Meagan Spooner Quotes

Fairy tales are about lessons. Those who are virtuous and true are rewarded, while those who are wicked and greedy are punished.

Because the law will never be just. Perhaps it can come close - so close the line is hard to see. But laws are written by men, who are imperfect by nature, and justice belongs to something beyond the power of men.

She's going to rescue him." Lena stared from Asenka to Yeva, spluttering. "R-rescue? Yeva! You're no knight from an old story, and he's certainly no maiden in distress." "No,

if you're reading this book, then you're also that child reading by flashlight and dreaming of other worlds. Don't be scared of her, that inner Beauty, or her dreams. Let her out. She's you, and she's me, and she's magic. There's

How do you know this story?"
Yeva's breath caught. "Because it's my story too," she whispered. "Because I thought I wouldn't be happy until I left town to live in the wood, and then I thought I wouldn't be happy until I could hunt every day, and then I thought I wouldn't be happy until I avenged my father's death. Because I spent a year in an old castle with the young prince and the gray wolf and I thought I couldn't be happy until I killed them both, and when I did, I wept harder than I ever have in my life. Because I thought I couldn't be happy until I went home, and then I thought I couldn't be happy until I came back."
"Because I thought the reason I'd always felt so restless was because I was meant for magic," Yeva said softly. "That if I could fix the story, that if I rescued the young prince and the gray wolf and I found the Firebird and I held in my hands everything I'd ever wanted, I would live happily ever after.

I would have kept you safe,' he said.
I closed my eyes, forcing the tears down my cheek to break against the dam of his fingers.
'I know.

Who are you to say that being a lady, in itself, is not its own kind of war.

I don't want to be kept safe! I don't want to have someone constantly trying to keep me from tripping on my own incompetence. I want to live in a world where I know the rules, where people are just people. Not one where they keep trying to eat me. That's the reason I left the city in the first place. I don't want to be kept, not by anyone.

Vis in magia, in vita vi." In magic there is power, and in power, life.

I've heard this sound before, she realized, her entire body tingling. She'd caught glimpses of it, like a distant haunting refrain, in her deepest moments of silence in the wood. When the long days stretched timelessly on, and her mind emptied of thoughts until there was only her footsteps in the snow, only the feel of the bow in her hand, the bite of cold on her cheeks. When everything else faded away, this sound was what was left.

It's not about just saving ourselves – we have to be worthy of salvation.

All of it - for this. Leading us to a door we can't open, a password we don't have.

She moves like beauty, she whispers to us of wind and forest - and she tells us stories, such stories that we wake in the night, dreaming dreams of a life long past. she reminds us of what we used to be.

She reminds us of what we could be.

So while I dedicated this book to myself, it's also dedicated to you. Male or female, young or old, if you're reading this book, then you're also that child reading by flashlight and dreaming of other worlds. Don't be scared of her, that inner Beauty, or her dreams. Let her out. She's you, and she's me, and she's magic.
There's no such thing as living happily ever after - there's only living. We make the choice to do it happily.
You are the Firebird. And above everything else, I'm most grateful for you.

It has been so long since we have heard a voice that was not screaming.

The magic doesn't give you a weapon," he said softly. "It gives you a choice.

There never was any hope," Caesar muttered.
"There was, before you destroyed it.

BEAST She calls you Beast, for that is what you are. And Beauty. The surprise is not the compliment, not the truth, that she is beautiful. The surprise is not that we wish to help her. The surprise is not even the electric warmth that rises at the sound of her voice, even when she is shouting. The surprise is how much I long to hear her call me, just once more, Ivan.

I am not asking you to love me," he said, his voice ringing in the quiet winter air. "Only that you let me love you. As I do.

There were maybe thirty or forty of them - nothing to how many were in the ruined library - but these had been cared for, protected and preserved against the years. And though they showed wear, cracked spines and corners rubbed such that the dye had faded, it was the kind of wear from use, the wear her own family's books had shown before they sold them. These books were read, many times. These books were loved. The

Her thoughts came to life in the stillness of the wood, nurtured by the air and the scent and the vividness of it.

I will call you Beauty, for that is what you are.

He grimaced back, and for a moment it was a little easier to pretend we both believed there's be an "eventually" to look forward to.

I would give up a thousand happy endings just to go back with you to your valley, and live as we did. I'd give up every fairy tale I've ever known just to hear you say my name again.

There's no such thing as living happily ever after - there's only living. We make the choice to do it happily.

You disapprove," she commented. "Because I'm a girl?" "No." The voice paused. "Females are often the best hunters. They must provide for the young and survive when the males are too busy posturing to do so. But this is not the way with humans." "Humans?

To the girl
who reads by flashlight
who sees dragons in the clouds
who feels most alive in worlds that never were
who knows magic is real
who dreams

This is for you

Flirtation was already outside Marian's expertise, but trying to seem receptive to his advances was all the harder when he made none.

Because I thought I couldn't be happy until I went home, and then I thought I couldn't be happy until I came back.

Fire cannot hurt us. And yet, when we light her a lantern, there is a moment as we watch the wick flare in the darkness-a moment in which I want to touch the flame. Just to see if I can still be burned.

She remembered perching on the sill of her bedroom window with the pane opened a crack so she could let the winter in, and she remembered letting it sting her nose and wash over her until she was shivering and blue.

There is something out there, he'd said. Something cunning.

Radical and insurgent and impatient. Those qualities sound more like you, my love.

It wasn't Sherwood Forest he haunted, it was Marian. She carried him in her thoughts and she would carry out his will with her own hands.