Best 60 quotes of Victoria Schwab on MyQuotes

A Corsai, a Malchai, and a Sunai walk into a bar— Everyone groaned, including August.

And she was *happy*. The kind of happy that smoothed time into still frames.

And you?" asked Kate. "Your brother is righteous, your sister is scattered. What does that make you?" When August answered, the word was small, almost too quiet to hear. "Lost." He exhaled, and it seemed to take more than air out of him. "I'm what happens when a kid is so afraid of the world he lives in that he escapes the only way he knows how. Violently.

Are you proud of yourself, Katherine?" She studied her nails. "Quite.

As she taped up her latest cuts, she wondered if, somewhere, there was a version of herself having fun. Feet up on the back of a theater seat while movie monsters slunk out of the shadows, and people in the audience screamed because it was fun to be afraid when you knew you were safe.

Because caring was a thing with claws. It sank them in, and didn't let go. Caring hurt more than a knife to the leg, more than a few broken ribs, more than anything that bled or broke and healed again. Caring didn't break you clean. It was a bone that didn't set, a cut that wouldn't close. It was better not to care--Lila tried not to care--but sometimes, people got in.

But the fact is, dreams catch us with our armor off.

But the thing about people, Kell had discovered, is that they didn't really want to know. They thought they did, but knowing only made them miserable.

Cole steps forward, his fingers reaching around my shoulders, and kisses me. It is sudden and smooth and soft as air against my lips. The wind whips around us, tugging at the fabric of our clothes, but not pulling us apart. And then it's gone, the cool pressure against my lips, and my eyes are open and looking into two gray eyes like river rocks. "/That's/ what you wanted to show me?" "No," he says, his fingers slipping down my arms as he leads me off the path and out, away from Near. "That was just in case.

Da used to say that lies were easy, but trust was hard. Trust is like faith: it can turn people into believers, but every time it's lost, trust becomes harder and harder to win back.

Da used to say that only fools and cowards scorned fear. Fear keeps you alive.

Don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights,” she said, shimmying along the edge. “Not heights,” he murmured. “Just falling.

Doubt is like a current you have to swim against, one that saps your strength.

Everything hurts. I don't know how to make it stop. It hurts when I breathe. It hurts when I think. I feel like I'm drowning, and it's my fault, and I don't know how to be okay. I don't know if I CAN be okay. I don't know if I should be allowed to be okay.

Everything that rises will fall. Empires, societies, governments. None of them lasts forever. Why? Because even though they are the products of change, they become resistant to change. The longer a society survives, the more it clings to its power, and the more it resists progress. The more it resists progress- resists change- the more its ciizens demand it. In response, the society tighten its grip, desperate to maintain control. It's afraid of losing its hold.

Every weakness is a place to slide a knife.

For one, dazzling, infinite moment, August felt like he was standing on a precipice, the end of one world and the beginning of another, a whisper and a bang.

Having something and losing it, it's so much crueler than never having had it.

He manages a sad smile. “An omission is not the same thing as a lie, Miss Bishop. It’s a manipulation.

He wondered about himself (whether he was broken, or special, or better, or worse) and about other people (whether they were really all as stupid as they seemed).

I am a man, not a movement,” he said. “But if a movement is what it takes to end this war, then I will play my part.

I am Sunai,” he said. “I am holy fire. And if I have to burn the world to cleanse it, so help me, I will.

I can see why my daughter likes you." "Do you think she's falling for my dashing good looks, my charm, or the fact that I supply her with pastries?

I don’t know who I am, and who I’m not, I don’t know who I’m supposed to be, and I miss who I was; I miss it every day, Kate, but there’s no place for that August anymore. No place for the version of me who wanted to go to school, and have a life, and feel human, because this world doesn’t need that August. It needs someone else.

If Verity's sins were knives, quick and vicious, then Prosperity's were poison. Slow, insidious, but just as deadly.

If you don't show, I'm likely to do something foolish, like throw myself at Aluc-

Ignorance may be bliss, but only if it outweighs curiosity. Curiosity is a gateway drug to sympathy.

Imagine a place where the dead rest on shelves like books.

I mean, most people want to escape. Get out of their heads. Out of their lives. Stories are the easiest way to do that.

I’m willing to walk in darkness if it keeps humans in the light.

Isn't it strange? It's like after they die, you're only allowed to remember the good. But no one's all good.

Some people forget, he thought. A bad thing happens to them and their mind sweeps in and buries the bad thing deep, and all that’s left is a stretch of white in their heads, like fresh snow. Looking at it—at them—you wouldn't even know anything was trapped beneath. Some people forget, but David remembered everything.

Like I said, Kenzie. Everything ends. I’m not afraid to die,” you say with a wan smile. “I just hope I’m smart enough to stay dead.

Listen to me,” he said, pulling off his coat. “You need to stay awake.” She almost laughed, a shallow chuckle cut short by pain. He tore the lining from the Colton jacket. “What’s so funny?” “You’re a really shitty monster, August Flynn.

Lying is easy. But it's lonely." "What do you mean?" "When you lie to everyone about everything, what's left? What's true?" "Nothing," I say. "Exactly.

Magda looks at me as if I've gone mad. Or I've grown up. It's kind of the same thing.

Mourning was its own kind of music—the sound of so many hearts, of so many breaths, of so many standing together.

...something more than the sum of its parts-

People were messy. They were defined not only by what they'd done, but by what they would have done, under different circumstances, molded as much by their regrets as their actions, choices they stood by and those they wished they could undo. Of course, there was no going back - time only moved forward - but people could change. For worse. And for better. It wasn't easy. The world was complicated. Life was hard. And so often, living hurt. So make it worth the pain.

Properly buried." "Properly kept." "That is the way with witches." "And with all things.

Sight is an important thing, August. Without it, our minds invent, and the things they invent are almost always worse than the truth. It’s important that they see us. See you. It’s important that they know you’re on their side.

Sing you a song and steal your soul.

Sometimes I miss the people my characters were before I ruined their lives.

Stories have power,” she says. “So long as you believe them.

That's how he saw climbing, a physical exercise in positive and negative space. The vast expanse of white drawing the small, person-shaped speck into sharp relief.

The moments that define lives aren't always obvious. They don't always scream LEDGE, and nine times out of ten there's no rope to duck under, no line to cross, no blood pact, no official letter on fancy paper. They aren't always protracted, heavy with meaning.

There are no monsters in the dark.

There have been times when I've wavered. When I thought maybe I wanted to be normal. But the thing is, what we do, it's in our blood. It's who we are. Normal wouldn't fit us, even if we wanted to wear it.

There's a difference between wanting to stay and being too afraid to let go.

There were some people you had to stay away from, people who poisoned everything in reach. Then there were people you wanted to stick with, the ones with silver tongues and golden touched. And then, there were people you stood beside, because it meant you weren't in their way. And whoever Victor Vale was, whatever he was, and whatever he was up to, the only thing Mitch knew was that he did not want to be in his way.