Eileen > Eileen's Quotes

“Dreams, dreams. I walk them; I live them. I delude myself with them. It's a wonder I can spot reality anymore.”
― Richelle Mead, Spirit Bound

“All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

“My God, Sage. Your eyes. How have I never noticed them?"

That uncomfortable feeling was spreading over me again. "What about them?"

"The color," he breathed. "When you stand in the light. They're amazing... like molten gold. I could paint those..." He reached toward me but then pulled back. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful.”
― Richelle Mead, Bloodlines

“But when I touch you, your aura … it smolders. The colors deepen, it burns more intensely, the purple increases. Why? Why, Sydney?” He used that hand to pull me closer. “Why do you react that way if I don’t mean anything to you?” There was a desperation in his voice, and it was legitimate.”
― Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell

“Piece of Heaven?"

"No, that other place I'm going to go to for thinking what I'm thinking.”
― Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell

“Little Dhampir”
― Richelle Mead, Frostbite

“Can you come over to Amberwood? I need you to help me break curfew and escape my dorm.”
There were a few moments of silence. “Sage, I’ve been waiting two months to hear you say those words. You want me to bring a ladder?”
― Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell

“Do you know what I see in you now? The usual aura. A steady golden yellow, healthy and strong, with spikes of purple here and there. But when I do this. . . .”

He rested a hand on my hip, and my whole body tensed up. That hand moved around my hip, slipping under my shirt to rest on the small of my back. My skin burned where he touched me, and the places that were untouched longed for that heat.

“See?” he said. He was in the throes of spirit now, though with me at the same time. “Well, I guess you can’t. But when I touch you, your aura . . . it smolders. The colors deepen, it burns more intensely, the purple increases. Why? Why, Sydney?” He used that hand on me to pull me closer. “Why do you react that way if I don’t mean anything to you?” There was a desperation in his voice, and it was legitimate.”
― Richelle Mead, The Indigo Spell

“Rose once told me about this poem she’d read. There was this line, ‘If your eyes weren’t open, you wouldn’t know the difference between dreaming and waking.’ You know what I’m afraid of? That someday, even with my eyes open, I still won’t know.”
― Richelle Mead

“Something clenched in my chest, and for a moment, the whole world narrowed down to the green of his eyes.”
― Richelle Mead

“After thirty years of intensive research, we can now answer many of the questions posed earlier. The recycle rate of a human being is around sixteen hours. After sixteen hours of being awake, the brain begins to fail. Humans need more than seven hours of sleep each night to maintain cognitive performance. After ten days of just seven hours of sleep, the brain is as dysfunctional as it would be after going without sleep for twenty-four hours. Three full nights of recovery sleep (i.e., more nights than a weekend) are insufficient to restore performance back to normal levels after a week of short sleeping. Finally, the human mind cannot accurately sense how sleep-deprived it is when sleep-deprived.”
― Matthew Walker, Why We Sleep: Unlocking the Power of Sleep and Dreams

“Neue Bücher rochen nach Druckerschwärze, nach Leim, nach Erwartungen. Alte Bücher dufteten nach Abenteuern, ihren eigenen und jenen, von denen sie erzählten. Und gute Bücher verströmten ein Aroma, in dem das alles steckte, und dazu noch ein Hauch von Magie.”
― Kai Meyer