Érika > Érika's Quotes

“Peace was like any high. It couldn't last. It was an illusion, something that could be interrupted in a moment and lost forever.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ninth House

“And maybe he wanted her to be the kind of girl who dressed as Queen Mab, who loved words and had stars in her blood.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ninth House

“He needed her and she needed him. That was how most disasters began.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ninth House

“Take me back. Make me into someone who has never been done harm. Go as far as you can. Make me brand-new. No bruises. No scars.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ninth House

“You won’t understand what I mean now, but someday you will: the only trick of friendship, I think, is to find people who are better than you are—not smarter, not cooler, but kinder, and more generous, and more forgiving—and then to appreciate them for what they can teach you, and to try to listen to them when they tell you something about yourself, no matter how bad—or good—it might be, and to trust them, which is the hardest thing of all. But the best, as well.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“And so I try to be kind to everything I see, and in everything I see, I see him.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“...things get broken, and sometimes they get repaired, and in most cases, you realize that no matter what gets damaged, life rearranges itself to compensate for your loss, sometimes wonderfully.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“Why wasn’t friendship as good as a relationship? Why wasn’t it even better? It was two people who remained together, day after day, bound not by sex or physical attraction or money or children or property, but only by the shared agreement to keep going, the mutual dedication to a union that could never be codified.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“Wasn’t friendship its own miracle, the finding of another person who made the entire lonely world seem somehow less lonely?”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“What he knew, he knew from books, and books lied, they made things prettier.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“Who am I? Who am I?”
“You’re Jude St. Francis. You are my oldest, dearest friend. You’re the son of Harold Stein and Julia Altman. You’re the friend of Malcolm Irvine, of Jean-Baptiste Marion, of Richard Goldfarb, of Andy Contractor, of Lucien Voigt, of Citizen van Straaten, of Rhodes Arrowsmith, of Elijah Kozma, of Phaedra de los Santos, of the Henry Youngs. You’re a New Yorker. You live in SoHo. You volunteer for an arts organization; you volunteer for a food kitchen. You’re a swimmer. You’re a baker. You’re a cook. You’re a reader. You have a beautiful voice, though you never sing anymore. You’re an excellent pianist. You’re an art collector. You write me lovely messages when I’m away. You’re patient. You’re generous. You’re the best listener I know. You’re the smartest person I know, in every way. You’re the bravest person I know, in every way. You’re a lawyer. You’re the chair of the litigation department at Rosen Pritchard and Klein. You love your job; you work hard at it. You’re a mathematician. You’re a logician. You’ve tried to teach me, again and again. You were treated horribly. You came out on the other end. You were always you.”

"And who are you?"
"I'm Willem Ragnarsson. And I will never let you go.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“Friendship was witnessing another’s slow drip of miseries, and long bouts of boredom, and occasional triumphs. It was feeling honored by the privilege of getting to be present for another person’s most dismal moments, and knowing that you could be dismal around him in return.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“Sometimes he wakes so far from himself that he can’t even remember who he is. “Where am I?” he asks, desperate, and then, “Who am I? Who am I?”
And then he hears, so close to his ear that it is as if the voice is originating inside his own head, Willem’s whispered incantation. “You’re Jude St. Francis. You are my oldest, dearest friend. You’re the son of Harold Stein and Julia Altman. You’re the friend of Malcolm Irvine, of Jean-Baptiste Marion, of Richard Goldfarb, of Andy Contractor, of Lucien Voigt, of Citizen van Straaten, of Rhodes Arrowsmith, of Elijah Kozma, of Phaedra de los Santos, of the Henry Youngs.
“You’re a New Yorker. You live in SoHo. You volunteer for an arts organization; you volunteer for a food kitchen.
“You’re a swimmer. You’re a baker. You’re a cook. You’re a reader. You have a beautiful voice, though you never sing anymore. You’re an excellent pianist. You’re an art collector. You write me lovely messages when I’m away. You’re patient. You’re generous. You’re the best listener I know. You’re the smartest person I know, in every way. You’re the bravest person I know, in every way.
“You’re a lawyer. You’re the chair of the litigation department at Rosen Pritchard and Klein. You love your job; you work hard at it.
“You’re a mathematician. You’re a logician. You’ve tried to teach me, again and again.
“You were treated horribly. You came out on the other end. You were always you.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“The axiom of equality states that x always equals x: it assumes that if you have a conceptual thing named x, that it must always be equivalent to itself, that it has a uniqueness about it, that it is in possession of something so irreducible that we must assume it is absolutely, unchangeably equivalent to itself for all time, that its very elementalness can never be altered. But it is impossible to prove. Always, absolutes, nevers: these are the words, as much as numbers, that make up the world of mathematics. Not everyone liked the axiom of equality––Dr. Li had once called it coy and twee, a fan dance of an axiom––but he had always appreciated how elusive it was, how the beauty of the equation itself would always be frustrated by the attempts to prove it. It was the kind of axiom that could drive you mad, that could consume you, that could easily become an entire life.

But now he knows for certain how true the axiom is, because he himself––his very life––has proven it. The person I was will always be the person I am, he realizes. The context may have changed: he may be in this apartment, and he may have a job that he enjoys and that pays him well, and he may have parents and friends he loves. He may be respected; in court, he may even be feared. But fundamentally, he is the same person, a person who inspires disgust, a person meant to be hated.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“None of them really wanted to listen to someone else’s story anyway; they only wanted to tell their own.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“Fairness is for happy people, for people who have been lucky enough to have lived a life defined more by certainties than by ambiguities.
Right and wrong, however, are for—well, not unhappy people, maybe, but scarred people; scared people.”
― Hanya Yanagihara, A Little Life

“Get inside! You're bleeding!"
"I will not bleed any less indoors, you utter madwoman.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“One doesn’t need magic if one knows enough stories.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“Perhaps it is always restful to be around someone who does not expect anything from you beyond what is in your nature.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“If anyone were to claim greater happiness in their careers than I do in poking about sunlit wildwoods for faerie footprints, I should not believe it.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“I knew you wouldn’t believe it. Just because you have a heart filled with the dust of a thousand library stacks does not mean everybody does.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“I prefer your company, Em."
He said it as if it were obvious. I snorted again, assuming he was teasing me. "Over the company of a tavern filled with a rapt and grateful audience? I'm sure you do."
"Over anyone else's company." Again, he said it with some amusement, as if wondering what I was doing speculating about something so evident.
"You are drunk," I said.
"Shall I prove it to you?"
"No, you shan't," I said, alarmed, but he was already sweeping to the floor, bending his knee and taking my hand between his.
"What in God's name are you doing?" I said between my teeth. "And why are you doing it now?"
"Shall I make an appointment?" he said, then laughed. "Yes, I believe you would like that. Well, name the time when it would be convenient for you to receive a declaration of love."
"Oh, get up," I said, furious now. "What sort of jest is this, Wendell?"
"You don't believe me?" He smiled, all mischief, a look I'd seen from other Folk, enough to know not to trust him one inch. "Ask for my true name, and I'll give it to you."
"Why on earth would you do that?" I demanded, yanking my hand back.
"Oh, Em," he said forlornly. "You are the cleverest dolt I have ever met."
I stared at him, my heart thundering. Of course, I am not a dolt in any sense; I had supposed he felt something for me and had only hoped he would keep it to himself. Forever. Not that a part of me didn't wish for the opposite. But that was when I assumed his feelings in that respect were equivalent to what he felt for any of the nameless women who passed in and out of his bed. And why would I lower myself to that, when he and I already had something that was vastly more valuable?”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“Were you expecting me to throw myself at you? Would you have then said a dozen pretty things about my eyes or hair?"
"No, it would have been, 'Get off me, you imposter, and tell me what you did with Emily.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“...books became my best friends.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“And you shall shut yourself away forever in those old stones with your books and your mysteries like a dragon with her hoard, having as little association with the living as possible and emerging only to breathe fire at your students.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“There is nothing trivial about good coffee.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“Would you prefer to wait?”
In answer, he kissed me—much more slowly than the kiss I had given him, and more skillfully too, I’m afraid. Afterwards he didn’t lean back as I expected, but trailed his lips down my neck, sending a shiver skittering through me.
“You can begin by removing your clothes,” I said. “If you would like to. To clarify, this is a suggestion, not a demand.”
“Oh, Em,” he said, laughing softly against my neck. I had my hands in his hair, which was now quite mussed, something that made me absurdly happy.
“I’m sorry,” I said, self-conscious now. “Perhaps I shouldn’t talk.”
“Whyever not?” He drew back, examining me with a perplexed smile. “I like the way you talk. And everything else about you, in fact. Is that not clear by now?”
I felt laughter bubble up inside me, but I hid it behind a mock-serious expression. “I’m not sure.”
His smile changed, and he trailed his hand down the side of my neck. “Let me show you.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“I’m afraid I have not gotten over my resentment of him for saving me from the snow king’s court in Ljosland earlier this year, and have made a solemn vow to myself that I shall be the one to rescue him from whatever faerie trouble we next find ourselves in. Yes, I realize this is illogical, given that it requires Wendell to end up in some dire circumstance, which would ideally best be avoided, but there it is. I’m quite determined.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“Em, I must confess—I am in awe of you. I believe I am also a little frightened.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“I knew you were the real threat. Mortals always are, aren’t they? If you read the stories. The arrogant faerie prince who can make gold from straw is always undone by the humble miller’s daughter, not some powerful rival of his own stature.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands