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Holly Black Quotes

“I remember how angry she was when Taryn and I gave in to Faerie and started having fun. Crowns of flowers on our heads, shooting bows and arrows at the sky. Eating candied violets and falling asleep with our heads pillowed on logs. We were children. Children can laugh all day and still cry themselves to sleep at night. But to hold a blade in my hand, a blade like the one that killed my parents, and think it was a toy, she'd have to believe I was heartless.”

ChildrenCryHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteJudeFaerieThe Cruel PrinceTaryn DuarteVivi Duarte
Book:The Cruel Prince
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“I lean toward him, expecting him to unconsciously move away. To be repulsed. But he only watches me curiously. As I draw closer, his eyes widen a little. 'Wren,' he whispers. I am not sure if it's a warning or not. I hate that I don't know. At every moment, I expect him to flinch or pull back as I put one hand on his shoulder, then go up on my toes, and kiss him. This is ridiculous. Kissing him is profane. It gives me all the horrible satisfaction of smashing a crystal goblet. It's quick. Just the quick press of my dry mouth against his lips. A brief senses of softness, the warmth of breath, and then I pull away, my heart thrumming with fear, with the expectation that he will be disgusted. With the certainty that I have well and truly punished him for trying to flirt with me. The angry, feral part of me feels so close to the surface that I can almost scent its blood-clotted fur. I want to lick the scratches I made. He doesn't look alarmed, though. He's studying my face, as though he's trying to work something out. After a moment, his eyes close, pale lashes against his cheek, and he dips foward to press his mouth to mine again. He goes slower, one of his hands cupping my head. A shivery feeling courses down my spine, a flush coming up on my skin. When he draws back, he is not wearing his usual complicated smile. Instead, he looks as though someone just slapped him. I wonder if a kiss from me is like being clawed on the cheek. Did he force himself to go through with it? For the sake of keeping me on this quest? For the sake of his father and his plans? I thought to punish him, but all I have succeeded in doing is punishing myself.”

KissingKissHolly BlackThe Stolen HeirFirst KissSurenWrenOakOak GreenbriarPunish
Book:The Stolen Heir
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“It's okay to want something that's going to hurt, I remind myself. I move toward him, so we are close enough to touch. He takes my hand in his, fingers lacing together, and bends towards me. There is plenty of time for me to pull away from the kiss, but I don't. I want him to kiss me. My weariness evaporates as his lips press against mine. Over and over, one kiss sliding in to the next. 'You looked like a knight in a story tonight,' he says softly against my neck. 'Possibly a filthy story.' I kick him in the leg, and he kisses me again, harder. We stagger against the wall, and I pull his body to mine. My fingers glide up under his shirt, tracing up his spine to the wings of his shoulder blades. His tail lashes back and forth, the furred end stroking over the back of my calf.”

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Book:The Queen of Nothing
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“Oak puts his hands on my shoulders, pushing my back to the wall. 'Pretend with me,' he whispers. And then he presses his mouth to mine. A soldier kissing one of the serving girls. A bored ex-falcon attempting to amuse himself. Oak hiding our faces, giving us a reason to be overlooked. I understand the game. This is no declaration of desire. And yet, I am rooted in place by the shocking heat of his mouth, the softness of his lips, the way one of his hands goes to the ice wall to brace himself and the other to my waist, and then to the hilt of my knife as they draw closer. He doesn't want me. This doesn't mean he wants me. I repeat that over and over as I let him part my lips with his tongue. I run my hands up his back under his shirt, letting my nails trail over his skin. I have been trained in all the arts of a courtier. Dancing and duelling, kissing and deceiving. Still, I am gratified when he shudders, when the hand he was bracing with lifts to thread through my hair, to cup my head. My mouth slides over his jaw to his throat, then against his shoulder, where I press the points of my teeth. His body stiffens, his fingers gripping me harder, pulling me closer to him. When I bite down, he gasps.”

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Book:The Stolen Heir
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“Cardan is lying on a blanket, his head tipped back and his loose white shirt unbuttoned. Although it is still early in the night, he appears to be very drunk. HIs mouth is flaked with gold. A horned girl I don't know is kissing his throat, and another, this one with daffodil hair, presses her mouth against the calf of his leg, just above the top of his boot. ... Cardan's gaze goes to me. His eyes are barely open, but I can see the shine of them, wet as tar. He watches me as the girl kisses his mouth, watches me as she slides her hand beneath the hem of his silly, ruffly shirt.”

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Book:The Cruel Prince
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“Dear lady,' says a faerie, coming toward us from a shop that sells jewels. He has the eyes of a snake and forked tongue that darts out when he speaks. 'This hairpin looks as though it were made for you.' It's beautiful, woven gold and silver in the shape of a bird, a single green bead in its mouth. Had it been in a display, my eyes would have passed over it as one of a dozen unobtainable things. But as he holds it out, I can't help imaging it as as mine. 'I have no money and little to trade,' I tell him regretfully, shaking my head. The shopkeeper's gaze goes to Oak. I think he believes the prince is my lover. Oak plays the part, reaching out his hand for the pin. 'How much is it? And will you take silver, or must it be the last wish of my heart?' 'Silver is excellent.' The shopkeeper smiles as Oak fishes through his bag for some coins. Part of me wants to demur, but I let him buy it, and then I let him use it to pin back my hair. His fingers on my neck are warm. It's only when he lets go that I shiver. He gives me a steady look. 'I hope you're not about to tell me that you hate it and you were just being polite.' 'I don't hate it,' I say softly. 'And I am not polite.' He laughs at that. A delightful quality. I admire the hairpin in every reflective surface we pass.”

SweetGiftHolly BlackThe Stolen HeirSurenWrenOakOak GreenbriarHairpinNot Polite
Book:The Stolen Heir
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“An ombre ball gown, its colour deepening from white near my throat, through palest blue to deepest indigo at my feet. Over that is stitched the stark outlines of trees, the way I see them from my window as dusk is falling. The seamstress has even sewn on little crystal beads to represent stars. This is a dress I could never have imagined, one so perfect that for a moment, looking at it, I can think of nothing but its beauty.”

GiftHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteCardan GreenbriarJudeThe Cruel PrinceDressGownEmbroidered
Book:The Cruel Prince
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“Playing hide-and-seek under the table? Crouching in the dirt? Typical of your kind, but far beneath my dignity.' He laughs unsteadily, like he expects I am going to laugh, too. I don't. I ball up my fist and punch him in the stomach, right where I know it will hurt. He staggers to his knees. The goblet drops to the dirt, making a hollow clanking sound. 'Ow"' he shouts, and lets me tug him under the table. 'We'll get out of here without anyone noticing,' I tell him. 'We stay under the tables and make our way to the steps to the upper levels of the place. And don't tell me it's beneath your dignity to crawl. You're so drunk you can barely stand anyway.' I hear him snort. 'If you insist,' he says.”

DignityHidingHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteCardan GreenbriarJudeCardanThe Cruel PrinceCrawl
Book:The Cruel Prince
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“Look into this one,' the Bomb says with a strange expression. It's Cardan as a very small child. He is dressed in a shirt that's too large for him. It hangs down like a gown. He is barefoot, his feet and shirt streaked with mud, but he wears dangling hoops in his ears, as though an adult gave him their earrings. A horned faerie woman stands nearby, and when he runs to her, she grabs his wrists before he can put his dirty hands on her skirts. She says something stern and shoves him away. When he falls, she barely notices, too busy being drawn in to conversation with other courtiers. I expect Cardan to cry, but he doesn't. Instead, he stomps off to a tree that an older boy is climbing. The boy says something, and Cardan grabs for his ankle. A moment later, the boy is on the ground, and Cardan's small grubby hand is forming a fist. At the sound of the scuffle, the faerie woman turns and laughs, clearly delighted by his escapade. When Cardan looks back at her, he's smiling, too. I shove the crystal ball back in to the drawer. Who would cherish this? It's horrible.”

SadNeglectHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteCardan GreenbriarCardanHeartbreakingThe Wicked KingLady Asha
Book:The Wicked King
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“I glance back and see that he has stopped moving. He's sitting on the ground, looking at his hand. Looking at his ring. 'He despised me.' His voice sounds light, conversational. Like he's forgotten where he is. 'Balekin?' I ask, thinking of what I saw at Hollow Hall. 'My father.' Cardan snorts. 'I didn't much know the others, my brothers and sisters. Isn't that funny? Prince Dain- he didn't want me in the palace, so he forced me out.' I wait, not sure what to say. It's disturbing to see him like this, behaving as though he might have emotions. After a moment, he seems to come back to himself. His eyes focus on me, glittering in the dark. 'And now they're all dead.”

SadHolly BlackThe Folk Of The AirJude DuarteCardan GreenbriarJudeCardanDespisedContemplativeThe Cruel Prince
Book:The Cruel Prince
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“It's supposed to be very beautiful, the Citadel,' Oak says. 'It is beautiful, Wren?' When the light went through the ice of the castle, it made rainbows that danced along its cold halls. You could almost see through the walls, as though the whole place was one large, cloudy window. When I was brought to it for the first time, I thought it was like living inside a sparkling diamond. 'It's not,' I say. 'It's an ugly place.”

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Book:The Stolen Heir
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“It is a gown, but one such as I have never seen before. It is composed mostly of the cloth she showed me, but there are strips of other material running through it, some diaphanous and others satiny, some patterned in butterfly wings, some felted wool. Dangling threads hang from torn edges, and a few pieces of thin fabric have been wadded up to give them a new texture. The swirling patchwork she has created is at once tattered and beautiful.”

BeautifulHolly BlackThe Stolen HeirSurenWrenDressGownPatchworkTattered
Book:The Stolen Heir
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“He is even more horrifically beautiful than I was able to recall. They're all beautiful, unless they're hideous. That's the nature of the Folk. Our mortal minds cannot conceive of them; our memory blunts their power. His every finger sparks with a ring. An etched and jeweled breast-plate in polished gold hangs from his shoulders, covering a frothy white shirt. Boots curl up at his toes and rise high over his knees. His tail is visible, curled to one side of his leg. I suppose he has decided it is no longer something he needs to hide. At his brow, of course, is the Blood Crown. He regards me with gold-rimmed black eyes, a smirk hovering at the corners of his mouth. His black hair tumbles around his face, unbound and a little messy, as though he's recently risen from someone's bed.”

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Book:The Queen of Nothing
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“Taryn finally comes down. She's been bathed in lilac dew and wears a gown of incredibly fine layers of cloth on top of one another, herbs and flowers trapped between them to give the impression that she's this beautiful, floating figure and a living bouquet at the same time. Her hair is braided into a crown with green blooms all through it. She looks beautiful and painfully human. In all that pale fabric, she looks like a sacrifice instead of a bride. She smiles at all of us, shy and glowingly happy.”

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Book:The Wicked King
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“I'm sorry,' she said to each of the dead as she unzipped and unfastened their things, 'I'm sorry Courtney. I'm sorry Marcus. I'm sorry Rachel. I'm sorry Jon. I'm sorry I'm alive and you're dead. I'm sorry I was asleep. I'm sorry I didn't save you and now I'm taking your things. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.”

BeautifulRomanceLiteratureDarkBooksYaParanormal RomanceParanormalHolly BlackVampiresThe Coldest Girl In ColdtownGavrielTana Bach
Book:The Coldest Girl in Coldtown
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“Are you sure?" Aidan asked, "Gavriel's still a vampire." "He warned me about you and about them. He didn't have to. I'm not going to repay that by-" she hesitated, then frowned. "What did you call him?" "That's his name," Aidan sighed, "Gavriel. The other vampires, while they were tying me to the bed, they said his name." "Oh." With a final tug she pulled the blanked free and tossed it over to 'Gavriel”

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Book:The Coldest Girl in Coldtown
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