Iris

“His eyes, usually as black and hard as obsidian were softer now, with the sheen of a crow’s wing in sunlight. “You love me anyway,” she teased.
“That’s true,” he said softly.
“Your weakness,” she replied in equally quiet tones.
“No. My strength.” They made love, this time without the power of their combined Gifts flowing hot between them, yet Martise would argue with anyone that its absence made no difference. There was sorcery aplenty in loving the one you held most dear.”
― Grace Draven, The Brush of Black Wings

“Stay,” she panted. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Stay till the end.”
“And after,” he said. “And always.”
“I want to feel safe again. I want to go home to Ravka.”
“Then I’ll take you there. We’ll set fire to raisins or whatever you heathens do for fun.”
“Zealot,” she said weakly.
“Witch.”
“Barbarian.”
“Nina,” he whispered, “little red bird. Don’t go.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows

“The more a person pushes others away, the clearer it becomes he is in need of love the most.”
― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn

“Some things exist in our lives for but a brief moment. And we must let them go on to light another sky.”
― Renee Ahdieh, The Wrath and the Dawn