Heartless Marissa Meyer Quotes

But hoping," he said, "is how the impossible can be possible after all.

It is a dangerous thing to unbelieve something only because it frightens you.

The easiest way to steal something, is for it to be given willingly.

A heart, once stolen, can never be taken back.

Sometimes your heart is the only thing worth listening to.

One to be a murderer. One to be a Martyr. One to be a Monarch. One to go Mad

When pleased, I beat like a drum. When sad, I break like glass. Once stolen, I can never be taken back. What am I?

Fascinating, isn't it, how often heroic and foolish turn out to be one and the same.

Over everything, I choose you

To be all right implies an impossible phase. We hope for mostly right on the best of our days.

Impossible is my specialty.

You have my heart, Jest. I don't know if you deserve it or not. I can't tell if you're a hero or a villain, but it doesn't seem to matter. Either way, my heart is yours.

Perhaps we know each other in the future and you’re only remembering backward.

Is this what’s going to make you happy?’ ‘How different everything could have been, if you had thought to ask me that before.

Her mother sneered. “Then you are a fool.” “Good. I’ve become rather fond of fools.

Why is a raven like a writing-desk?

Stuff and nonsense. Nonsense and stuff and much of a muchness and nonsense all over again. We are all mad here, don't you know?

Now mine eyes see the heart that once we did search for, and I fear this heart shall be mended, nevermore.

These things do not happen in dreams, dear girl,' he said, vanishing up to his neck. 'They happen only in nightmares.' His head spiralled and he was gone.

Off with his head

For the murder of Jest, the court joker of Hearts, I sentence this man to death.’ She spoke without feeling, unburdened by love or dreams or the pain of a broken heart. It was a new day in Hearts, and she was the Queen. ‘Off with his head

Oh no,” she murmured, her smile thawing, falling, carried away with the undeniable, inevitable, impossible truth of it. She was falling in love with him.

Are you here for a reason, Cheshire? Why, yes, I would enjoy a cup of tea. I take mine with lots of cream, and no tea. Thank you.

We will all greet fate, on the other side.

Her rage split her open.

Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater, Had a wife but couldn’t keep her; He put her in a pumpkin shell And there he kept her very well. Peter, Peter, pumpkin eater, Had a pet and couldn’t feed her; Caught a maid who had meant well –What became of her, no one can tell

Mind my words, Cheshire, I will have you banished from this kingdom if you tempt me." "An empty threat from an empty girl." She rounded on him, teeth flashing. "I am not empty. I am full to the brim with murder and revenge. I am overflowing and I do not think you wish for me to overflow on to you." "There was a time" – Cheshire yawned – "when you overflowed with whimsy and icing sugar. I liked that Catherine better.

You know as well as I that you're going to break at least one heart before this is over, and I want nothing more to do with you.

She is a rose, Jest. Lovely on the eyes, yes, but such thorns are not to be ignored.

One to be a murderer, the other to be martyred, One to be a monarch, the other to go mad.

You want to hear a riddle, you say? I know a very good one. It begins, why is a raven like a writing desk?’ She lifted her chin. ‘Have you gone mad, Hatta? I can’t seem to tell.’ ‘They are both so full of poetry, you see. Darkness and whimsy, nightmares and song.

As it so happens, Mr. Jest, I’ve sometimes come to believe as many as six impossible things before breakfast…

This was why she enjoyed baking. A good dessert could make her feel like she'd created joy at the tips of her fingers. Suddenly, the people around the table were no longer strangers. They were friends and confidantes, and she was sharing with them her magic.

Some say it is better to have eaten and lost than never to have eaten at all.

Something about him seemed crafted for her, and that thought made her face flame, like she was standing too close to a fire.

Everyone always underestimates the idiot.

You aren’t only talented, but . . . do you know, you’re extra beautiful when you talk about baking. You know you’re good at it, and that knowledge lights you up.

Why is a raven like a writing desk? They are both so full of poetry, you see. Darkness and whimsy, nightmares and song.

And the moral of that is "Once a goldfish, forever a goldfish.

Timid or arrogant, Charming or infuriating, and Catherine was falling, falling, falling.

He came here meaning to take your heart, but it was clear from the night he brought you to the tea party that he was going to lose his, instead.

It was difficult to be polite when you wanted to run away.

I am not empty. I am full to the brim with murder and revenge. I am overlfowing and I do not think you wish for me to overflow onto you.

I cannot tell you how I look forward to a lifetime at your side, and all th and impossible things I’ll have you believing in.

Thank you,” she murmured, hoping he knew it wasn’t just for helping her up the tree and through the window. Hoping he knew it was for everything. The thrills, the laughs, the secrets he’d shared.

Sweets and Tarts: The Most Wonderous Bakery in All of Hearts

Always check your hats be- fore donning them. You never know what might be lurking inside.

Why is a raven like a writing desk? Because they both have quills dipped in ink.

Right is always right. Except when left is right, naturally.

Even the blackest heart once beat red.

He may be the one dressed like a fool, but it seemed the title was reserved for her.

It is much wiser to let your inner beauty shine through a drab gown than to attempt to conceal it with physical accoutrements.

Cath lifted her chin and, for the first time, dared to imagine herself a queen.

What are you doing here?” she whispered. “You’re…” He grinned. “A wanted man?” She ducked beneath the raised hands of the next couple. Rotated back. Curtsied. “Exactly,” she said as her palm found Jest’s again. “Good,” he said, his dimples showing, “I hoped you might still feel that way.

Fair evening, Lady Pinkerton. I hope you enjoy satisfyingly deep breaths during your ride home." Part mortified, part despicably impressed, Catherine marched up the last step and slammed the carriage door shut.

You must think I’m a fool to even consider rejecting him.’ ‘My lady, I am a professional fool. I can say with certainty that you do not have the makings of one.’ She smirked. ‘Then that’s a relief.’ ‘Is it? Have you something against fools?’ ‘Not at all. Only, if I were as natural at foolishness as I am at poetry, I might try to take your position from you, and you seem so very well suited to it.

His eyes were the colour of gold, of sunflowers and butterscotch and lemons hanging heavy on their boughs - Jest

Cath wondered if that youthful face had ever seen a true smile.

I've become rather fond of fools.

Your future is written on stone, but not in it.

Is that . . . has it all been for that? The tea party, the letters, what you said at the festival . . . all of it, no more than an attempt to steal my heart so you could take it back to your queen?’ ‘The easiest way to steal something,’ Jest murmured, ‘is for it to be given willingly.

My heart is not a game piece, to be played and discarded at will.

A beating heart was skewered on its tip. It was broken, cut almost clean in half by a blackened fissure that was filled with dust and ash.

We are all mad here, don’t you know?

...she's the jammiest bit of jam, isn't she

I rather enjoy nonsense.

She spoke without feeling, unburdened by love or dreams or the pain of a broken heart. It was a new day in Hearts, and she was the Queen.

That would imply we give our hearts away willingly, and I am not sure that is the case.

Besides, if you ever did eat some bad food, I could still find a use for you. I've always wanted a cat-drawn carriage." Cheshire opened one eye, his pupil slitted and unamused. "I would dangle balls of yarn and fish bones out in front to keep you moving." He stopped purring long enough to say, "You are not as cute as you think you are, Lady Pinkerton.

Hello again,’ she said, shivering in the night air.‘Good eve, fair lady, your forgiveness we implore, to come so brashly tapping, tapping at your chamber door.’‘Oh, well, this isn’t exactly my chamber door. More like a window, actually.’The Raven bobbed his head. ‘I made some alterations for the sake of the rhyme.’‘I see. Well – good evening, fair Raven, my forgiveness I bestow, for this uncanny meeting outside of my window.’A boisterous laugh startled Catherine, sending her heart into her throat.

Off with its head,” she whispered to herself,

But what I was really thinking was that you talk about him like...like you talk about a piece of decadent chocolate cake.

These things do not happen in dreams, dear girl," he said vanishing up to his neck. "They happen only in nightmares.

Of course, ignoble idiocy seems to be an epidemic around these parts." Cheshire began to fade away. "So he shall not be alone.

We can’t choose where our affections lie.

Maybe there is no amount of magic that could ever make this a possibility,’ she whispered against his jaw. He was trembling, but so slightly she could only tell when she stood so close. ‘If I am not to have happiness, let me at least have a purpose. Let me give you the heart of a queen.

Catherine," said the Marquess, placing one hand on Cath’s shoulder and one on his wife’s. "We know you’ve been through some . . . difficult things recently." Anger, hot and throbbing, blurred in her vision. "But we want you to be sure . . . absolutely sure this is what you want." His eyes turned wary beneath his bushy eyebrows. "We want you to be happy. That’s all we’ve ever wanted. Is this what’s going to make you happy?" Cath held his gaze, feeling the puncture of Raven’s talons on her shoulder, the weight of the rubies around her throat, the itch of her petticoat on her thighs. "How different everything could have been," she said, "if you had thought to ask me that before." She shrugged his arm away and pushed between them. She didn’t look back.

A laugh like that is richer than gold to a man of my profession. I'll make it my life's work to hear the sound again.

Besides,” Hatta said, tossing the shredded paper back at her. It wisped and fluttered and clung to the fabric of her gown. “I have a personal rule about not entering into business with spineless creatures. No snakes. No slippery eels. And worst of all, no fickle women.

I pictured to myself the Queen of Hearts as a sort of embodiment of ungovernable passion— a blind and aimless Fury. —LEWIS CARROLL

She stole glimpses of him again and again, like gathering unsatisfying crumbs in hopes they could be re-formed into a cake. When

Anything is possible when you know the way through the Looking Glass!

Someone has to do something,” she repeated, though most of her fire had turned to smoke. “Yes, and that something shall be to ignore such a horrible incident and go on pretending nothing has happened at all.” Cheshire licked his paw and dragged it along his whiskers. “As is our way.” Cath

A happy king makes for a happy kingdom.

We are a parliament of idiots. A murder of fools." "No," said Jest, his voice soft. "That would be an unkindness.

Wishes have value, Lady Pinkerton. You have my gratitude.

By-the-bye

You do know that telling a secret destroys its secrecy, don't you?

Was he mad already? She couldn’t help inspecting him, newly speculative and curious. He didn’t seem mad. No more mad than anyone else she knew. No more mad than she was herself. They were are all a little mad, if one was to be forthright.

I do not want his generosity, or his kindness, or any other favors!” Her mother sneered. “Then you are a fool.” “Good. I’ve become rather fond of fools.

everyone would be willing to pretend it away rather than upset their pleasant lives.

You're extra beautiful when you talk about baking. You know you're good at it, and that knowledge lights you up.

The courtship period is the foundation upon which a happy marriage will stand, and should not be hurried by any devoted lover – not even a king.

She knew, in that moment, that she would go to him, if only he asked. She would be his, if he wanted her. "Oh no," she murmured, her smile thawing, falling, carried away with the undeniable, inevitable, impossible truth of it. She was falling in love with him.

She could be his reason to stay in Hearts. She wanted to be.

Are you a doctor?’ she asked. He looked up at her and smiled that disarming smile again. ‘I’m a joker, my lady, which is even better.’ ‘How is that better than a doctor?’ ‘Haven’t you ever heard that laughter is the best medicine?

Don’t you understand? My role has been compromised since that first night in the gardens. I don’t want you to marry the King. And even if I could still somehow claim your heart, even after telling you how cruel and unfair I’ve treated you, I wouldn’t be able to give it to the White Queen. Catherine, I don’t want your heart to belong to anyone but me.

We are all mad here, don’t you know? And it runs in my family, it’s a part of my blood and he’s here, Time has finally found me and I _ ‘ His voice shredded. His eyes burned. ‘I haven’t the slightest idea, your Queenness. I find that I simply cannot recall why a raven is like a writing desk.

He truly cares for you. I think he honestly means to make you happy." She expected him to go on. but silence fell. and that seemed to be all he meant to say. "Are you telling me to accept him?" "No," he stammered. "I'm saying that if you did accept him, I would understand. I would be happy for you." She clenched her fists. "How comforting that at least one of us would be.

She raised the dagger and plunged it into Cath’s chest. Catherine gasped, and though there were screams in the courtroom, she barely heard them over the cackle of the Three Sisters. Cold seeped into her from the blade, colder than anything she had ever known. It leached into her veins, crackling like winter ice on a frozen lake. It was so cold it burned. Lacie pulled out the blade. A beating heart was skewered on its tip. It was broken, cut almost clean in half by a blackened fissure that was filled with dust and ash. “It has been bought and paid for,” said the Sister. Then she yipped and launched herself back to the courtroom floor. She was joined by her sisters, cackling and crowding around the Queen’s heart. A moment later, a Fox, a Raccoon, and an Owl were skittering out the door, leaving behind the echo of victorious laughter. CHAPTER 54 CATH STARED AT THE DOORS still thrust wide open, her body both frozen and burning, her chest a hollow cavity. Empty and numb. She no longer hurt. That broken heart had been killing her, and it was gone. Her sorrow. Her loss. Her pain, all gone. All that was left was the rage and the fury and the desperate need for vengeance that would soon, soon be hers.