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“I like music," she said slowly, "because when I hear it, I . . . I lose myself within myself, if that makes any sense. I become empty and full all at once, and I can feel the whole earth roiling around me. When I play. I'm not . . . for once, I'm not destroying, I'm creating.”
― Throne of Glass
― Throne of Glass
“She'd... she'd... Well she'd kill him if he was dead.”
― The Assassin and the Pirate Lord
― The Assassin and the Pirate Lord
“No matter what happens," she said quietly, "I want to thank you."
Chaol tilted his head to the side. "For what?"
Her eyes stung but she blamed it on the fierce wind and blinked away the dampness. "For making my freedom mean something.”
― Throne of Glass
Chaol tilted his head to the side. "For what?"
Her eyes stung but she blamed it on the fierce wind and blinked away the dampness. "For making my freedom mean something.”
― Throne of Glass
“Because she wasn't human, Chaol realized, gaping at her from where he still crouched over Fleetfoot.
No - she wasn't human at all.
Celaena was Fae.”
― Crown of Midnight
No - she wasn't human at all.
Celaena was Fae.”
― Crown of Midnight
“What's your name?" he asked above the roar of the music.
She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song."
He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself.
"I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be."
He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two.”
― The Assassin and the Underworld
She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song."
He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself.
"I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be."
He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two.”
― The Assassin and the Underworld
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