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Quote by Leigh Bardugo

“Never let them touch you. Because one touch was enough to reveal it, this gift lurking inside him. It was enough to make him less a boy than a prize.”

Quote by Leigh Bardugo

Book:The Demon in the Wood

Work

The Demon in the Wood

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Author

Leigh Bardugo is a contemporary American author known for her fantasy novels. Born on April 6, 1975, she graduated from Stanford University with a degree in Comparative Literature. Bardugo's works have received critical acclaim for their complex characters, rich imagination, and profound themes. more

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Book:The Demon in the Wood

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“You were meant to be like me. You were meant . . . You’re nothing now.” He dropped his hands. I saw realization strike him. He was truly alone. And he always would be. I saw emptiness enter his eyes, felt the yawning void inside him stretch wider, and infinite wasteland. The calm left him, all that cool certainty. He cried out in his rage.”

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“I'm sorry we don't visit more often. There's a war on and, well, no one likes you." The Darkling touched a hand to his chest. "You wound me." "All in good time," said Zoya.”

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“So how had she bested him? Sheer stubbornness. That pragmatic impulse that had allowed her to survive the orphanage, to endure so many years without using her power. Something more. He'd known the name for it once, a hundred lifetimes ago.”

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“To him, she was always Mama, Madraya.”

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“Other people don’t survive, Princess. They live.”

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“Human life is worth preserving. But human lives? They come and go like so much chaff, never tipping the scales." "What a remarkable calculation," said Nikolai. "And a convenient one for a mass murderer.”

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“She had been Zoya’s teacher, feared and beloved, powerful beyond measure. “I watched her throw herself from a mountaintop. She sacrificed herself to stop you. Was that her martyrdom?” The Darkling said nothing. Zoya couldn’t stop herself. “Grigori was eaten by a bear. Elizaveta was drawn and quartered. Still, they returned. There are stories whispered in the Elbjen mountains of the Dark Mother. She crowds in when the nights grow long. She steals the heat from kitchen fires.” “Liar.” “Maybe. We all have stories to tell.”

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