Best 15 quotes of Margaret Rogerson on MyQuotes

Books, too, had hearts, though they were not the same as people's, and a book's heart could be broken: she had seen it happen before. Grimoires that refused to open, their voices gone silent, or whose ink faded and bled across the pages like tears.

He was astonishingly vain even by fair folk standards, which was like saying a pond is unusually wet, or a bear surprisingly hairy.

No. You surpass us all." Beside me she looked colorless and frail. "You are like a living rose among wax flowers. We may last forever, but you bloom brighter and smell sweeter, and draw blood with your thorns.

Of course ." A wicked gleam entered his eyes. "But I only turn girls into salamanders on Tuesdays. Luckily for you, it´s a Wednesday, which is the day I drink a goblet of orphan´s blood for supper.

Once, a Whimsical poet died of despair after finding himself unequal to the task of capturing a fair one's beauty in simile. I think it more likely he died of arsenic poisoning, but so the story goes.

She quite happily replied that she had plenty of books to keep her company. " The Director sighed. "Her attachment to grimoires is..." "Concerning? Yes indeed. If she does not suffer from the lack of company, I fear it is because she sees grimoires as her friends in place of people.

Some days, the memories hung over her like a weight. Each was light enough to bear on its own, but combined, they could make it difficult to even walk up the stairs. And yet, she wouldn't trade them away for anything. Their existence made this house, this life, a place she had fought for and won. A place where she belonged.

The library possessed a life of its own, had become greater than Cornelius had ever intended. For these were not ordinary books the libraries kept. They were knowledge, given life. Wisdom, given voice. They sang when starlight streamed through the library's windows. They felt pain and suffered heartbreak. Sometimes they were sinister, grotesque- but so was the world outside. And that made the world no less worth fighting for, because wherever there was darkness, there was also so much light.

The library wants to fight back.

The stone itself bled the malice of ancient things that had languished in darkness for centuries – consciousnesses that did not slumber, minds that did not dream.

Wardens both protected grimoires from the world and protected the world from them.

What is this, master - the third time I've broken you out of a jail cell? Nathaniel coughed. "Minor misunderstandings, on both previous occasions," he assured Elisabeth. (...) "At least you're wearing clothes this time, master.

When terrible things have happened to you, sometimes the promise of something good can be just as frightening.

You belong in the library, as much as any book.

You like this place?" "Of course I do. It has books in it.