Madrigal Quotes

“...something was starting to take shape, out of magic and will. Smoke and bone.”
― Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone

“Everything lined up. It has been easy, as if it were meant-"
"Meant!" she said, amazed. She spun to face him, which, in the crush, brought her against his chest as if they were still dancing. She fought backward for space. As if what were meant?"
"You," he said. "And me.”
― Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone

“We dreamed together of the world remade.”
― Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone

“She may have been the one whose name meant music, but his sounded like it. Saying it made her want to sing it, to lean out a window and call him home. To whisper it in the dark.”
― Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone

“She experienced a queer collision of reactions these days. Karou's were foremost, and the most immediate, but Madrigal's were hers, too: her two selves, coming together with a strange kind of vibration. It's wasn't disharmony, exactly.”
― Laini Taylor, Days of Blood & Starlight

“Nwella came up with a silver bowl and a big soft brush, and before Madrigal knew what was happening Nwella had dusted her chest, neck, and shoulders with something that glittered.
“What—?”
“Sugar,” she said, giggling.
“Nwella!” Madrigal tried to brush it off, but it was dust-fine and it clung: sugar powder, which girls wore when they planned to be tasted. If her rose petal lips and naked back were not enough invitation to Thiago, Madrigal thought, this certainly was. Its telltale shimmer might as well have been a sign that said LICK ME.”
― Laini Taylor

“Willy - red and shining, his spectacles bemisted, voice glutinous, alcohol sweating from every pore - had sung what he called an old English madrigal in his harsh, thick Scots; at the end he had walloped down, like a porpoise stranded by the tide, on the sofa where Mary sat, and given her a succulent porpoiseful kiss on the nape of the neck. It had been a good turn and everybody had laughed.”
― Ann Scott-Moncrieff, Chapman 47-48: Tom Scott / Ann Scott-Moncrieff