Curse So Dark And Lonely Quotes

I am always surprised to discover that when the world seems darkest, there exists the greatest opportunity for light.

Failure isn't absolute, just because you couldn't save everyone doesn't mean you didn't save anyone.

We are all dealt a hand at birth. A good hand can ultimately lose - just as a poor hand can win - but we must all play the cards the fate deals. The choices we face may not be the choices we want, but they are choices nonetheless.

The choices we face may not be the choices we want, but they are choices nonetheless.

Not all scars can be seen, my lady.

Words spoken in the dark in the middle of the night always feel so much heavier than they would at any other time.

Rhen,” she calls after me. I pause in the doorway and face her. “I’m not going to fall in love with you,” she says. Her words are not a surprise. I sigh. “You won’t be the first.

It [is] possible to be strong and yielding at the same time.

When my sister died,” Freya says quietly, “it was very sudden. I had no time to say goodbye. But she knew I loved her. I knew she loved me. It is not the moment of passing that is most important. It is all the moments that come before.

Failure isn’t absolute.

I didn’t realize it was possible to be strong and yielding at the same time.

It is not the moment of passing that is most important. It is all the moments that came before.

This early in the season, the other girls would sit by the hearth and gaze at me over crystal goblets, while I’d pour wine and tell stories with just enough devilishness to make them blush. If I put a crystal goblet in this one’s hand, she’d likely smash it and use the shards to cut me.

I can appreciate that he wants to do it himself, but I'm kind of done with prideful men

You are merciful and kind. But kindness and mercy always find their limit, beyond which they turn to weakness and fear.

I do not understand how she can fill me with such hope and fear simultaneously. I pull her hand to my chest and lean in to her, until we share breath. My lips brush across hers. It is barely a kiss, but she is somehow closer to me, her body a pool of warmth against mine. I want so desperately to turn it into more, to see where this blossoming attraction will lead.

My father once said we are all dealt a hand at birth. A good hand can ultimately lose - just as a poor hand can win - but we must all play the cards fate deals. The choices we face may not be the choices we want, but they are choices nonetheless.

Have you not figured it out yet? The curse torments us all.

I was born this way and I'm going to die this way, so teach me to work around it.

She's not the type to swoon for pretty lies.

Are you prepared to die, Grey?" I demand. "Because that is all that exists at the end of this path. I am sure of it. This was never a curse to be broken. This is a death sentence. The true curse has been the thought that we might find escape.

Never offer blindly, my lady. Not for your family. Not even for yourself.

I will not take from those who have nothing.

My left leg is clumsy and about to give way, but I mentally threaten to cut it off if it doesn't get me out of here. It listens.

We all make mistakes. You slept with her without any intention of a relationship. Who cares? You’re not the first man to do it. And she’s not innocent! She sought you out because of who you are.” Her jaw is clenched. “I hope she does come here. I hope she comes to this room. Because I don’t care what I have to do. I’m going to end her.

You have an unusual definition of luck." She stiffens. "Spoken like someone who lives in a castle with an endless supply of food and wine, but calls himself cursed.

Our relationship seems to tick forward like the hands of a clock, always changing in relation to each other.

I’m not sure precisely what has changed between us, whether it’s trust or respect or simply the ability to see each other in a different light.

I stand and hold her until the music fades and the night grows too cold. But inside I'm warm, and my heart wants to sing.

When I was young and I’d wake with nightmares, my mother always used to say, All you have to do is think of me, and I’ll appear in your dreams. I’ll help you chase the nightmares away.

Fury and fascination wage war in my thoughts.

Just because you couldn't save everyone doesn't mean you didn't save anyone.

She was right - I have had over three hundred women to practice on. I should have known better.

Not all scars can be seen, My Lady

He has this uncanny ability to make his words a veiled threat and a whispered promise at the same time.

While your weakness may be a disadvantage in some ways, it is an advantage in others. One I think you could use to your benefit.

There was something about knowing how long you have to suffer that was better than just waiting.

DRACO: My father thought he was protecting me. Most of the time. I think you have to make a choice - at a certain point - of the man you want to be. And I tell you that at a time you need a parent or a friend. And if you've learnt to hate your parent by then and you have no friends . . . then you're all alone. And being alone - that's so hard. I was alone. And it sent me to a truly dark place. For a long time. Tom Riddle was also a lonely child. You may not understand that, Harry, but I do - and I think Ginny does too.

Once upon a time there was a king who had three beautiful daughters. No, no, wait. Once upon a time there were three bears who lived in a wee house in the woods. Once upon a time there were three soldiers, tramping together down the road after the war. Once upon a time there were three little pigs. Once upon a time there were three brothers. No, this is it. This is the variation I want. Once upon a time there were three Beautiful children, two boys and a girl. When each baby was born, the parents rejoiced, the heavens rejoiced, even the fairies rejoiced. The fairies came to christening parties and gave the babies magical gifts. Bounce, effort, and snark. Contemplation and enthusiasm. Ambition and strong coffee. Sugar, curiosity, and rain. And yet, there was a witch. There's always a witch. This which was the same age as the beautiful children, and as she and they grew, she was jealous of the girl, and jealous of the boys, too. They were blessed with all these fairy gifts, gifts the witch had been denied at her own christening. The eldest boy was strong and fast, capable and handsome. Though it's true, he was exceptionally short. The next boy was studious and open hearted. Though it's true, he was an outsider. And the girl was witty, Generous, and ethical. Though it's true, she felt powerless. The witch, she was none of these things, for her parents had angered the fairies. No gifts were ever bestowed upon her. She was lonely. Her only strength was her dark and ugly magic. She confuse being spartan with being charitable, and gave away her possessions without truly doing good with them. She confuse being sick with being brave, and suffered agonies while imagining she merited praise for it. She confused wit with intelligence, and made people laugh rather than lightening their hearts are making them think. Hey magic was all she had, and she used it to destroy what she most admired. She visited each young person in turn in their tenth birthday, but did not harm them out right. The protection of some kind fairy - the lilac fairy, perhaps - prevented her from doing so. What she did instead was cursed them. "When you are sixteen," proclaimed the witch in a rage of jealousy, "you shall prick your finger on a spindle - no, you shall strike a match - yes, you will strike a match and did in its flame." The parents of the beautiful children were frightened of the curse, and tried, as people will do, to avoid it. They moved themselves and the children far away, to a castle on a windswept Island. A castle where there were no matches. There, surely, they would be safe. There, Surely, the witch would never find them. But find them she did. And when they were fifteen, these beautiful children, just before their sixteenth birthdays and when they're nervous parents not yet expecting it, the jealous which toxic, hateful self into their lives in the shape of a blonde meeting. The maiden befriended the beautiful children. She kissed him and took them on the boat rides and brought them fudge and told them stories. Then she gave them a box of matches. The children were entranced, for nearly sixteen they have never seen fire. Go on, strike, said the witch, smiling. Fire is beautiful. Nothing bad will happen. Go on, she said, the flames will cleanse your souls. Go on, she said, for you are independent thinkers. Go on, she said. What is this life we lead, if you did not take action? And they listened. They took the matches from her and they struck them. The witch watched their beauty burn, Their bounce, Their intelligence, Their wit, Their open hearts, Their charm, Their dreams for the future. She watched it all disappear in smoke.

Right now, in this moment, I would grant her my kingdom if she asked.

If I put a crystal goblet in this one's hand, she'd likely smash it and use the shards to cut me.

You’re in Emberfall. And acting like a prince generally means acting like an arrogant know-it-all, so you shouldn’t have any trouble at all.

Rhen leans closer to me. "Have mercy, my lady. I know your soldiers are said to enjoy tearing men limb from limb, but----" "Goodness," Evalyn gasps. "The Secret Service sounds positively vicious.

You're safe with me, Mira. And I'm safe with you." He kissed her again to prove it. And when the clock struck one - that lone, ominous tone hovering in the dark - they were still kissing. Her razor blade had snagged his shirt and nicked his chest, and they'd ended up lying in the grass, hidden inside a shadow, ignoring their names whenever someone called them. He traced her mouth again and again, like he still couldn't believe it was real. There would always be a part of him she couldn't know. A secret place where his heartbreak was stored, where lost innocence and regret filled the air like smoke. She had no desire to open that door ... but she didn't know if that would change one day. If the key would tempt her, if a fairy would manipulate her or she would just be curious. But she had to believe she could be strong enough to resist. That what she wanted - what they both wanted - mattered more than the path that had been laid out for them. She let her hand slip under his shirt to touch the heart mark on his back, and he brought her other hand to his lips, and kissed every finger he'd entrusted with the key. He was so much more than his curse, and she was so much more than the girl who could betray him. Together ... they could be anything.

No one stops me. Then again, I don't ask for permission

Yes.” I pause. “You are not angry about what Lilith has done?” “Oh, I’m furious. But not about my face.” “Then what?” Her voice fills with steel. “I’m mad I missed.

He shakes his head, then meets my eyes. His voice is low and quiet in the warmth of the sunlit room. “I could have chosen no one better, my lady. Truly.

She trusts me. I trust her. This feels more monumental than love. More precious. More earned. I keep my hands to myself.

Whoa. I have no idea what I expected him to do, but that's even better.

Rhen puts his hands on my arms and leans in. When he speaks, his voice is very low, very quiet, just for me. "My father is dead, my lady. My whole family is dead." He pulls back, meeting my gaze, but his voice doesn't change. "That monster killed them all.

Earning this moment feels a thousand times more satisfying than plying women with pretty falsehoods and empty promises. In the darkness, together on the back of a horse, it's tempting to forget the curse and pretend my life doesn't exist outside this moment.

I shift on the windowsill and keep my eyes off the ground. This is the most reckless thing I’ve ever done. Wait. No. The most reckless thing I’ve ever done was attack a guy on the street with a tire iron. So I guess this is fine.

I'll take anything over days of silence.

In the second drawer I find three circlets, each adorned with more jewels. Tiaras. Because of course.

My father once said we are all dealt a hand at birth. A good hand can ultimately lose—just as a poor hand can win—but we must all play the cards fate deals.

I had no time to say goodbye. But she knew I loved her. I knew she loved me. It is not the moment of passing that is most important. It is all the moments that come before.

I can appreciate that he wants to do it himself, but I’m kind of done with prideful men.

At least she can be tamed as easily as the others. I extend my hand and give her an encouraging look. She takes a step— but then her expression shifts, her eyes darken and she swings.

Yes, my lady.” “Would you stop calling me that?” “ It is meant as a mark of respect. When you travel with me people will assume you are a lady, a servant, or a whore. ” His eyebrows go up. “ would you prefer one of the latter?” Now I want to punch him.

There are dead bodies at my feet and children whimpering in the snow. Any minute, my brain is going to catch up and I'm going to collapse into sobs. Instead, I saw the only thing my addled mind can come up with. "Thanks.

And then, because fate seems content to surprise me this season, she steps forward, presses her face against my chest, and wraps her arms around my waist.

I grip the banister and rush down the steps. My left leg is clumsy and about to give way, but I mentally threaten to cut it off if it doesn’t get me out of here. It listens.

You are not angry about what Lilith has done?" "Oh, I'm furious. But not about my face." "Then what?" Her voice fills with steel. "I'm mad I missed.

There is blood under my fingernails. I wonder how many of my people I've killed this time.

Harper has fallen into the role of princess better than I could have anticipated. She is compassionate and kind to everyone she meets, a direct contrast to the royal family of Ironrose in the past.

I was wondering if you would share your name?” She hesitates , like she's weighing the ramifications of the question. “ Harper. ” Ah, of course. No Annabeth or Isabella for this one. A name with edges.

In matters of the heart, I am clearly hopeless.” He puts down his final card—a prince. A wild card. I stare at him, stunned. It didn’t matter what I played. He would have won anyway. “In matters of strategy,” he finishes, “I am not.

Grey’s expression has no give to it now. This isn’t the man who charmed smiles out of children in the snow. This isn’t even the man who spoke passionately of honor and duty in the hallway. This is the lethal swordsman who kidnapped me. This is the scariest Grey of all.

slip out of my sneakers so my stupid left foot won’t make a dragging noise against the pavement. I can move quickly when I want to, but quiet is tough to master.

I do not understand how he can speak of my failures as if they are victories.

There is always a choice. “For the good of Emberfall,” Grey says quietly. I squeeze his hand. My voice shakes. “For the good of all.” I let go. I fall.

In truth I've burned the entire castle to the ground. More than once. The music continues to play from the ash and rubble. It was actually quite fascinating the first time.

I double over and barely have time to react before she's swinging for my head.

Such questions you ask

I completely and wholeheartedly fail.

Do you think I can't do it?” “ I have no doubt you can do it. I think His Highness will not like it.” “Oh! Well, then, posthaste or whatever you'd say here.

I’m not going to fall in love with you,” she says. Her words are not a surprise. I sigh. “You won’t be the first.

True love is not about romance. True love requires sacrifice. A willingness to place another’s life above your own.

Do not run from me.

Then we step out of the snow, into cursed warmth and dappled sunlight.

discover that when the world seems darkest, there exists the greatest opportunity for light.

En la oscuridad, al estar juntos sobre el caballo, me siento tentado de olvidar la maldición y fingir que mi vida no existe más allá de este momento. • capítulo nueve, pág. 77

Juré defender la corona con mi vida. Ser parte de algo más grande que yo. • capítulo diecinueve, pág. 166

my family would anchor me here, that I was obligated to play a role in their drama. I don’t think I ever realized that I’m not trapped by their choices, any more than they’re trapped by mine.

All along the way, you could have made a different choice and this all could have ended up differently.” I pause. “Failure isn’t absolute. Just because you couldn’t save everyone doesn’t mean you didn’t save anyone.

we are all dealt a hand at birth. A good hand can ultimately lose—just as a poor hand can win—but we must all play the cards fate deals. The choices we face may not be the choices we want, but they are choices nonetheless.

Why? What am I supposed to do?" she says, her expression piercing. "Fall in love with you?" I almost drop the glass. "Don't look so surprised," she says. "I've been trying to think of what would require you to kidnap someone each season, and that's all that makes sense. Now I understand what Grey meant when he said it's not something I can consciously do." I sigh. She continues to watch me, and her eyes narrow. "Now I understand why you're shirtless.

—No... Me refiero a por qué no estas durmiendo. —¿Quizás no estas familiarizada con lo que hace un guardia? Me doy cuenta de que Grey tiene un sentido del humor oscuro escondido tras su frialdad. Es subversivo. Me gusta. • capítulo once, pág. 94

“Please?” I clasp my hands in front of me, the way I used to do when I wanted Jake to walk me down the street for ice cream. “ Pretty please, Scary Grey?” I tease He sighs and lifts his eyes skyward— which is what Jake used to do, too, and how I know I've won.

Would you really have cut off my arm?” I ask. He gives me a glance. “I would have prevented you from causing harm,” he says. “So that's a yes” “I follow orders,” he says equably. “ I bear you no I'll will.” Somehow that's completely reassuring, yet not at all.

DRACO: My father thought he was protecting me. Most of the time. I think you have to make a choice — at a certain point — of the man you want to be. And I tell you that at that time you need a parent or a friend. And if you’ve learnt to hate your parent by then and you have no friends . . . then you’re all alone. And being alone — that’s so hard. I was alone. And it sent me to a truly dark place. For a long time. Tom Riddle was also a lonely child. You may not understand that, Harry, but I do — and I think Ginny does too. GINNY: He’s right. DRACO: Tom Riddle didn’t emerge from his dark place. And so Tom Riddle became Lord Voldemort. Maybe the black cloud Bane saw was Albus’s loneliness. His pain. His hatred. Don’t lose the boy. You’ll regret it. And so will he. Because he needs you, and Scorpius

—Usted es compasiva y amable. Pero la compasión y la bondad siempre encuentran su límite. Más allá del cual se transforman en debilidad y miedo. —¿Dónde está el límite? —pregunto suavemente. Sus ojos encuentran los míos. —Esa respuesta es diferente para cada uno de nosotros. • capítulo treinta y uno, pág. 270

I think you get cards, and you play them, but then you get more cards. I don't think it's all predestined from the beginning. All along the way, you could have made a different choice and this all could have ended up differently." I pause. "Failure isn't absolute. Just because you couldn't save everyone doesn't mean you didn't save anyone.

Something has changed about him, and it takes me a moment to discern what it is. He’s fully armed, from his long dagger to his throwing knives to the steel-lined bracers guarding his forearms. Grey hasn’t been fully armed in ages. We so rarely leave the castle grounds, and there’s certainly no one here to pose a threat. I smile as I pour. “Does this girl have you spooked, Commander?” “No, my lord.” His voice is even, unaffected. He never lets me bait him.

I felt more comfortable when you were cursing like a sailor and calling me filthy names." "Are you conceding defeat?" She tried to keep the hopeful tone from her voice when he tucked his laptop into his leather briefcase. "Of course not." His dark eyes flashed with mirth. "I have a business meeting in half an hour which I had hoped to conduct here, but I'm too much of a gentleman to intrude on your privacy while you crush the hearts of ten sad and lonely men. I look forward to battling with you tomorrow, Miss Patel. May the best man win." After the door closed behind him, she sat back in her chair surrounded by his warmth and the intoxicating scent of his cologne. She knew his type. Hated it. Arrogant. Cocky. Egotistical. Ultra-competitive. Fully aware of how devastatingly handsome he was. A total player. She would have swiped left if his profile had popped up on desi Tinder. So why couldn't she stop smiling?

Do you remember when we played cards and you told me about how your father said everyone is dealt a hand and they have to play it all the way out?” “Yes.” “I don’t think he’s right. I think you get cards, and you play them, but then you get more cards. I don’t think it’s all predestined from the beginning. All along the way, you could have made a different choice and this all could have ended up differently.” I pause. “Failure isn’t absolute. Just because you couldn’t save everyone doesn’t mean you didn’t save anyone.

I’m surprised you let him come.” He sighs and glances my way. “Far be it from me to refuse a request from the ‘Crown Prince of Disi.’ ” His tone is pointed, and I scowl. “You were unconscious! I thought Jamison was going to tell the soldiers to shoot us! What else was I supposed to call him?” He raises an eyebrow. “A servant? A footman?” I open my mouth. Close it. Grey’s not done. “A slave, my lady. A guard.” “But she picked prince,” Jake snaps. “Get over it.” Grey ignores him. “The healer’s concubine?” Jake snorts, but twin spots of pink find his cheeks. “Noah probably would have loved that.

Magnus’s head was tipped back, his shimmering white suit rumpled like bedsheets in the morning, his white cloak swaying after him like a moonbeam. His mirrorlike mask was askew, his black hair wild, his slim body arching with the dance, and wrapped around his fingers like ten shimmering rings was the light of his magic, casting a spotlight on one dancer, then another. The faerie Hyacinth caught one radiant stream of magic and whirled, holding on to it as if the light were a ribbon on a maypole. The vampire woman in the violet cheongsam, Lily, was dancing with another vampire who Alec presumed was Elliott, given the blue and green stains around his mouth and all down his shirtfront. Malcolm Fade joined in the dance with Hyacinth, though he appeared to be doing a jig and she seemed very puzzled. The blue warlock who Magnus had called Catarina was waltzing with a tall horned faerie.The dark-skinned faerie whom Magnus had addressed as a prince was surrounded by others whom Alec presumed were courtiers, dancing in a circle around him. Magnus laughed as he saw Hyacinth using his magic like a ribbon, and sent shimmering streamers of blue light in several directions. Catarina batted away Magnus’s magic, her own hand glowing faintly white. The two vampires Lily and Elliott both let a magic ribbon wrap around one of their wrists. They did not seem like trusting types, but they instantly leaned into Magnus with perfect faith, Lily pretending to be a captive and Elliott shimmying enthusiastically as Magnus laughed and pulled them toward him in the dance. Music and starshine filled the room, and Magnus shone brightest in all that bright company. As Alec made for the stairs, he brushed past Raphael Santiago, who was leaning against the balcony rail and looking down at the dancing crowd, his dark eyes lingering on Lily and Elliott and Magnus. There was a tiny smile on the vampire’s face. When Raphael noticed Alec, the scowl snapped immediately back on. “I find such wanton expressions of joy disgusting,” he declaimed. “If you say so,” said Alec. “I like it myself.” He reached the foot of the stairs and was crossing the gleaming ballroom floor when a voice boomed out from above. “This is DJ Bat, greatest werewolf DJ in the world, or at least in the top five, coming to you live from Venice because warlocks make irresponsible financial decisions, and this one is for the lovers! Or people with friends who will dance with them. Some of us are lonely jerks, and we’ll be doing shots at the bar.

Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God and loved one another. Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only possession. One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit and he came to the younger and said, “It is long that we have lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide our possessions.” Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, “It grieves me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs go, so be it,” and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him saying, “We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine.” Then the older hermit said, “Charity I will not accept. I will take nothing but mine own. It must be divided.” And the younger one said, “If the bowl be broken, of what use would it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast a lot.” But the older hermit said again, “I will have but justice and mine own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The bowl must be divided.” Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, “If it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us now break the bowl.” But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he cried, “O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight.

O God of heaven! The dream of horror, The frightful dream is over now; The sickened heart, the blasting sorrow, The ghastly night, the ghastlier morrow, The aching sense of utter woe. The burning tears that would keep welling, The groan that mocked at every tear, That burst from out their dreary dwelling, As if each gasp were life expelling, But life was nourished by despair. The tossing and the anguished pining, The grinding teeth and starting eye; The agony of still repining, When not a spark of hope was shining From gloomy fate's relentless sky. The impatient rage, the useless shrinking From thoughts that yet could not be borne; The soul that was for ever thinking, Till nature maddened, tortured, sinking, At last refused to mourn. It's over now—and I am free, And the ocean wind is caressing me, The wild wind from the wavy main I never thought to see again. Bless thee, bright Sea, and glorious dome, And my own world, my spirit's home; Bless thee, bless all—I cannot speak; My voice is choked, but not with grief, And salt drops from my haggard cheek Descend like rain upon the heath. How long they've wet a dungeon floor, Falling on flagstones damp and grey: I used to weep even in my sleep; The night was dreadful like the day. I used to weep when winter's snow Whirled through the grating stormily; But then it was a calmer woe, For everything was drear to me. The bitterest time, the worst of all, Was that in which the summer sheen Cast a green lustre on the wall That told of fields of lovelier green. Often I've sat down on the ground, Gazing up to the flush scarce seen, Till, heedless of the darkness round, My soul has sought a land serene. It sought the arch of heaven divine, The pure blue heaven with clouds of gold; It sought thy father's home and mine As I remembered it of old. Oh, even now too horribly Come back the feelings that would swell, When with my face hid on my knee, I strove the bursting groans to quell. I flung myself upon the stone; I howled, and tore my tangled hair; And then, when the first gust had flown, Lay in unspeakable despair. Sometimes a curse, sometimes a prayer, Would quiver on my parchèd tongue; But both without a murmur there Died in the breast from whence they sprung. And so the day would fade on high, And darkness quench that lonely beam, And slumber mould my misery Into some strange and spectral dream, Whose phantom horrors made me know The worst extent of human woe. But this is past, and why return O'er such a path to brood and mourn? Shake off the fetters, break the chain, And live and love and smile again. The waste of youth, the waste of years, Departed in that dungeon thrall; The gnawing grief, the hopeless tears, Forget them—oh, forget them all!