Brittney > Brittney's Quotes

“Libraries were full of ideas—perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass

“You could rattle the stars," she whispered. "You could do anything, if only you dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass

“We each survive in our own way.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass

“You cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Because I am lost," she whispered onto the earth. "And I do not know the way.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you've committed. And I know this because I've been doing the same damn thing for two hundred years. Tell me, do you think you will go to some blessed Afterworld, or do you expect a burning hell? You're hoping for hell--because how could you face them in the Afterworld? Better to suffer, to be damned for eternity and--”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“That was when they noticed that every musician on the stage was wearing mourning black. That was when they shut up. And when the conductor raised his arms, it was not a symphony that filled the cavernous space.

It was the Song of Eyllwe.

Then Song of Fenharrow. And Melisande. And Terrasen. Each nation that had people in those labour camps.

And finally, not for pomp or triumph, but to mourn what they had become, they played the Song of Adarlan.

When the final note finished, the conductor turned to the crowd, the musicians standing with him. As one, they looked to the boxes, to all those jewels bought with the blood of a continent. And without a word, without a bow or another gesture, they walked off the stage.

The next morning, by royal decree, the theatre was shut down.

No one saw those musicians or their conductor again.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Celaena shuddered. "This conversation's become far too awful to have after eating." she said, slumping against the pillows. "Tell me which one of your little cadre is the handsomest, and if he would fancy me."
Rowan choked. "The thought of you with any of my companions makes my blood run cold."
"They're that awful? Your kitty-cat friend looked decent enough."
Rowan's brows rose high. "I don't think my kitty-cat friend would know what to do with you-nor would any of the others. It would likely end in bloodshed." She kept grinning, and he crossed his arms. "They would likely have very little interest in you, as you'll be old and decrepit soon enough and thus not worth the effort it would take to win you."
She rolled her eyes. "Killjoy.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“All she knew was that whatever and whoever climbed out of that abyss of despair and grief would not be the same person who had plummeted in.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“She was not becoming anything different from what she always was and always had the capacity to be. You just finally saw everything. And once you saw that other part of her… You cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love. Just as you cannot pick which parts of me you accept.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“His breath caught, harsh enough that she looked over her shoulder.

But his eyes weren't on her face. Or the water. They were on her bare back.

Curled as she was against her knees, he could see the whole expanse of ruined flesh, each scar from the lashing. "Who did that to you?"

It would have been easy to lie, but she was so tired, and he had saved her useless hide. So she said, "A lot of people. I spent some time in the Salt Mines of Endovier."

He was so still that she wondered if he'd stopped breathing. "How long?" he asked after a moment. She braced herself for the pity, but his face was so carefully blank-no, not blank. Calm with lethal rage.

"A year. I was there a year before... it's a long story." She was too exhausted, her throat too raw, to say the rest of it. She noticed then his arms were bandaged, and more bandages across his broad chest peeked up from beneath his shirt. She'd burned him again. And yet he had held her- had run all the way here and not let go once.

"You were a slave."

She gave him a slow nod. He opened his mouth, but shut it and swallowed, that lethal rage winking out. As if he remembered who he was talking to and that it was the least punishment she deserved.

He turned on his heel and shut the door behind him. She wished he'd slammed it-wished he'd shattered it. But he closed it with barely more than a click and did not return.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Because hers was not a story of darkness.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Faster than lightening, his hand shot out and she gagged, jolting as he grabbed her tongue between his fingers...He released her tongue, and she gasped for breath. She swore at him, a filthy, foul name, and spat at his feet. And that's when he bit her. She cried out as those canines pierced the spot between her neck and shoulder, a primal act of aggression--the bite so strong and claiming that she was too stunned to move. He had her pinned against the tree and clamped down harder, his canines digging deep, her blood spilling onto her shirt. Pinned, like some weakling. But that was what she'd become, wasn't it? Useless, pathetic.

She growled, more animal than sentient being. And shoved.

Rowan staggered back a step, teeth ripping her skin and she struck his chest. She didn't feel the pain, didn't care about the blood or flash of light. No, she wanted to rip his throat out--rip it out with the elongated canines she bared at him as she finished shifting and roared.
Rowan grinned. "There you are.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“One by one, like shadows emerging from the mist, they appeared. The faces of the people she had loved with her heart of wildfire.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Maeve had lied. Or lied by omission. But she knew. She knew what the girl had gone through-knew she'd been a slave. That day-that day early on, he'd threatened to whip the girl, gods above. And she had lost it. He'd been such a proud fool that he'd assumed she'd lashed out because she was nothing more than a child. He should have known better-should have known that when she did react to something like that, it meant the scars went deep. And then there were the other things he'd said...”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“She would remake the world - remake it for them, those she had loved with this glorious, burning heart;”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“And slowly, wobbling, a droplet of water the size of a marble rose from the surface to her cupped palm.

“No wonder your sense of self-preservation is so pathetic, if that’s all the water you can conjure.” But Rowan flicked her chin, and she knew he understood what it meant, to have summoned even a droplet to her hand. To feel her mother smiling at her from realms away.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Aelin of the wildfire.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Rowan looked into her eyes, into the very core of her, and said, “Fireheart.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Primal anger sharpened in his gut, brimming with a territorial, possessive need. Not a need for her, but a need to portect--a male's duty and honor.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“He'd devoured the goat in two bites, then gone back to enjoying the wildflowers.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“He let out a soft, lethal laugh that raked claws down her temper.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Everything was comfortable, tasteful, as if the apartment were for lounging and nights by the fire. And there were so many books—on shelves, on the tables by the couch, stacked beside the large armchair before the curtained floor-to-ceiling window spanning the entire length of the great room.

Smart. Educated. Cultured, if the knickknacks were any indication. There were things from across kingdoms, as if she'd picked up something everywhere she went. The room was a map of her adventures, a map of a whole different person. Aelin had lived. She'd lived, and seen and done things.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“I see her slipping away, bit by bit, because you shove her down when she so desperately needs someone to help her back up.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“A white-tailed hawk still flew overhead, and it swooped low to brush its star-silvered wing against her cheek in farewell before it turned back with a sharp cry.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“She yawned, and Rowan rubbed his eyes, his other hand still in hers. But he didn’t let go. And when she awoke before dawn, warm and safe and rested, Rowan was still holding her hand, clasped to his chest. Something molten rushed through her, pouring over every crack and fracture still left gaping and open. Not to hurt or mar—but to weld. To forge.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“In her bones, in her blood and breath and soul, she was so, so tired.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“You didn’t need a weapon at all when you were born one.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“Why are you crying, Fireheart?”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire

“He didn’t back away again as she approached and said with every ember left in her shredded heart, “I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn. I don’t care what you say and how much you protest. I claim you as my friend.”
― Sarah J. Maas, Heir of Fire