Firebird Quotes

Every form of art is another way of seeing the world. Another perspective, another window. And science –that’s the most spectacular window of all. You can see the entire universe from there.

When in doubt, be ridiculous.

I would love you in any shape, in any world, with any past. Never doubt that.

I meant it when I said I didn’t believe in love at first sight. It takes time to really, truly fall for someone. Yet I believe in a moment. A moment when you glimpse the truth within someone, and they glimpse the truth within you. In that moment, you don’t belong to yourself any longer, not completely. Part of you belongs to him; part of him belongs to you. After that, you can’t take it back, no matter how much you want to, no matter how hard you try.

Now I know that grief is a whetstone that sharpens all your love, all your happiest memories, into blades that tear you apart from within.

I fell in love with his unchanging soul.

The funny thing about stop signs is that they're also start signs.

Paul says, "If not for yourself, my lady, stay alive for me." Our eyes meet. His next words are a whisper. "I have no need for a world without you in it.

We can't begin to learn until we admit how much we don't know.

Ten thousand skies, and a million worlds, and it still wouldn’t be enough for me to share with you. Nothing less than forever will do.

But if I learned one thing from Firebird, it’s that a person’s tragedy doesn’t define them or cancel all the good in their life.

It's comfort enough to know that there are infinite worlds. Infinite possibilities. Now I know somewhere,somehow, Sophia and I had our chance

I would love you in any shape, in any world, with any past.

Spider-Man: The Phoenix Force is a crazy powerful cosmic firebird entity that for some reason seems to be attracted to earthbound redheads (I can relate).

I have no need for a world without you in it.

I can hardly bear to look at him; it's like staring into the brightness and warmth of the sun, knowing that it's burning you while understanding that it makes your whole life possible.

I see... the way you're always searching. How much you hate anything fake or phony. How you're older than your years, but still... playful, like a little girl. How you're always looking into people, or wondering what they see when they look back at you. Your eyes. It's all in the eyes.

They say “time heals,” but even now, I know that’s a lie. What people really mean is that eventually you’ll get used to the pain. You’ll forget who you were without it; you’ll forget what you looked like without your scars.

The most powerful presence in the room is his absence.

But just because something’s been damaged doesn’t mean it’s ruined.

Because I want you to be happy. With or without me, whatever it takes.” Theo sighs. “That’s the difference between wanting someone and loving them.

Fate doesn’t guarantee us a happy ending. We’re not promised to be together no matter what. But in dimension after dimension, world after world, fate gives us a chance. Our destiny isn’t some kind of mystical prophecy. Our destiny is what we do with that chance.

I want you when it’s crazy, when it’s frightening, when it’s impossible, because there’s nothing within you that could hurt me half as much as not having you.

Morozova’s stag. Rusalye. The firebird. Legends come to life before my eyes, just to die in front of me.

Traveling through the worlds gives you perspective. It makes you value what you have.

Good luck, Oretsev. Find the firebird, and when this is over, I'll see you well rewarded. A farmhouse in Udova. A dacha near the city. Whatever you want." "I don't need any of that. Just..." He dropped Nikolai's hand and looked away. "Deserve her.

This, I think, is the boundary line of adulthood. Not the crap they claim it is- graduating from high school or losing your virginity or getting your first apartment or whatever. You cross the boundary the first time you're changed forever. You cross it the first time you know you can never go back.

Every moment, every day, we are all making something -- whether it's science or art, a relationship to a destiny -- building it choice by choice, moment by moment.

You wanted to wear the second amplifier. You have it. You want to go to Os Alta? Fine, we'll go. You say you need the firebird. I'll find a way to get it for you. But when all this is over, Alina, I wonder if you'll still want me.

But grief changes. It softens, adapts its shape to become a part of you. That kind of sorrow never gets any lighter, but you grow accustomed to the weight as you carry it on.

Now I know grief is a whetstone that sharpens all your love, all your happiest memories, into blades that tear you apart from within. Something has been torn out from inside me that will never be filled up, not ever, no matter how long I live. They say "time heals," but even now, less than a week after my father's death, I know that's a lie. What people really mean is that eventually you'll get used to the pain. You'll forget who you were without it; you'll forget what you looked like without your scars.

There is a strength within us that we can't even comprehend until it's called upon. We are, at our core, built to survive.

The memory stings -- and I hate that, I hate how all the good memories have turned into things that hurt -- but I need the pain.

And I love you. In any world, any universe.

Songs and movies tell us that when you meet the one you love, the planet stops spinning, the clouds open up, and your heart begins to sing. Reality is messier than that. The truth is, we meet new people all the time, but we can never tell exactly what they might mean to us. You never know who you’ll forget, or who you’ll need forever.

The multiverse is infinite. So, yeah, we go through some terrible things together, and I’ve seen versions of you who are darker, and damaged, and I don’t care. I want you even when you’re broken. I want you no matter what. Your darkness, your anger, whatever it is you fear inside yourself—it doesn’t matter. I love you completely, don’t you see? I even want the worst of you because it’s still a part of you.

- ... If he finds the firebird, we may just stand a chance. - And if he doesn't? - We put on our best clothes and die like heroes.

I realize that this is what being a parent means—facing the most horrible thing that could ever happen to you and yet thinking only of how it will hurt your child.

I told myself it didn’t matter if I never got to be with you. It was enough just to love you.

Every form of art is another way of seeing the world. Another perspective, another window.

She still had all of her marbles, though every one of them was a bit odd and rolled asymmetrically.

Ye'll learn more of a man if ye look at his face when he's looking at somebody else, than ye'll learn any other way, but,' he advised her, 'ye have to keep silent to do it

As Stephanie and Lula were going after the bad guys, Lula was making preparations from the trunk of her Firebird. Stephanie looked inside and stopped breathing for a beat. "That's a rocket launcher!" "Yep," Lula said. "It's a big boy. I got it at a yard sale in the projects.

That kind of sorrow never gets any lighter, but you grow accustomed to the weight as you carry it on.

Sometimes the memory of horror is worse than the horror itself.

Lecturing Brooks was as useful as lecturing a cat.

We are all the center of our own universe, and all of us in someone else's orbit. It's a paradox, but sometimes paradoxes are where the truth begins.

Sometimes I look at you, and I think—if I didn’t know we shared a destiny, if I hadn’t seen the proof for myself, I’d never believe this was real. That you could love me as much as I love you.

No, Alina. You came here for Ravka. For the firebird. To lead the Second Army.” He tapped the sun over his heart. “I came here for you. You’re my flag. You’re my nation. But that doesn’t seem to matter anymore.

Stop measuring yourself against us. It’s not the right scale. You have your own gifts, your own talents. Show the world everything you’re capable of, Marguerite. You don’t even see how amazing you are.

Apparently, when people travel between dimensions, their physical forms are "no longer observable," which is a quantum mechanics thing, and explaining it involves this whole story about a cat that's in a box and is simultaneously alive and dead until you open the box, and it gets seriously complicated. Never ask a physicist about that cat.

The universe is in fact a multiverse.

Nobody deserves a broken heart. Everybody deserves to be loved.

People can forgive anything except being proved wrong.

His gray eyes met mine. "It doesn't matter where I go. I'll still be yours.

All I need here is you

Himoto had once called war ninety percent boredom so extreme you'd do anything for relief and ten percent sheer, unrelenting terror.

Their intentions may be good, but their judgment isn’t.

Hiding the person you are,' he said, 'won't make you happy. I never hide who I am. What I am.

The strongest soldier cannot balance long upon the blade that does divide his honor and his heart, and whatever way he falls, the cut will kill him.

The truth is, we meet new people all the time, but we can never tell exactly what they might mean to us. You never know who you'll forget, or who you'll need forever.

But what you bring back with you in the end, he said, might not be what you started out in search of to begin with

You are not my Marguerite. And yet—you are. This essential thing you share—your soul—that is what I love.” Paul’s smile is sadder and more beautiful than I have ever seen before. “I would love you in any shape, in any world, with any past. Never doubt that.

When we're in pain, people are too quick to say, Get over it, move on, it's not that bad. But we don't get over grief by denying it. We have to feel it. We have to give it its due. Somethings that means doing the exact opposite of "moving on." We have to dive down to the very depths of our sorrow, relive every terrible moment, and endure the torture of asking what could have been - and what will now be. We have to bleed out before our hearts can start beating again.

He takes my hand and says, 'Let's make a world.

But we don't get over grief by denying it. We have to feel it. We have to give it its due.

The world becomes a wider place, with but a little learning.

Every single world we've visited isn't just random—it's the result of countless choices, all of them combining to create a new reality. You and I have been given an infinity of chances, and that's so much more than mot people will ever get—but in the end we get to live in only one world, and that's the world we make. I want us to create that world together.

The real problem has to do with the inability by people to admit that a position they've held a long time might be wrong. That's all. Not that it is. Just that it might be. I don't know why it is, but we tend to fall in love with things we believe, Threaten them, and you threaten us.

Mathematical parallels. It's plausible to hypothesize that these patterns will be reflected in events and people in each dimension. That people who have met in one quantum reality will be likely to meet in another. Certain things that happen will happen over and over, in different ways, but more often than you could explain by chance alone.

Sometimes paradoxes are where truth begins.

My hate is stronger than the dimensions, stronger than memory, stronger than time. My hate is now the truest part of who I am.

I'm going to appeal to his better nature," Graydon said. Solal sighed. "You mean you're going to threaten him." Graydon shrugged. Same difference.

Paul,” I murmur, “call me by my name.” “You know I cannot.” “Just once. Just once I want to hear you say my name.” Paul brings his face close to mine, so close we are nearly touching. “Marguerite.” And we are lost.

I was done with hesitation. It wasn't just that we'd run out of options, or that so much was riding on the firebird's power. I'd simply grown ruthless enough or selfish enough to take another creature's life. But I missed the girl who had shown the stag mercy, who had been strong enough to turn away from the lure of power, who had believed in something more. Another casualty of this war.

People tend to find their destiny, no matter what world they're in.

How do you grieve for another you?

My love of creativity is one of my constants, a pole star amid the many constellations of possibilities and personalities that make up all the people I could be.

No matter what happens, no matter what becomes of you, if you are here, I'll always be with you.

Please, I thought. Don't be fooled. Look inside my eyes and see the difference. It's our only chance. Please, Paul. Know me. And he did. He did.

In a dog's world, only three states existed: "now," "in a while," and "forever." If someone left, he was gone "forever," and when he returned they rejoiced as much as if he were back from the dead precisely because he'd been gone "forever.

Is he right, about my creating excitement where I can? Even being melodramatic? You went on a half-baked vengeance quest against Paul using a totally untested experimental device, I think. He might possibly have a point.

If your mother had any idea we were talking about this, she'd skin me alive. I'm not being metaphorical about that. I think she could actually, literally skin me. She gets these wild eyes sometimes. There's Cossack blood in her; I'd bet anything.

I meant that you shouldn’t feel ashamed of not knowing a subject. We can’t begin to learn until we admit how much we don’t know.

So while I dedicated this book to myself, it’s also dedicated to you. Male or female, young or old, if you’re reading this book, then you’re also that child reading by flashlight and dreaming of other worlds. Don’t be scared of her, that inner Beauty, or her dreams. Let her out. She’s you, and she’s me, and she’s magic. There’s no such thing as living happily ever after—there’s only living. We make the choice to do it happily. You are the Firebird. And above everything else, I’m most grateful for you.

Sometimes I feel like I've been waiting for someone to tell me when I can be normal again,' she said. 'I keep thinking I'll get a letter. Or a call. When does it happen?' Pete looked like he wanted to walk toward her, but then he fell back against the car. The staring contest between them for almost a minute, and finally Pete exhaled loudly. It's okay,' he said.

I’m forcing us both to confront the fact that one of our most beautiful dreams was a lie. We both believed in destiny as a kind of guarantee—a promise from the cosmos that we would have our time together in virtually every world we shared. But now I see that believing only in destiny means giving up responsibility. We fooled ourselves into thinking happiness was a gift we would be given time and time again. It’s so much scarier to admit that our lives are in our own flawed, fallible hands. Our futures are not kept safe for us in the cradle of fate. We have to hack them out of stone, dig them out of mud, and build them one messy, imperfect day at a time.

There are patterns within the dimensions,” Paul insisted, never looking up again. “Mathematical parallels. It’s plausible to hypothesize that these patterns will be reflected in events and people in each dimension. That people who have met in one quantum reality will be likely to meet in another. Certain things that happen will happen over and over, in different ways, but more often than you could explain by chance alone.” “In other words,” I said, “you’re trying to prove the existence of fate.” I was joking, but Paul nodded slowly, like I’d said something intelligent. “Yes. That’s it exactly.

If you know you're loved, deep down know it, something deep and precious inside you will always be safe. If you don't have that love - or don't know that you do - then you're vulnerable. Unshielded. Exposed to all the hardness and horror of the world.

When someone tells you who they are, believe them.” If a guy tells you, I have trouble trusting women, you don’t assume he’s just had bad experiences and you can fix things by being the nicest, best woman of all time. You go, Thanks for the warning. Good luck with that. Nice knowing you. Then you walk away without ever looking back. And if someone says they’re going to hurt you? Don’t stick around and wait for them to prove it.

I can tell he's kissing me this desperately because he thinks it might be the last time. The way I'm kissing him should tell him it's not. Not even close. Ten thousand skies, and a million worlds, and it still wouldn't be enough for me to share with you. Nothing less than forever will do.

I think you feel more deeply than most people ever do; you just don’t know how to show it. You always feel—out of step. You’re not like the people around you, and they know it as well as you do. And you think it’s because something’s wrong with you, so you retreat deeper into the background. That just means people don’t get to know the real you. You’re lonely. You’ve been lonely so long I think you’ve forgotten there’s any other way to be.

Bath," I said, relishing the short A of my new accent. "Baaaath. Privacy. Aluminum. Laboratory. Tomato. Schhhhhedule." The giggles come over me, and I stop right there, hand against my chest, trying to catch my breath. I know I'm laughing mostly because I refuse to give in and start crying. The grief for my father has nowhere to go and is twisting every other mood I have into knots. And... tomahhhhto. That's hilarious.

I love you." "And I love you. In any world, in any universe." His smile was crooked. "This world is enough." Then he became more serious. "Sometimes I look at you, and I think - if I didn't know we shared a destiny, if I hadn't seen the proof for myself, I'd never believe this was real. That you could love me as much as I love you.

I had always heard your entire life flashes in front of your eyes the second before you die. First of all, that one second isn't a second at all, it stretches on forever, like an ocean of time... For me, it was lying on my back at Boy Scout camp, watching falling stars... And yellow leaves, from the maple trees, that lined our street... Or my grandmother's hands, and the way her skin seemed like paper... And the first time I saw my cousin Tony's brand new Firebird... And Janie... And Janie... And... Carolyn. I guess I could be pretty pissed off about what happened to me... but it's hard to stay mad, when there's so much beauty in the world. Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much, my heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst... And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain and I can't feel anything but gratitude for every single moment of my stupid little life... You have no idea what I'm talking about, I'm sure. But don't worry... you will someday.

How do you know this story?" Yeva's breath caught. "Because it's my story too," she whispered. "Because I thought I wouldn't be happy until I left town to live in the wood, and then I thought I wouldn't be happy until I could hunt every day, and then I thought I wouldn't be happy until I avenged my father's death. Because I spent a year in an old castle with the young prince and the gray wolf and I thought I couldn't be happy until I killed them both, and when I did, I wept harder than I ever have in my life. Because I thought I couldn't be happy until I went home, and then I thought I couldn't be happy until I came back." "Because I thought the reason I'd always felt so restless was because I was meant for magic," Yeva said softly. "That if I could fix the story, that if I rescued the young prince and the gray wolf and I found the Firebird and I held in my hands everything I'd ever wanted, I would live happily ever after.

When you look out across the fields And you both see the same star Pitching its tent on the point of the steeple — That is the time to set out on your journey, With half a loaf and your mother’s blessing. Leave behind the places that you knew: All that you leave behind you will find once more, You will find it in the stories; The sleeping beauty in her high tower With her talking cat asleep Solid beside her feet — you will see her again. When the cat wakes up he will speak in Irish and Russian And every night he will tell you a different tale About the firebird that stole the golden apples, Gone every morning out of the emperor’s garden, And about the King of Ireland’s Son and the Enchanter’s Daughter. The story the cat does not know is the Book of Ruth And I have no time to tell you how she fared When she went out at night and she was afraid, In the beginning of the barley harvest, Or how she trusted to strangers and stood by her word: You will have to trust me, she lived happily ever after.

The idea of fairyland fascinates me because it's one of those things, like mermaids and dragons, that doesn't really exist, but everyone knows about it anyway. Fairyland lies only in the eye of the beholder who is usually a fabricator of fantasy. So what good is it, this enchanted, fickle land which in some tales bodes little good to humans and, in others, is the land of peace and perpetual summer where everyone longs to be? Perhaps it's just a glimpse of our deepest wishes and greatest fears, the farthest boundaries of our imaginations. We go there because we can; we come back because we must. What we see there becomes our tales.

You should really, like, dump her and date me instead,' May heard herself saying, all confidence. 'I'm not as irritating. I mean, I'm irritating, but I'm not as bad as she is. And you know me better. Wouldn't that be funny? I mean, we've already hooked up, so we're good.' We broke up,' Pete said quickly. His voice was so bright that May could hear the smile coming through. For a moment she was confused. Who, you and me?' No. Nell and i.' Oh . . .' The meter in her brain clicked once or twice, signaling May that she'd probably said enough. I have to go,' she said suddenly. 'Okay? I think that's great. Cool. Okay. Gotta go now. Hey, Pete, I love you!

When they separated, the freckleless spot between Pete's eyes was bright red. Before anything else could be said or done, May grabbed her bike and hopped on. She waited until she was six houses down to turn and see if he was still standing in the driveway watching her. He was. She stopped for just a moment, and they caught each other's eyes. Then he slowly started walking backward toward the house. May couldn't see that well, considering that her eyes were still a little blurry and he was far away, but it looked like he was smiling.