Book Title Quotes

“Humans. For the most part, you are dull and blundering. But occasionally, you can be remarkably bright creatures.”
― Shelby Van Pelt, Remarkably Bright Creatures

“The thin how-to book belonging to Smittie had a dark and perplexing title—HOW TO COMMIT SUICIDE EFFECTIVELY EVERY TIME.”
― Jasun Ether, The Beasts of Success

“The Side Effects of Dying in Your Pants isn't really funny… Alright, it's a little funny.”
― John Green

“Lengo la jina la kitabu ni kuishawishi hadhira kusoma dibaji, na lengo la dibaji ni kuishawishi hadhira kusoma salio la kitabu kizima.”
― Enock Maregesi

“If you’re looking for an adventure, you should find another vacation. The Faraway Inn is an escape,” Calisa said. “It offers a few days to just breathe. To think, if you want, or not think. To be calm. To heal, if you need to. To have space and quiet.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Faraway Inn

“The tendency to invent things had been with her for a long time. Back in high school, she’d pretended not to understand a simple maths problem so as to persuade the boy she fancied into helping her. After studying for the upcoming test together, they’d ended up dating. As an adult, she’d called up a different crush late at night to tell him that she felt like she was being followed, and succeeded in luring him over to her apartment. She didn’t feel guilty about these deceptions. Being neither beautiful nor having any outstanding talents, she needed some hook in order to attract people’s interest. It was something that everyone did, to a greater or lesser degree.”
― Polly Barton, Hooked

“Most mornings I get up to listen to the birds, and each summer I taste the honeysuckle, and I kiss Rus in the golden hours of dusk every chance I get. I kiss him in the mornings, too, and in the early afternoons, and in the gazebo of that someday garden, when we finally built it.
I never heard Harriet’s voice again, and while the gardens spun strange stories for other people, Lilymoor’s magic politely passed us by.
Then again, we didn’t need it anymore as we fell in love over and over and over again, season after season, in that someday garden on the cliffs by the sea.”
― Ashley Poston, The Someday Garden

“Lucy remembers seeing the Odyssey among the books heaped on Jess's dining room table, and thinks of Charybdis and Scylla, female nymphs who became monsters of the sea. The sirens, luring sailors to their deaths.”
― Emilia Hart, The Sirens

“You know there are ways to travel; you heard the stories even when you were alive. Spirits returning for festivals. For offerings left in their name. For Halloween. There were spirits that haunted old Victorians, and gas station bathrooms, and amusement parks. It can't be that hard.
But when you start asking around, other spirits--- Hungry ones who've been in the Food Hall much longer, old-timers with sunken faces, shadowed limbs--- tell you that there's only one way back that can sate the Hunger.
They call it the Magic Meal. A Reincarnosh. An Aftertaste.
It has a lot of names, but if you find yours, it's a Golden Ticket. A way to return to your Living. A last meal to help them finally let you go.”
― Daria Lavelle, Aftertaste

“@EatPostLike
In pursuit of all things delicious.”
― Emily Arden Wells, Eat Post Like

“But, hey, it sounds as if your mobile vet business has a name."
"It sure does," Evie said. She held her hands out, as if pointing at a marquee. "Pugs and Kisses to the Rescue.”
― Farrah Rochon, Pugs and Kisses

“You didn't just remove a full-size human statue from the library without anyone noticing, especially from as prominent and well-guarded a site as the North Reading Room. She couldn't imagine how the head librarian had managed it. She hoped Rijes hadn't endangered herself in the process. But regardless of how...
It seemed clear to her that regardless of how, these plants were why. It was far too much of a coincidence otherwise. She was guilty of plant magic; suddenly, here she was in an enchanted greenhouse that needed magical help.”
― Sarah Beth Durst, The Enchanted Greenhouse

“There was this time of morning that always gave me peace. I liked to call it the "Violet hour."
Not because it was my alone time, although it was, but because the light was the prettiest blue violet. It was the hour before the sun would rise, turning the pitch-black velvet night into the fresh blue brightness of day. It happened right before the world woke up and gave me the slice of the morning to really think, or pray, or problem-solve.”
― Victoria Benton Frank, The Violet Hour

“Yes, I always go out this early for a walk when the light is purple"--- he gave me a shy smile---"or violet..."
"I... me too. It's the Violet hour!”
― Victoria Benton Frank, The Violet Hour

“I am re-inventing myself, writing my own story; changing my name to fit the course that I have chosen for myself. The old woman called me Vianne Rocher. Not Rochas, but Rocher, like the chocolate. This seems meaningful, somehow. As if that village on the Baïse and the chocolaterie on Allée du Pieu might both be part of my future. And before I settle anywhere, I need to learn how to be Vianne.”
― Joanne Harris, Vianne

“Behind me, the cries of the gulls on the wind are scratches of silver in the sky. And it smells of smoke, and the carnival, and of the river in the sun, and sugared dough fried on the hot plate, and herbs to heal a troubled heart. I walk from the harbor and do not look back.
Vianne, or Mother?
Vianne it is.”
― Joanne Harris, Vianne

“It is in Italian, and I can just read the recipe title, scrawled in large cursive above the incomplete ingredients list. Torta Fioritura Degli Aranci. I translate it in my head. Orange Blossom Cake. That sounds yummy... and intriguing.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“Often I think back to that day three years ago when I did not take the bite of the Orange Blossom Cake. Sometimes I regret that I missed my chance to see the happiest moment of my life, but mostly I just feel grateful that I found the courage to take a risk for my right hard things. Now I try to live as though each day may indeed contain the best moment of my life. One day it will, but I won't know it until I look back on my life from beyond the grave, with the wisdom and perspective of eternity. So I embrace each day as fully as I can, trying to infuse each hour with purpose, meaning, love, and joy. I think this is the most important lesson of the cookbook. This is the true secret of Orange Blossom Cake.”
― Rachel Linden, The Secret of Orange Blossom Cake

“My brother Clive thinks I'm dog crazy," she says.
"In this office," I respond, deadpan, "we call it 'dog normal.'"
Anya's lip twitches. Is that the beginning of a smile? I sense something shifting between us. The line was a joke, but I was also serious. It's important that my patients know they aren't alone in caring deeply for an animal companion. Our dogs see us at our best and at our worst, and love us with unparalleled devotion through it all. We share our lives with them. They know our deepest, darkest secrets, things that sometimes our closest human confidants don't even know. No one should feel ashamed for caring for another being, for feeling heartbroken when a friend is gone. What is more "normal" than love?”
― Meg Donohue, Dog Crazy

“But I want to teach you something else, My Fair Señor."
He laughed. "Is this some weird My Fair Lady obsession? You used to love that movie. I'll have you know that I'm a perfect gentleman. I even went to Mr. Benjamin's Cotillion class in sixth grade. It was a huge thing in La Jolla."
"No, no, Jaime. You're perfectly refined. And I did love that movie.”
― Alana Albertson, My Fair Señor

“It was ridiculous to cast my shadow over her light. The bee girl didn’t know what it was like to wonder if she even had a soul, or if the emptiness inside was merely a sign that her soul was rotten. She had honey in her veins, not death. Not rot.
Not like me.”
― Ruth McKell, Honey in Her Veins

“You can't write without words, and you can't create perfumes without knowing scents and materials, so you need a vocabulary for what you're doing. An olfactory library."
"A library of flowers," says Ana.
"And spices and herbs and chemicals," Mom says.”
― L.C. Chu, The Library of Flowers

“Of all the love stories I’ve written, yours has been my absolute favorite. Now go. Live. You have so many chapters ahead of you— and quite the happily ever after to finish.


Yours,
M.B.


Katie’s fingers flew over the manuscript’s cover page. Tropesick, by Meredith Bradford.
“This is the book?” she said. “Our book?”
I nodded.”
― Lauren Okie, Tropesick

“Mina pulled out the tissue paper to reveal something black. She liked it already. Lifting it out of the bag, she discovered a zip-up hoodie. When she unfolded it, she saw the Lore Club logo that she’d drawn on the board at their first meeting. Her fingers traced the letters. Her letters. Her eyes filled with tears.
“I screenshotted the video I took that day, with the logo on the board,” Arthur said.
“We really liked it and thought it would look cool on a hoodie,” Jackie nodded.
“I love it,” Mina said, pulling on the hoodie and zipping it up. The inside was soft and warm. “It’s perfect. Thanks, guys. This means… this means everything.”
“We love you, Mina, our fearless leader of lore,” Jackie said, resting her head on Mina’s shoulder.”
― Melanie Dale, Girl of Lore

“I was going through a stack of manuscripts and the word Aura caught my eye. I’m not completely sure how this is related to Circe yet, but I translated the story about a young woman named Ursula. Her beauty was so renowned that knights leaving on crusades would stop by her father’s hut just to look at her. They believed good fortune would befall them if they gazed into her eyes.”
“What time period is that?” Serena asked.
“The thirteenth century.”
“That’s about the time Stanton was kidnapped by the Atrox,” Vanessa said softly.
Kendra nodded and waited a moment before she went on, her finger running along the words written on the page. “According to the manuscript, the devil also saw her beauty and pursued her, offering her great wealth if she would betroth him. Knowing her father’s poverty, she decided to sacrifice her life for the good of her family. She asked for only one gift for herself—”
“To preserve her beauty for eternity,” Jimena interrupted.
Kendra smiled. “That’s right. Apparently she suffered from vanity.”
“But could Ursula be Aura?” Catty seemed skeptical. “That would mean she’s been alive for centuries.”
“There’s more,” Kendra continued. “Ursula betrayed the devil by falling in love with a mortal.”
“Lambert.” Serena gasped.
“The manuscript didn’t give a name, but the devil found out and punished Ursula by destroying her beauty. She remained alive but in bodiless form and was called Aura after that.”
“She’s been alive for that long?” Tianna looked stunned.
Kendra nodded. “In Latin, Aura means the one who is like air. She lived as a wind spirit until she found a way to possess other bodies.”
― Lynne Ewing, Possession

“Penelope shuddered and swirled around. Something dangerous lurked in the raging fire. Then a black shadow wrapped around her. The foggy shape of a man stood beside her, its eyes wicked black points, its strong arrogant face challenging her.
“So you’re the one sent to stop me.” It spoke with a proud voice and stroked her shoulder.
She winced and pulled away, disgust rushing through her, but even as she hated its touch, it also awakened a forbidden hunger, and a pleasant thrill traveled up her spine.
The Atrox smiled as if it knew her secret thoughts. Too late she realized she had let down her guard. It was in her mind, sensing her revulsion and desire. Its grin filled with hideous confidence.
Fervent flames shot up in celebration, howling with desire, the swirling vortex slapping around her. Her heart throbbed, its beat slowing. The cold became unendurable and she began to cry, tears freezing on her cheeks. When she could bear it no more, the pain changed and burst through her veins with a sweet ache, filling her with deliciously evil and dangerous longings. She saw new possibilities. Why not give in and join the Atrox? Why continue the struggle?
The conflagration hissed louder, her flesh needing its touch. Shadow hands fondled her back, the caress intolerably arousing. She surrendered and stretched out her arms. But as she ran her hands over her body, her fingers touched the talisman, and the trance broke. She recoiled and tried to step away from the fire. The blaze grabbed her and drew her back, its soft swelling roar trying to comfort her.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Talisman

“Chris was fading, his image flickering in the breeze, a suggestion of the person he had been centuries back seeming to eclipse the person he had become.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
But he didn’t seem angry: he stared at her as if seeing her for the first time, his eyes full of gratitude. “You’re the embodiment of the Scroll now, Catty,” he said reverentially. “My job is complete. No heir before you has had the courage to do what you did. The Prophecy has been fulfilled.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Prophecy

“Finally, Jimena spoke. "Maybe Tianna is the becoming."
"What does that mean?" Tianna asked.
"I don't remember completely," Jimena said. "In the beginning of the ancient world, when Selene stopped the Atrox from destroying hope, the Atrox vowed to bring an unimaginable curse upon the world. Followers call it the becoming. The gods call it the becoming sorrows, but what that means I don't know yet."
"Do you think Tianna will do something?" Serena asked. "Maybe like Pandora, she'll release—"
"I would never do anything to hurt people." Tianna interrupted, folding her arms tightly across her chest. "Do you think I'd free disease and misery like Pandora? I'm not that stupid."
Catty put an arm around Tianna. "You'd never do it on purpose, but maybe—"
She shrugged off Catty's hand. "I wouldn't do it even by accident. Think about it. If the Atrox asked you to open a jar or a trunk, would you?"
Catty shrugged.
"But suppose there's something you're going to do or have already done that will start an unstoppable series of events," Serena suggested. "Like when you used the Secret Scroll—"
"Would you get off it?" Tianna shot back angrily. "I thought I could defeat the Atrox then."
Serena ignored her and looked at Jimena. "Do you think that could be it? Could Tianna have done something when she summoned the Atrox? Maybe the becoming sorrows only refers to a new era when the Atrox is stronger and Tianna would be the becoming because she helped it escape its binding."
"It's possible," Jimena agreed.
"She didn't do it intentionally," Catty added as if trying to protect Tianna from their accusations.
"Of course it was accidental," Jimena agreed, but there was doubt in her eyes. "Tianna would never do anything like that on purpose. We'll have to wait and see what happens.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Becoming

“I’ll do this for everyone I’ve loved that it has destroyed.”
“It’s the only way to stop your becoming,” he said, as if that would give her solace. Then he kissed her cheek and started to fall back, dissolving into a flicker of shade.
“Stanton,” she asked, stopping him. “What is this becoming everyone has been talking about?”
His words drifted to her as the wind swept his shadow away. “Becoming the mother of the Atrox’s child.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Becoming

“Shadows writhed over her with sensual slowness, lulling her with each caress, and the faint scent of sulfur permeated the air. Something familiar stirred inside her, awakening, and she no longer felt afraid. She stretched, enjoying the sensation of soft air wrapping around her. She slid her hands down her body, reveling in a primitive feeling of wickedness. Her fingers caught on the sword’s hilt. She jerked her hand away and jarred the blade, making the tip slice her ankle. Pain shot up her leg.
Do you have something you want to do? The Atrox asked.
The words slipped across her mind.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Her will to fight had vanished, replaced with only one desire: to please her master. She drew the sword from her waistband. The blade licked her thigh and its energy flared in warning, igniting her blood on the point. She let it fall. It hit something solid, as if she were still standing on the rocky shore. The clatter rang into the universe and echoed through her with terrible, foreboding force.
For the briefest moment she hesitated, unsure, but then the swarming dark twirled lazily around her. She closed her eyes again and fell back, dissolving in the Atrox’s embrace. She was becoming.”
― Lynne Ewing, The Becoming