Best 249 quotes of Marie Lu on MyQuotes

She is my sister, always, even in death, even beyond.

She's pretty in a way that distracts me just like she did in the Skiz ring. No, pretty's not the right word. Beautiful.

She's the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, easily the most breathtaking girl in the room.

So long as I remain in Day's life, I will hurt him. Any other alternative is impossible. Now, he is free.

Someday I’ll see him again, and we’ll tell our stories to each other…but for now, I lock him safely away, in a place where I can draw on his strength.

Someone's going to be very pleased to see you." "I don't think the Elector will be as excited as you think." "I wasn't talking about the Elector." My heart jumps at that.

Stay safe. I want to see you again when all this is done.

That's another thing to love about me. I steal.

That was what drew him to machines. They followed algorithms, not emotion; when Bruce pushed his foot down on the pedal, the car only responded in one way.

The complete stillness of my energy is something I have never felt before. I am full of light. I am confused. A strange mix of guilt and wonder swims inside me. The thought of ruling Kenettra with Enzo at my side - Enzo, who had saved me from certain death, who brought my powers out with a mere touch of his hand on my back, whose own fire awakened my ambitions - thrills me. So why am I here, this close to a boy who is not my prince? Why am I reacting in this way to his touch?

The darkness seeps in a little more every day. What have I done? How can I be like this?

The day will come when we strike you down,” she’s saying. “Mark my words. We will haunt your nightmares.” I clench my fists and fling an illusion of pain across her body. “I am the nightmare.

The fire in you burns as fiercely as it did when I first met you.

The king is dead. Long live the queen.

The phony surrender's over; the ceasefire has ended. The final fight for the Republic has begun.

There is a darkness in you, something that gives you immense strength.

The Republic's most wanted criminal is just a boy, sitting before me, suddenly vulnerable, laying all his weaknesses out for me to see.

There's no question that the Republic has done some horrible things to us all, that they might still be doing those things. But... maybe I've also been seeing the things I want to see. Maybe now that the old elector is gone, the Republic's soldiers have started to shed their masks too.

There was once a time when darkness shrouded the world, and the darkness had a queen.

The world’s deadliest mercenaries choose to serve you, the whispers say, because they have yet to meet me.

They were the flash of light in a stormy sky, the fleeting darkness before dawn. Never have they existed before, nor shall they ever exist again.

Through the whirlwind, I hear my father's harsh whisper. I know who you really are. Who will ever want you, Adelina? My fury heightens. Everyone. They will cower at my feet, and I will make them bleed.

To love is to be afraid. You are frightened, deathly terrified, that something will happen to those you love. [...] And love enslaves us all, for you cannot have love without fear.

To those who, in spite of everything, still choose goodness.

Trusting me is a dangerous game, mi Adelinetta.

Trusting me,” Teren murmurs, “is a dangerous game, mi Adelinetta.” “I’m doing more than that,” I reply. “For the rest of this journey, you will be my personal guard.” At that, Teren’s eyes flare with surprise and anger. “I’m not your lackey, Your Majesty.” “And I’m not Giulietta,” I fire back.

Watch your back, little wolf, they say. Enemies arise from unexpected places.

We are the children of gods and angels.

Well enough,” I reply. “Remember, you’re drunk. And happy. You’re supposed to be lusting over your escort. Try smiling a little more.” Day plasters a giant artificial smile on his face. As charming as ever. “Aw, come on, sweetheart. I thought I was doing a pretty good job. I got my arm around the prettiest escort on this block—how could I not be lusting over you? Don’t I look like I’m lusting? This is me, lusting.” His lashes flutter at me. He looks so ridiculous that I can’t help laughing. Another passerby glances at me. “Much better.

We might not return from this voyage. None of us. We might all lay down our lives when we reach the end, and not ever know whether our sacrifice changed anything for the better.” “It will be for the better,” Magiano replies. “We cannot just die, not without trying. Not without fighting.” “Do you really believe that?” I ask. “Why are we doing this, anyway? To preserve my own life, and yours—but what has the world ever done for us in order to deserve our sacrifice?” Magiano’s brows furrow for a moment, then he leans in closer. “We exist because this world exists. It’s a responsibility of ours, whether or not anyone will remember it.” He nods at me. “And they will. Because we will return and make sure of it.

What if you are wrong? What if the gods sent you, and indeed the rest of us, not because we were never meant to be, but because we were always meant to be?

What is the point of searching for love, when love is nothing but an illusion?

What is worse-- a world where Hideo fights against violence, or a world where Zero fights using it?

What's the point of keeping in touch with the girl you're crazy about, when you're dying?

When Compasia took pity on me, she reached down into the Underworld, touched the shoulder of Moritas, and asked her forgiveness. Then Compasia took my sister in her arms and placed her in the sky, where she, too, turned to stardust. Magiano looks at me, his eyes wide. It seems as if he already, somehow, understands. “My goddess made me a promise,” I whisper. Only now do I realize that I have never seen him cry before. In the stories, Compasia and her human lover would descend each night from the stars to walk the mortal world, before vanishing with the dawn. So, together, we stare at the sky, waiting.

Why can’t I be like that? Why can’t I be the father who just shrugs off the love of his daughter? Why can’t I be the Lead Inquisitor who enjoys watching his pleading victims burn at the stake? Why can’t I be the one who befriends a lonely, lost girl and then casts her out? Why can’t I be the one to strike first, to hit so early and with such fury that my enemies cower before they can ever think of turning on me? What is so great about being good?

Why do you look?” I mutter. I half expect Magiano to tease me, spitting back one of his sarcastic phrases. But he doesn’t smile. “We are drawn to stories," he says in a soft voice, “and every scar carries one.” He lifts a hand and places his palm gently against the ruined side of my face, covering the scar. I look down, embarrassed now. Instinctively, I reach up to brush some of my hair over my face—only to remember that I no longer have long locks. “Hiding it makes you more beautiful,” Magiano says. Then he takes his hand away, exposing my scar again. “But revealing it makes you you.” He nods at me. “So wear it proudly.

Without her, I am less afraid of dying. Without her, the world is that much darker.

Without his father's shadow in a way, he's beautiful.

You are not your father," I say, holding his gaze with my own. "You're Anded. You don't have to follow in his footsteps; you have your own. You're the Elector now. You don't have to be like him.

You cannot harden your heart to the future just because of your past. You cannot use cruelty against yourself to justify cruelty to others.

You have to learn to look at the whole of something, not just the parts.

You led the soldiers right to my family's door. You're the reason they're dead.

You once said that you were tired of the horror in the world," I say. "Well, so am I. We can still find a way to fight it, the right way. We can find a way to do this together.

You remind me of myself from several years ago,” she says. “I always offered help—but I refused to accept any. My mother scolded me about that. Do you know what she told me? When you refuse to ask for help, it tells others that they also shouldn’t ask for help from you. That you look down on them for needing your help. That you like feeling superior to them. It’s an insult, Emi, to your friends and peers. So don’t be like that. Let us in.

Your Majesty,” he whispers, breathless. A note of amusement creeps into his voice. “You’ll ruin me.

Your strengths might make you hard to approach, and might make your words sound uglier than what you actually mean, but they also make people look up to you.

You still belong on the other side of the looking glass. Someday, when you're ready to take the step over to our side, I'll come see you again. Live well, Daniel. Make that final step count.

You think me cruel.” “No.” Magiano hesitates for a long moment. “Maybe a little.” “I’m not branding them because I am cruel,” I say calmly. “I’m doing it as a reminder of what they’ve done to us. To the marked. You’re so quick to forget.” “I never forget,” Magiano replies. This time, there is a slight sharpness to his tone. His hand hovers near his side, where his childhood wound continues to plague him. “But branding the unmarked with your crest will not make them any more loyal to you.” “It makes them fear me.” “Fear works best with some love,” Magiano says. “Show them that you can be terrifying, yet generous.” The gold bands in his braids clink. “Let the people love you a little, mi Adelinetta.