Legendary Caraval Quotes

Every good story needs a villain. But the best villains are the ones you secretly like.

Every story has four parts - the beginning, the middle, the almost ending, and the true ending.

Gold shimmered no matter what, but few people could make darkness glitter the way he did.

So,’ she said cautiously, 'is all this your way of telling me you’re the villain?’ His chuckle was dark. 'I’m definitely not the hero.’ 'I already knew that,’ Tella said. 'It’s my story, so clearly I’m the hero.

Not everyone gets a true ending. There are two types of endings because most people give up at the part of the story where things are the worst, where the situation feels hopeless. But that’s when hope is needed most. only those who persevere can find their true ending.

If you can convince yourself it's true, you can convince anyone.

Her heart was still a little heavy, but she'd decided carrying it around would only maker her stronger.

His mouth was crashing against hers. He tasted like exquisite nightmares and stolen dreams, like the wings of fallen angels, and bottles of fresh moonlight.

You're the starlight to his darkness, and if you feel the same about him, you should give him another chance.

Tella was the sister who would destroy the world if anything happened to Scarlett, but Scarlett’s world would be destroyed if anything happened to Tella.

Legends were supposed to be better than the truth.

This was why love was so dangerous. Love turn the whole world into a garden, so beguiling it was easy to forget that rose petals were as ephemeral as feelings, eventually they would wilt and die, leaving nothing but the thorns.

What's so dangerous about my arms?' he murmured. 'For me, everything.

Dante had wings. And, holy mother of saints, they were beautiful-soulless jet-black with midnight-blue veins, the color of lost wishes and fallen stardust.

She loved the feeling of doing something bold enough to make her future hold its breath while she closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation that she’d made a choice with the power to alter the course of her life.

There were shipwrecks more graceful than Tella.

The air tasted like wonder. Like candied butterfly wings caught in sugared spiderwebs, and drunken peaches coated in luck.

When she loved, she did it as fiercely as she lived.

It was the sort of kiss she could have lived in. The sort of kiss worth dying for.

Invite the lie to play until you become so comfortable with it that it feels like the truth.

There were many beautiful young men in the world, but Tella believed that none of them could be trusted with something as fragile, or valuable, as a heart.

He looked like a freshly woken storm, or a beautiful nightmare come to life so he could personally haunt her.

Saying something was for someone else’s own good was almost always another way of justifying something wrong.

She tried to smile then. She was finally the hero. All it had cost her was everything.

...most people give up at the part of the story where things are the worst, where the situation feels hopeless. But that's when hope is needed most.

...judging her based on a moment like that is the same as reading one page from a book and assuming you know the whole story.

The Prince of Hearts. A symbol of unrequited love and irrevocable mistakes that never ceased to fill Tella with both dread and morbid bewitchment.

The air was full of salt and secrets.

For it was also said the Prince Of Hearts was not capable of love because his heart had stopped beating long ago. Only one person could make it beat again: his one true love. They said his kiss had been fatal to all but her - his only weakness - and as he’d sought her, he’d let a trail of corpses.

What have I always told you about the future?" "Every person has the power to write her own.

When you truly care about someone, aren't you supposed to be honest, even if it means you might lose that person?

Fate is only an idea, but I think by believing in it we turn it into something more.

Neat rooms were easy to rifle through and search undetected because it was simple to put carefully placed things exactly where they'd been. But messes, on the other hand, were difficult to recreate.

Why aren’t you dressed like a leopard with butterfly wings, or a unicorn?” A sliver of a grin. “Not even Legend could make me dress like a unicorn.” “But unicorns are magical, and then all the ladies would want to pet you.

Arrogant. Overconfident. Vain. Impossible. She hated the way he refused to leave her alone, how he took her insults the same way other boys might take a compliment, and that his interest in her was clearly only part of his role. And yet she could never seem to push him away.

Scar, I don't know what you're thinking, but I swear there is nothing going on between Dante and me. You know how I feel about boys who are prettier than me.

I kept coming back to you, not because of Legend, or the game. But because you’re so real and alive and fearless and daring and beautiful and if what’s between us isn’t real, then I don’t know what is.

If you think I’m nice, you really need to spend time with better people

If Legend wants something, he’ll go beyond the ends of this earth for it.

If she were Scarlett, someone would have come to her rescue by now. Julian would have probably flown in on a hot-air balloon, and then sprouted wings to soar down and carry her away. Unfortunately Tella wasn't the sort of girl people saved - she was the one they left behind....But she was also the sort they underestimated.

Your future can be whatever you wish. We all have the power to choose our own destiny.

Fate had already decided no one she loved would ever love her back.

Every story needs a villain, but the best villains are the ones you secretly like.

Nothing about him was soft. His chest felt like a block of marble and yet she could have closed her eyes, curled up against him, and gone to sleep forever.

Don't be like me and settle for the ease of an almost-ending, when you could have the true ending.

She liked the thrill that came with taking risks. She loved the feeling of doing something bold enough to make her future hold its breath

she was beginning to understand how hearts could be slowly given away, without a person even realizing.

He tasted like exquisite nightmares and stolen dreams, like the wings of fallen angels and bottles of fresh moonlight.

For centuries the Fates were locked away, but now they wish to come out and play. If they regain their magic the world will never be the same, but you can help stop them by winning the game

The very thing he'd done to keep her was the very thing that had broken them apart.

I'm just not fond of cages,' she said, 'and this place looks like one giant dungeon.

You have it all wrong.” Dante stole the cord's other end. “We're going to have to remove the rope and retie it.” Tella snatched both ends back and took a wobbly step away. “You can't take apart my dress on these stairs.” “Does that mean I can take it apart somewhere else?” His low voice oozed dark promises.

Tella claimed she didn’t want love—she liked to say love trapped and controlled and ripped hearts apart. But the truth was she also knew love healed and held people together, and deep down she wanted it more than anything. She enjoyed the kisses, but a part of her always wished that whenever she walked away from a boy he’d run after her, beg her to stay, and then promise he’d never leave.

Every good story needs a villain. But the best villains are the ones you secretly like.

People tossed around the word sorry far too easily, as if it were worth even less than the promise of a copper.

What makes something real Tella?' Dante hooked a finger into the rope around her waist. 'Does seeing something make it real?' He tugged on the rope and pulled her closer, until all she could see was his face. 'Or does hearing something make it real?' His voice turned a little rough. 'What about feeling something, is that enough to make it real?

As fantastical as Caraval might feel, the next five nights are very real.

Humans were selfish creatures. The stars witnessed it again, and again, and again. But tonight, as stars peered down on the world, they saw what seemed to be truly unselfish acts.

Love turned the world into a garden, so beguiling it was easy to forget that rose petals were as ephemeral as feelings, eventually they would wilt and die, leaving nothing but the thorns.

His voice was soothing ans commanding all at once, like the crackle of flames devouring wood. Fierce and fatal, yet somehow steady and reassuring. The type of voice a girl could have been easily consumed by.

But for all its sparkle, once Tella looked closer she thought it seemed more like glitter pretending to be stardust.

I know you were willing to sacrifice yourself for her, but I wasn't willing to sacrifice you.

Caraval is a world built of make-believe, and sometimes it's difficult for those of us who always live inside it to feel as if anything is real. Most of us won't admit it, but we all crave the real.

I don't believe it's as hopeless as it seems.

stories were merely fables to illustrate the dangers of falling in love.

It made her wonder if jewels hidden away safely in boxes sometimes longed to be stolen by thieves—because now he was definitely stealing her heart, and she wanted him to take even more.

I used to fear I wouldn't come back, until I learned that it's the fear that feeds him. It's the same way hopes and dreams give Legend so much power during Caraval.

. . . his heart stopped beating long ago. Only one person could make it beat again: his one true love. They said his kiss had been fatal to all but her - his only weakness.

Are you sure? For a moment you stopped breathing. Or do I just have that affect on you?

Fortune-tellers aren't like you and me. They see the world as it could be, and sometimes they try to bring about what they want, rather than what should be.

He wasn't afraid. He was something far worse. He was hopeful that she would choose him.

Tella often imagined she knew what people thought when they saw her. One look at her honey-blond curls, her girlish smile, and her pretty dresses, coupled with the fact that she liked to enjoy herself, and people dismissed her as a silly girl. Tella might have been many things, but she was far from silly or worthless or whatever labels people liked to affix because a person was young and female. Tella liked to think that was where much of her strength came from. She was bold. She was brave. She was cunning. And she was going to come out of this triumphant—no matter the cost.

Careful, pet. You might be one of the empress’s guests, but many in her court are not as forgiving as I am. And I’m not forgiving at all.

You wouldn't be human if you didn't cry.

Julian had a voice meant for casting spells. But tonight he'd have broken them instead. He sounded like salt without the sea. Rough, alone, and lost.

Think whatever you want, but if you honestly believe that's the only reason I'm here with my hands all over you, you're not nearly as clever as I thought.

Dante ran his tongue over his lips, like a tiger that had just bested a kitten.

Weren’t you the one who said you see girls the same way we see party dresses, only to be used once?” “Clearly I view you a little differently.” He reached for one of her errant curls and wound it around one tattooed finger, the black rose on the back of his hand spinning until it turned red beneath the ruby starlight. With every turn he drew her closer. He made it easy to ignore her achy legs and her dying heart. He twisted the hair around his finger in the same way she imagined he wanted to wrap her around his finger. As if she would ever let him.

You're the most beautiful liar I've ever seen.

And what do people say? Tella asked. Just that he murdered his last fiancee. But they also say he's very handsome, she tacked on, as if that made up for murder.

She used to think it was ridiculous, the idea that a girl would give her heart to a boy even though she knew it would also give him the power to destroy her.

In the fairy tales, sixteen was always the age when girls either learned they had magical powers, were truly princesses in disguise, or were cursed and needed a handsome prince to help them break the dark enchantment.

I know Caraval can be magical and romantic and wonderful, but the spells it casts aren’t easily shaken off, and half the time I don’t even think people realise they have been bewitched.

Not quite sure how far she'd already fallen, she imagined loving him would feel like falling in love with darkness, frightening and consuming yet utterly beautiful when the stars came out.

Your future can be whatever you wish. We all have the power to choose our own destiny. But, my sweet, if you play with those cards, you give the Fates pictured inside them the opportunity to shift your path. People use Decks of Destiny, similar to the one you just touched, to predict the future, and once a future is foretold, that future becomes a living thing, and it will fight very hard to bring itself about.

She liked the thrill that came with taking risks. She loved the feeling of doing something bold enough to make her future hold its breath while she closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation that she’d made a choice with the power to alter the course of her life.

Our memories weigh us down more than we realize.

She enjoyed the kisses, but a part of her always wished that whenever she walked away from a boy he’d run after her, beg her to stay, and then promise he’d never leave.

Paradise was afraid of love because when she loved, she did it as fiercely as she lived.

The stars were spectacularly fiery that night,

But Tella wanted love about as much as she wished to contract a disease. There were no kisses worth dying for. No souls worth merging with. There were many beautiful young men in the world, but Tella believed that none of them could be trusted with something as fragile, or valuable, as a heart.

The first time I kissed you I did it because I'd just died and come back to life, but I wasn't feeling alive. I needed something real. But tonight I kissed you because I wanted you. I haven't stopped wanting you since the night of the Fated Ball when you were willing to risk your life because you wanted to make me angry. After that, I couldn't stay away.

As beguiling as the church of Legend was, Tella imagined it had Legend all wrong. Caraval might have been extreme in all of its splendor, but she didn't think he was.

Think whatever’s you want, but if you honestly believe that’s the only reason I’m here right now with my hands all over you, you’re not nearly as clever as I thought.

I made your heart beat. I'm your one true love. Your kiss can't kill me.

Death visited Tella while she slept. The tips of his claws stroked the back of her neck, while his shadow followed her into pristine dreams, poisoning all the colors until everything tasted of dust and withered to ash.

Not everyone gets a true ending. There are two types of endings because most people give up at the part of the story where things are the worst, where the situation feels hopeless. But that's when hope is needed most. Only those who persevere can find their true ending.

Tella had exchanged things with other young men, but never hearts, and though she still had no plans to relinquish that part of her to Dante, she was beginning to understand how hearts could be slowly given away, without a person even realizing. How sometimes just a look, or a rare moment of vulnerability like the one Dante had just shared with her, was enough to steal a fraction of a heart.

Originally printed in Valenda, capital city of the Meridian Empire, during the Second Year of the Scarlett Dynasty, by Legendary Publications. If you are a curmudgeon or have any sensitivities to merriment, fantasy, romance, dreams, and holiday magic, you may wish to put this book down immediately. This story has been known to infect readers with holiday spirit and dreams of being swept away. Some readers have even been known to break into song or spontaneously start baking holiday cookies. This book may be purchased, gifted, or borrowed, but under no circumstances should copies of this story be transported to the Magnificent North. The magic of this book does not mix well with the cursed story magic of the Magnificent North, and if the two are combined, Legendary Publications is not responsible for what will happen.

This was why love was so dangerous. Love turned the world into a garden, so beguiling it was easy to forget that rose petals sails appeared charmed. They blazed red in the day and silver at night, like a magician’s cloak, hinting at mysteries concealed beneath, which Tella planned to uncover that night. Drunken laughter floated above her as Tella delved deeper into the ship’s underbelly in search of Nigel the Fortune-teller. Her first evening on the vessel she’d made the mistake of sleeping, not realizing until the following day that Legend’s performers had switched their waking hours to prepare for the next Caraval. They slumbered in the day and woke after sunset. All Tella had learned her first day aboard La Esmeralda was that Nigel was on the ship, but she had yet to actually see him. The creaking halls beneath decks were like the bridges of Caraval, leading different places at different hours and making it difficult to know who stayed in which room. Tella wondered if Legend had designed it that way, or if it was just the unpredictable nature of magic. She imagined Legend in his top hat, laughing at the question and at the idea that magic had more control than he did. For many, Legend was the definition of magic. When she had first arrived on Isla de los Sueños, Tella suspected everyone could be Legend. Julian had so many secrets that she’d questioned if Legend’s identity was one of them, up until he’d briefly died. Caspar, with his sparkling eyes and rich laugh, had played the role of Legend in the last game, and at times he’d been so convincing Tella wondered if he was actually acting. At first sight, Dante, who was almost too beautiful to be real, looked like the Legend she’d always imagined. Tella could picture Dante’s wide shoulders filling out a black tailcoat while a velvet top hat shadowed his head. But the more Tella thought about Legend, the more she wondered if he even ever wore a top hat. If maybe the symbol was another thing to throw people off. Perhaps Legend was more magic than man and Tella had never met him in the flesh at all. The boat rocked and an actual laugh pierced the quiet. Tella froze. The laughter ceased but the air in the thin corridor shifted. What had smelled of salt and wood and damp turned thick and velvet-sweet. The scent of roses. Tella’s skin prickled; gooseflesh rose on her bare arms. At her feet a puddle of petals formed a seductive trail of red. Tella might not have known Legend’s true name, but she knew he favored red and roses and games. Was this his way of toying with her? Did he know what she was up to? The bumps on her arms crawled up to her neck and into her scalp as her newest pair of slippers crushed the tender petals. If Legend knew what she was after, Tella couldn’t imagine he would guide her in the correct direction, and yet the trail of petals was too tempting to avoid. They led to a door that glowed copper around the edges. She turned the knob. And her world transformed into a garden, a paradise made of blossoming flowers and bewitching romance. The walls were formed of moonlight. The ceiling was made of roses that dripped down toward the table in the center of the room, covered with plates of cakes and candlelight and sparkling honey wine. But none of it was for Tella. It was all for Scarlett. Tella had stumbled into her sister’s love story and it was so romantic it was painful to watch. Scarlett stood across the chamber. Her full ruby gown bloomed brighter than any flowers, and her glowing skin rivaled the moon as she gazed up at Julian. They touched nothing except each other. While Scarlett pressed her lips to Julian’s, his arms wrapped around her as if he’d found the one thing he never wanted to let go of. This was why love was so dangerous. Love turned the world into a garden, so beguiling it was easy to forget that rose petals were as ephemeral as feelings, eventually they would wilt and die, leaving nothing but the thorns.