And what is it to cease breathing but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered?

    Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing.

    And when you have reached the mountaintop,then you shall begin to climb.

    And when the earth shal claim your limbs,then shall you truly dance.”
    Khalil Gibran, The Prophet

  • #15
    Frank Herbert
    “I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
    Frank Herbert, Dune

  • #16
    Jorge Luis Borges
    “Let others pride themselves about how many pages they have written; I'd rather boast about the ones I've read.”
    Jorge Luis Borges

  • #17
    Jorge Luis Borges
    “When writers die they become books, which is, after all, not too bad an incarnation."

    [As attributed by Alastair Reid in Neruda and Borges, The New Yorker, June 24, 1996; as well as in The Talk of the Town, The New Yorker, July 7, 1986]”
    Jorge Luis Borges



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