Elisa

“—La vida sigue una serie de patrones… O de ritmos. Cuando nos sentimos atrapados en una única vida es muy fácil imaginar todas las tristezas, las tragedias, los fracasos y los miedos que pueblan esa existencia en particular. Pero todo lo malo es un producto derivado de la vida, en cierto sentido. No es la vida, sin más. Lo que quiero decir es que las cosas nos serían mucho más fáciles si entendiéramos que ningún estilo de vida nos inmuniza contra el drama. Ninguno. La tristeza es intrínseca a la felicidad, es uno de los hilos del tejido de la felicidad, por decirlo así. Por supuesto, todas estas cosas se presentan en distinto grado y cantidad. Pero no existe ninguna vida en la que podamos sentirnos felices para siempre. Imaginar lo contrario solo consigue hacernos más infelices en la vida que nos ha tocado vivir.”
― Matt Haig, The Midnight Library

“He cuts his gaze toward his unpredictable, mortal High Queen, whose wild brown hair is blowing around her face, whose amber eyes are alight when she looks at him.
They are two people who ought to have, by all rights, remained enemies forever.
He can't believe his good fortune, can't trace the path that got him here.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“Everyone finds different lessons in stories, I suppose, but here’s one. Having a heart is terrible, but you need one anyway.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories

“You didn't hear the story I told," he goes on. "A shame. It featured a handsome boy with a heart of stone and a natural aptitude for villainy. Everything you could like."

She laughs. "You really are terrible, you know that? I don't even understand why the things you say make me smile."

He lets himself lean against her, lets himself hear the warmth in her voice. "There is one thing I did like about playing the hero. The only good bit. And that was not having to be terrified for you."

"The next time you want to make a point," Jude says, "I beg you not to make it so dramatically."

His shoulder hurts, and she may be right about the iron poisoning. He certainly feels as though his head is swimming. But he smiles up at the trees, the looping electrical lines, the streaks of clouds.

"So long as you're begging," he says.”
― Holly Black, How the King of Elfhame Learned to Hate Stories