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Quote by Sarah J. Maas

“I hated the smell of these books- the decaying rot of the pages, the mocking whisper of the paper, the rough skin of the binding. I looked at the piece of paper, at all those words I didn't know.”

Quote by Sarah J. Maas

Book:A Court of Thorns and Roses
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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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“I suppose the study was more of a library, as I couldn't see any of the walls thanks to the small labyrinths of stacks flanking the main area and a mezzanine dangling above, covered wall to wall in books. But study sounded less intimidating. I meandered through some of the stacks, following a trickle of sunlight to a bank of windows on the far side. I found myself overlooking a rose garden, filled with dozens of hues of crimson and pink and white and yellow. I might have allowed myself a moment to take in the colours, gleaming with dew under the morning sun, had I not glimpsed the painting that stretched along the wall beside the window.”

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“I could help you write to them, if that's why you're in here.' I jerked back in my seat, almost knocking over the chair, and whirled to find Tamlin right behind me, a stack of books in his arms. I pushed back against the heat rising in my cheeks and ears, the panic at the information he might be guessing I'd been trying to send. 'Help? You mean a faerie is passing up the opportunity to mock an ignorant human?' He set the books down on the table, his jaw tight. I couldn't read the titles glinting on the leather spines. 'Why should I mock you for a shortcoming that isn't your fault? Let me help you. I owe you for the hand.' Shortcoming. It was a shortcoming. Yet it was one thing to bandage his hand, to talk to him as if he wasn't a predator build to kill and destroy, but to reveal how little I truly knew, to let him see that part of me that was still a child, unfinished and raw... His face was unreadable. Though there had been no pity in his voice. I straightened. 'I'm fine.' 'You think I've got nothing better to do with my time than come up with elaborate ways to humiliate you?”

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“I got back in time to hear your little spat with Tam, and decided I was safer up here. I'm glad to hear your human heart has warmed to me, though. At least I'm not on the top of your killing list.' I gave him a long look. 'Well,' he went on, shrugging, 'it seems that you managed to get under Tam's fur enough that he sought me out and nearly bit my head off. So I suppose I can thank you for ruining what should have been a peaceful lunch.”

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“He smiled at me still, broadly and without restraint or hesitation. Issac had never smiled at me like that. Issac had never made my breath catch, just a little bit. The feeling was startling enough that I walked out, grasping the crumpled paper in my pocket as if doing so could somehow keep that answering smile from tugging on my lips.”

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“The singing of birds became an orchestra- a symphony of gossip and mirth. I'd never heard so many layers of music, never heard the variations and themes that wove between their arpeggios. And beyond the birdsong, there was an ethereal melody- a woman, melancholy and weary... the willow. Gasping, I opened my eyes. The world had become richer, clearer. The brook was a near-invisible rainbow of water that flowed over stones as invitingly smooth as silk. The trees were clothed in a faint shimmer that radiated from their centres and danced along the edges of their leaves. There was no tangy metallic stench- no, the smell of magic had become like jasmine, like lilac, like roses. I would never be able to paint it, the richness, the feel- Maybe fractions of it, but not the whole thing. Magic- everything was magic, and it broke my heart.”

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“You have been to hell, Ketut?" He smiled. Of course he's been there. What's it like in hell?" Same like in heaven," he said. He saw my confusion and tried to explain. "Universe is a circle, Liss." He said. "To up, to down -- all same, at end." I remembered an old Christian mystic notion: As above, so below. I asked. "Then how can you tell the difference between heaven and hell?" Because of how you go. Heaven, you go up, through seven happy places. Hell, you go down, through seven sad places. This is why it better for you to go up, Liss." He laughed. Same-same," he said. "Same in end, so better to be happy in journey." I said, "So, if heaven is love, then hell is.. " Love, too," he said. Ketut laughed again, "Always so difficult for young people to understand this!”

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Book:Eat, Pray, Love
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“He picked up the small painting of the frozen forest and examined it again. 'I've had many lovers,' he admitted. 'Females of noble birth, warriors, princesses...' Rage hit me, low and deep in the gut at the thought of them- rage at their titles, their undoubtedly good looks, at their closeness to him. 'But they never understood. What it was like, what it is like, for me to care for my people, my lands. What scars are still there, what the bad days feel like.' That wrathful jealousy faded away like morning dew as he smiled at my painting. 'This reminds me of it.' 'Of what?' I breathed. He lowered the painting, looking right at me, right into me. 'That I'm not alone.' I didn't lock my bedroom door that night.”

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