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Quote by Sarah J. Maas

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A Court of Thorns and Roses

This novel is a blend of fantasy and romance, set in a world where magic is real and love can be dangerous. The story follows a young protagonist who becomes entangled in a complex web of politics, magic, and forbidden love. more

Author

Sarah J. Maas
Sarah J. Maas

Sarah J. Maas is an American author known for her fantasy novels. Her works are celebrated for their rich imagination, complex characters, and gripping plots. Born on March 5, 1986, Maas has developed a passion for writing from a young age and has become a successful author in her own right. more

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“You can't write, yet you learned to hunt, to survive. How?' I paused with my foot on the threshold. 'That's what happens when you're responsible for lives other than your own, isn't it? You do what you have to do.' He was still sitting on the table, still straddling the inner line between the here and now and wherever he'd had to go in his mind to endure the fight with the Bogge. I met his feral and glowing stare. 'You aren't what I expected- for a human,' he said. I didn't reply. And he didn't say good-bye as I walked out.”

ResponsibilitySurvivalSarah J MaasUnexpectedFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Thorns And RosesTamlinIlliteracyDo What You Have To Do
Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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“I'm curious,' he said casually. The amber in his green eyes was glowing. Perhaps not all traces of that beast-warrior were gone. 'Are you ever going to use that knife you stole from my table?' I stiffened. 'How did you know?' Beneath the mask, I could have sworn his brows were raised. 'I was trained to notice those things. But I could smell the fear on you, more than anything.' I grumbled. 'I thought no one noticed.' He gave me a crooked smile, more genuine than all the faked smiles and flattery he'd given me before. 'Regardless of the Treaty, if you were to stand a chance at escaping my kind, you'll need to think more creatively than stealing dinner knives. But with your affinity for eavesdropping, maybe you'll someday learn something valuable.”

FunnyGenuineSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Thorns And RosesTamlinSmilingObservantEavesdropping
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“Only birds and the chittering and rustling of small animals sounded as I entered the still green western forest. I'd never ridden through these woods on my hunts with Lucien. There was no path here, nothing tame about it. Oaks, elms, and beeches intertwined in a thick weave, almost strangling the trickle of sunlight that crept in through the dense canopy. The moss-covered earth swallowed any sound I made. Old- this forest was ancient. And alive, in a way that I couldn't describe but could only feel, deep in the marrow of my bones. Perhaps I was the first human in five hundred years to walk beneath those heavy dark branches, to inhale the freshness of spring leaves masking the damp, thick rot.”

AliveAncientWoodsSarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronTreesForestA Court Of Thorns And RosesLucien
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“I hadn't known what to expect as I entered the ring of white trees- tall and straight as pillars- but it was not the tall, thin veiled figure in dark tattered robes. Its hunched back facing me. I could count the hard knobs of its spine poking through the thin fabric. Spindly, scabby gray arms clawed at the snare with yellowed, cracked fingernails. ... Then slowly, it turned to me, the dark veil draped over its bald head, blowing in a phantom breeze. A face that looked like it had been crafted from dried, weatherworn bone, its skin either forgotten or discarded, a lipless mouth and too-long teeth held by blackened gums, slitted holes for nostrils, and eyes... eyes that were nothing more than swirling pits of milky white- the white of death, the white of sickness, the white of clean-picked corpses. Peeking above the ragged neck of its dark robes was a body of veins and bones, as dried and solid and horrific as the texture of its face. It let go of the snare, and its too-long fingers clicked against each other as it studied me.”

FantasySarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronA Court Of Thorns And RosesMonsterFaeriesMagical CreaturesSkeletonSuriel
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“A breeze announced his arrival- and I turned from the table toward the long hall, to the open glass doors to the garden. I'd forgotten how huge he was in this form- forgotten the curled horns and lupine face, the bearlike body that moved with feline fluidity. His green eyes glowed in the darkness, fixing on me, and as the doors snicked shut behind him, the clicking of claws on marble filled the hall. I stood still- not daring to flinch, to move a muscle. He limped slightly. And in the moonlight, dark, shining stains were left in his wake. He continued toward me, stealing the air from the entire hell. He was so big that the space felt cramped, like a cage. The scrape of claw, a huff of uneven breathing, the dripping of blood. Between one step and the next, he changed forms, and I squeezed my eyes shut at the blinding flash. When at last my eyes adjusted to the returning darkness, he was standing in front of me. Standing, but- not quite there. No sign of the baldric, or his knives. His clothes were in shreds- long, vicious slashes that made me wonder how he wasn't gutted and dead. BUt the muscled skin peered out beneath his shirt was smooth, unharmed.”

Sarah J MaasBeastFeyreFeyre ArcheronBleedingA Court Of Thorns And RosesTamlinLimpingShape Shifter
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“He glanced down at the map on the table, and his voice was void of anything- any emotion, any anger or amusement- as he said, 'What is that?' I snatched up my map. 'I thought I should learn my surroundings.' Drip, drip, drip. I opened my mouth to point out his hand again, but he said, 'You can't write, can you.' I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say. Ignorant, insignificant human. 'No wonder you become so adept at other things.' I supposed he was so far gone in thinking about his encounter with the Bogge that he hadn't realised the compliment he'd given me. If it was a compliment.”

Sarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronEmbarrassedInjuredA Court Of Thorns And RosesTamlinIlliterateIlliteracyObservant
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“Another splatter of blood on the marble. 'Where can we clean up your hand?' He lifted his head to look at me again. Still and silent and weary. Then he said, 'There's a small infirmary.' I wanted to tell myself that it was probably the most useful thing I'd learned all night. But as I followed him there, avoiding the blood he trailed, I thought of what Lucien had told me about his isolation, that burden, thought of what Tamlin had mentioned about how these estates should not have been his, and felt... sorry for him.”

SorryPitySarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronInjuredBleedingA Court Of Thorns And RosesTamlinLucien
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“Tamlin slumped against the edge of the table, gripping his injured hand at the wrist as he watched me sort through the supplies in the cabinets and drawers. When I'd gathered what I'd needed, I tried not to balk at the thought of touching him, but... I didn't let myself give in to my dread as I took his hand, the heat of his skin like an inferno against my cool fingers. I cleaned off his bloody, dirty hand, bracing for the first flash of those claws. But his claws remained retracted, and he kept silent as I bound and wrapped his hand- surprisingly enough, there were no more than a few vicious cuts, none of them requiring stitching. I secured the bandage in place and stepped away, bringing the bowl of bloody water to the deep sink in the back of the room. His eyes were a brand upon me as I finished cleaning, and the room became too small, too hot. He'd killed the Bogge and walked away relatively unscathed. If Tamlin was that powerful, then the High Lords of Prythian must be near-gods. Every mortal instinct in my body bleated in panic at the thought.”

Sarah J MaasFeyreFeyre ArcheronPanicWoundedInjuredA Court Of Thorns And RosesTamlinFirst AidBandaging
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“Thomas Merton wrote, “there is always a temptation to diddle around in the contemplative life, making itsy-bitsy statues.” There is always an enormous temptation in all of life to diddle around making itsy-bitsy friends and meals and journeys for itsy-bitsy years on end. It is so self-conscious, so apparently moral, simply to step aside from the gaps where the creeks and winds pour down, saying, I never merited this grace, quite rightly, and then to sulk along the rest of your days on the edge of rage. I won’t have it. The world is wilder than that in all directions, more dangerous and bitter, more extravagant and bright. We are making hay when we should be making whoopee; we are raising tomatoes when we should be raising Cain, or Lazarus. Go up into the gaps. If you can find them; they shift and vanish too. Stalk the gaps. Squeak into a gap in the soil, turn, and unlock-more than a maple- a universe. This is how you spend this afternoon, and tomorrow morning, and tomorrow afternoon. Spend the afternoon. You can’t take it with you.”

SpiritualityNatureGraceSeeingLandscape
Book:PILGRIM AT TINKER CREEK
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