When a street musician lowered his violin to inquire, 'Hey lovely, what you got there?' she said, 'Musicians … - Laini Taylor

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You may rely on it that you have the best of me in my books, and that I am not worth seeing personally, the stuttering, blunderingclod-hopper that I am. Even poetry, you know, is in one sense an infinite brag and exaggeration. Not that I do not stand on all that I have written,--but what am I to the truth I feebly utter?

Laini Taylor

When a street musician lowered his violin to inquire, 'Hey lovely, what you got there?' she said, 'Musicians who ask questions,' and kept on dragging.

Hey, Kept, Lovely, Lowered, Musician, Said

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She moved like a poem and smiled like a sphinx.

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Bitter, bitter, this desolation of angels.

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Happiness. It was the place where passion, with all its dazzle and drumbeat, met something softer: homecoming and safety and pure sunbeam comfort. It was all those things, intertwined with the heat and the thrill, and it was as bright within her as a swallowed star.

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She knocked and waited, because when the door was opened from within, it had the potential to lead someplace quite different.

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Hope can be a powerful force. Maybe there's no actual magic in it, but when you know what you hope for most and hold it like a light within you, you can make things happen, almost like magic.

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