Aru Shah And The End Of Time Quotes

A particularly good book has a way of opening new spaces in one's mind. It even invited you to come back later and rummage through what you'd learn.

It is not failure to fail.

It was one of the things that she liked best when her mother told her the stories: villains could be heroic, and heroes could do evil.

Sometimes light illuminates things that are better left in the dark.

Tales are slippery, her mother had often said. The truth of a story depends on who is telling it.

I believe that the world could be different. I believe that our destinies aren't chains around our necks, but wings that give us flight.

People are a lot like magical pockets. They're a lot bigger on the inside than they appear to be on the outside.

Death is like a parking lot. You stay there for just a bit and then go somewhere else.

Maybe that's why superheroes wore capes. Maybe they weren't capes at all, but safety blankets, like the one Aru kept at the bottom of her bed and pulled up under her chin before she went to sleep. Maybe superheroes just tied their blankies around their necks so they'd have a little bit of comfort wherever they went. Because honestly? Saving the world was scary. No harm admitting that.

You are the Daughter of Death," hissed Aru. "You don't walk into a telephone pole because of a boy.

This is what we get for thinking that scaley orange skin and fake hair could keep that former demon out of elected office.

Secrets are curious things. They are flimsy and easily broken. For this reason, they prefer to remain hidden.

Love looked different to everyone.

It is better, perhaps, to be thought of as a fiction than to be discarded from memory completely.

The world had a tendency to trick people.

Memories are the grandest illusion of all.

You will never be a hero. You were never meant to be a hero." Hero. that one word made Aru lift her chin. It made her think of Mini and Boo, her mom, and all the incredible things she herself had done in just nine days. Breaking the lamp hadn't been heroic... but everything else? Fighting for people she cared about and doing everything it took to fix her mistake? That was heroism. Vajra became a spear in her hand. "I already am. And it's heroine.

Aru was twelve years old. Even she knew that half the time she didn't know what she was doing.

They said I would never remember how strong and powerful I am until someone reminded me," said Hanuman. "Sometimes I wonder if it is a curse that we are all under at some point or another.

Sometimes you don't even know how special you might be. Sometimes it takes moments of horror or happiness to, if you will, unleash that knowledge.

Aru used to think that friends were there to share your food and keep your secrets and laugh at your jokes while you walked from one classroom to the next. Sometimes, though, the best kind of friend is the one who doesn't say anything but just sits beside you. It's enough.

Real life doesn't always sound like it should.

Does that mean I get to do magical things, too? Do I get powers? Or a cape?" "There shall be no capes." "A hat?" "No." "Theme song?" "Please stop.

But worry for a friend can make ordinary circumstances extraordinary.

Blood isn't the only thing that makes you related to someone

On the breeze, she could hear the final words of people who had died: 'No not yet!' And 'Please make sure someone remembers to feed Snowball.' And 'I hope someone clears my Internet browser.

The day was on its way to being uneventful. That should have been her first warning. The world has a tendency to trick people. It likes to make a day feel as bright and lazy as sun-warmed honey dripping down a jar as it waits until your guard is down... And that's when it strikes.

Between a demon that could end the world and a seventh-grade girl, Aru (and probably most people) would choose the demon any day.

Who are you?" Aru grinned. This was the moment she had been waiting for all her life. In school, the teachers always asked instead: What's you name? Now, finally, she could say her dream response to Who are you? "Your worst nightmare," she said in a deep Batman voice.

Four p.m. is like a basement. Wholly innocent in theory. But if you really think about a basement, it is cement poured over restless earth. It has smelly, unfinished spaces, and wooden beams that cast too-sharp shadows. It is something that says almost, but not quite. Four p.m. feels that way, too. Almost, but not quite afternoon anymore. Almost, but not quite evening yet. And it is the way of magic and nightmares to choose those almost-but-not-quite moments and wait.

Why should I say thank you?" asked Mini. "I knew you could do it.

You are merely a child, and children are sometimes the cruelest of all.

She'd never been thanked, let alone HUGGED, after telling a lie. But maybe she hadn't lied at all. Maybe it wasn't lying as much as it was applying some imagination. Looking at something from a different angle. That wasn't such a bad thing.

Words had their own power.

Everyone has a bit of good and bad in them.

A particularly good book had a way of opening new spaces in one's mind.

Believe that our destinies aren't chains around our necks, but wings that give us flight

Could you please move? Your shadow is touching mine." "Oh, I am so sorry." said Monsoon apologetically. "I didn't mean to." "Whatever," said Aru.

Maybe...maybe her gift wasn't lying. Maybe her gift was imagination. Imagination was neither good nor bad. It was a little bit of both. Just like her.

Mini whimpered. "This is where the Council meets?" "They gather on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and during full moons and new moons, and also for the season premiere and finale of Game of Thrones.

It wouldn't be a unicorn without a horn. That's what the word means! Uni, for one. And then corn for, you know, horn. One-horned." "Yeah, but they're supposed to be all peaceful and nice. Why would a unicorn need a horn? What's it do with it?" Mini turned red. "I dunno. For shooting off magic and stuff." "Or they use it to maul things." "Thats horrible, Aru" They're unicorns. They're perfect.

Imagination was neither good nor bad. It was a little bit of both.

Her mother had often reminded her that pigeons were "rats with wings.

There were so many things I wanted to do!" moaned Mini. "I never even got to shave my legs.

Aru Shah, wasn't just another seventh grader slouching through middle school, but someone extraordinary.... Aru was waiting for magic. And every day she was disappointed.

Are you ready, daughter of Indra?' it asked. 'Nope,' said Aru. She took a deep breath. 'But let's go anyway.

Stop it!" she said now, when Burton started poking at Lord Shiva''s trident. "Why" "Because...Because there are cameras! And when my mom comes back, she'll tell the government of India and they'll come after you.

Imagine having to live in a place like this," she said through chattering teeth. "You'd have to pick your nose all the time just so that your boogers wouldn't freeze into icicles and stab the inside of your nose.

No words in any language can pin down exactly how life and death function.

For sometimes, when we take the deadliest aim, we are nothing if not reckless.

How am I supposed to stop the Sleeper from getting to the Lord of Destruction if I can’t throw a bow and arrow?” “You shoot a bow and arrow!

What about when knights aren't good enough?" "Even is they fail, they're still knights," said Aru

Aru knew because she'd dealt with it every day in school, that flare of not knowing where you belonged. That craving to be seen and go unnoticed at the same time.

heroines,

Only one of the five Pandava brothers could light the lamp. Do you know where he went, human girl?" Aru lifted her chin. "I lit the lamp." The bird stared. And then stared some more. "Well, then, we might as well let the world end.

From inside the elephant, the bird had sounded like it could convince a mountain to turn into a volcano. Now it sounded like her math teacher that one time he had tried to perform a cappella but had stepped on a Lego piece.

The truth of a story depends on who is telling it.

Death had some claim everywhere. Death was in the wind coaxing a flower to blossom. Death hid in the wing of the bird folding itself to sleep.

But be warned: regret will always follow. It is the price of aiming true. For sometimes, when we take the deadliest aim, we are nothing if not reckless.

(The librarian had screamed, Book murder! And now all the parents were scared of her.)

Aru was waiting for magic. And every day she was disappointed

Maybe that’s why superheroes wore capes. Maybe they weren’t actually capes at all, but safety blankets, like the one Aru kept at the bottom of her bed and pulled up under her chin before she went to sleep. Maybe superheroes just tied their blankies around their necks so they’d have a little bit of comfort wherever they went. Because honestly? Saving the world was scary. No harm admitting that. (And she could have done with her blankie right about then.)

The world is rusty at being dazzling, and so…here I am.

Even when knights fail, they're still knights

But it was real life, and real life doesn’t always sound like it should.

she felt magic on her tongue, like fizzing Pop Rocks candy.

Welcome to the Night Bazaar,” he said. “On behalf of the gods and storytellers around the world, we hope you leave with your life intact and your imagination brimming.

Until now, the Pandavas have always appeared as fully grown people, not squished bundles of hormones and incompetence.

Looking is too quiet a word for what he’s doing. He’s hunting,

With increasing darkness comes answering light,” said Boo. “Even in chaos, the world will seek balance.

Is that a good thing?” “It’s a powerful thing,” sniffed the bird. “And between good and power, I will always choose the latter.

Maybe superheroes just tied their blankies around their necks so they’d have a little bit of comfort wherever they went.

Aru lifted her chin. “I lit the lamp.” The bird stared. And then stared some more. “Well, then, we might as well let the world end.

Death had some claim everywhere. Death was in the wind coaxing a flower to blossom. Death hid in the wing of the bird folding itself to sleep. Death was in every breath she inhaled.

Is it such a bad thing, children, to forget?” asked a voice from somewhere in front of them. “If you never remember, you never grow old. Innocence keeps you ageless and blameless. People are rarely punished for deeds they cannot recall.

Hi,” he said. Aru opened her mouth. Closed it. Come on, Aru. You walked through the Kingdom of Death. You can talk to a— He smiled. “Don’t I know you?” “I…” She choked. Why did her voice suddenly seem so deep, out of nowhere? She sounded like the weatherman. She made a fist and hit her throat. Which only made her cough. Say something! But the only thing her brain could come up with was: How you doin’? No! thought Aru. Definitely do not say that. This was what she got for marathoning Friends. Aru smiled. And then she opened her mouth. “I know where you live!” Aiden stared at her. She stared at him. “You what?” “I…um…demons. Good-bye.” She had never run home so fast in her life.

I always thought the mirror was a strange gift. Would it not have been better to give me something useful, like silks…or valuable, like jewels? But I think my husband always suspected that he would meet a violent end and leave me to face the world alone. He told me that should there ever come a time when I needed answers, I would find them in this. I tried looking into it a few times, but whenever I saw my reflection, I was reminded of who was no longer standing beside me. It’s a lonely thing…to truly behold yourself.

cursed lamp is a much more interesting topic than, say, a visit to the dentist. Although one could argue that both are cursed.

It was as if all the silence had been scraped off and thrown somewhere else.

Was she a heroine if all she did was fix a mistake she made? Or was it heroic because she was willing to fix it in the first place?

Mini reached for a small pebble on the ground. “Um, Mini…?” And then she hurled it straight at the gigantic cauldron full of poison, hollering, “For science!!!

Do whales have uvulas?” “How am I supposed to know if it’s a girl whale?” “It’s the dangly punching-bag–looking thing in the back of your throat,

Good-bye, inedible tiny humans and Subala!” called the makara, no longer visible to them. “May all the doors you face in life swing open and never smack you in the butt as they close!

thought it was the most fascinating thing she ever discussed. A cursed lamp is a much more interesting topic than, say, a visit to the dentist. Although one could argue that both are cursed.

The world has a tendency to trick people. It likes to make a day feel as bright and lazy as sun-warmed honey dripping down a jar as it waits until your guard is down…. And that’s when it strikes.

Heroines usually are the Kingdom of Death's worst nightmares. They're always barging in, waving scraps of metal around, and demanding things. No manners whatsoever." "Excuse you!" said Aru. "What about heroes! I bet they're just as bad as heroines." " It's a compliment! Heroes rarely have the guts to demand things. Usually they just sulk until a magical sidekick feels bad for them and does all the work while they get all the credit.

(Dude, how come the Greeks don’t get a goddess of chocolate? No fair.) The Maya also have shape-shifters, demons, magicians, giants, demigods, and an underworld that may or may not be accessible from the back of a local taco shop.

It is something that says almost, but not quite. Four p.m. feels that way, too. Almost, but not quite afternoon anymore. Almost, but not quite evening yet. And it is the way of magic and nightmares to choose those almost-but-not-quite moments and wait.

She wanted all the statues to shatter on the spot. She wished they weren't so... naked. So different. It reminded her of last year, when her mother had taken her to the sixth-grade honors banquet at her old school. Aru had worn what she thought was her prettiest outfit: a bright blue salwar kameez flecked with tiny star-shaped mirrors and embroidered with thousand of silver threads. Her mother had worn a deep red sari. Aru had felt like part of a fairy tale. At least until the moment they had entered the banquet hall, and every gaze had looked too much like pity. Or embarrassment. One of the girls had loudly whispered, Doesn't she know it isn't Halloween?

He earned the name Valmiki (“born of an anthill”) after performing severe religious penances for several years. During that time, large anthills formed near him. Not sure why. Building a nest around a human dude does not seem like a sound housing decision. Maybe they thought he was a boulder. Must’ve been quite a shock when Valmiki finally opened his eyes and stood up. (“Boulder, how could you? Betrayal!”)

The door was a dark mirror. Aru wondered if it was a two-way one that let people on the other side see you while you only saw your reflection. Aru had learned about those the hard way. Two weeks ago she had looked in the mirrored door to the teacher’s lounge to see if there was something up her nose. A teacher had coughed quietly on the other side, and said, “Dear, you’re free of boogers. Trust me. I can see quite clearly.” Aru had been mortified.

That her best talent wasn’t defeating monsters…it was pretending.

Aru thought that if she were to reach out, her fingers would meet a thin sheet of glass.

What a quaint notion, child,” said Time. “But I am just one part of Time. I am Past Time. You see, there are all kinds of Time running around. Future Time, who is invisible, and Present Time, who can’t hold any one shape. Pacific Standard Time is currently swimming around near Malibu. And I think Eastern Standard Time is annoying stockbrokers on Wall Street. We’re all quite wibbly-wobbly. If what you say is true, I am merely one part of what you must save.

It is not always a failure to fail, Aru.

Do you realize how cruel it is to tell someone that their future is fixed? That they can do nothing but play out their life like a puppet?

Arjuna’s story isn’t really about shooting through a fish’s eye. It’s about focusing, peeling away distractions. That’s how you aim true. The only way out is through my mind.

Anything and everything can kill you, Mini. You don’t need to point it out every time.

I used to think friends were there to share your food and secrets and laugh at your jokes… Sometimes though, the best kind of friend is the one who doesn’t say anything, just sits down beside you, helps you pick up the pieces.

Okay, sometimes I do lie, but only because I have a big imagination.