Maven Quotes

Mare?" "Are you afraid, Maven?" "I am. I'm afraid of failing. I'm afraid of letting this opportunity pass us by. And I'm afraid of what happens if nothing in this world ever changes. That scares me more than dying.

Don’t lie to a liar, and Maven is the grandest liar of all.

Fire and lightning raised Maven up, and fire and lightning will bring him down.

Cal is built from his father’s dreams, and Maven from his mother’s nightmares.

I thought I knew what heartbreak was. I thought that was what Maven did to me. When he stood and left me kneeling. When he told me everything I ever thought him to be was a lie. But then, I believed I loved him. I know now, I didn't know what love was. Or what even the echo of heartbreak felt like. To stand in front of a person who is your whole world and be told you are not enough. You are not the choice. You are a shadow to the person who is your sun.

Our paths may be horrible, but they're the paths we made for ourselves.

And his eyes are worst of all. Her eyes, Elara's eyes. Once I thought them cold, made of living ice. Now I know better. The hottest fires burn blue, and his eyes are no exception.

Maven lies as easily as he breathes, and his mother holds his leash but not his heart.

I love your brother, Maven. You were right. You are only a shadow, and who looks at shadows when they have flame? Who would ever choose a monster over a god?

I could set this world on fire and call it rain"- Maven

I can't let the mistakes I've made bury me.

Do. You. Still. Love. Me?” I enunciate every word and lean right into his space just to prove that I’m not intimidated by him. He cups the back of my neck and pulls me within inches of his face—close enough to kiss. “I could reach the rank of Maven, lead armies of dark wielders against everyone we care for, and watch every vein in my body turn red as I channel all the power in the Continent, and I would still love you. What I did doesn’t change that. I’m not sure anything can.

Not all crowns are worn where people can see.

Maven Calore is not his own self. He told me as much. He is a construct, a creation of his mother's additions and subtractions. A mechanical, a machine, soulless and lost. What a horror, to know that someone like this holds our fates in the palm of his quivering hand.

In the palace, during my imprisonment, I learned that Maven had been made by his mother, formed into the monster he became. There is nothing on earth that can change him or what she did. But Cal was made too. All of us were made by someone else, and all of us have some thread of steel that nothing and no one can cut.

Maven stares after his fleeing brother. “He does not like to lose. And”—he lowers his voice, now so close to me I can see the tiny flecks of silver in his eyes—“neither do I. I won’t lose you, Mare. I won’t.” "You'll never lose me.

I ache for my ability the way I ache for Mare, for Thomas, for who I was supposed to be.

I have no illusions where Maven is concerned. I know his twisted heart, and that it feels something for me. Something he wants to get rid of, but can never part with.

I was never yours, and you were never mine, Maven. And not because of him, either. I thought you were perfect, I thought you were strong and brave and good. I thought you were better than him." Better than Cal. Those are words Maven thought no one would ever say. He flinches, and for a second, I can see the boy I used to know. A boy that doesn't exist anymore.

You could have been my red queen.

Cal and Maven are deadly creatures, soldiers. But their battle isn't just on the lines. It's here, in a palace, on the broadcasts, in the heart of every person they rule. They will rule, not just by right of a crown, but by might. Strength and power. It's all the Silvers respect, and it's all it takes to keep the rest of us slaves.

I still had sting my eyes, prickling at Maven’s memory. It’s hard to forget him as he was. No. As he pretended to be. The kind, forgotten boy. The shadow of the flame.

Cal stares at the floor, silent for a long, stoic moment. "I never thought Maven would do that to her," he mutters finally. "She probably didn't either." Then you're both stupid, my brain screams. How many times doe one wicked boy have to betray you people before you learn?

And somehow everyone calls me a monster.

I am well accustomed to darkness by now. What's a few more miles? Nothing at all. I've always felt darkness all over me, stubborn as a stain. It follows wherever I go.

She wasn’t enough for me either. Enough to make me change, to pull me back from what I’ve willingly become. I wonder if Thomas would have been enough.

Those who know what it's like in the dark will do anything to stay in the light

Cal's touch has not erased Maven's. My memories are still there, still just as painful as they were yesterday. And as much as I try, I have not forgotten the canyon that will always stretch between us. No kind of love can erase his faults, just like none can erase mine.

Come forward, Mare." That is Maven's voice. Not Maven, but Maven. The boy I thought I knew. Gentle, tender. He keeps that voice stored away, ready to be used against me like a sword. It strikes me to my core, as he knows it will. In spite of myself, I feel the familiar longing for a boy who does not exist.

I am the king and you could've been my Red Queen. Now you are nothing.

Maven is dead.

Yesterday he was a prince; today he is king. I thought he was my friend, my bethrothed, but now I know better.

I’m not leaving this place unless I leave behind his corpse—or mine.

You better hide that heart of yours. It won't lead you anywhere you want to go.

I live in a shrinking world where the only thing I can trust is Maven's obsession. Like the manacles, it is a shield and a slow, smothering death.

His expression is unreadable, but his meaning is clear. With one hand, he points at his feet. His fingers are whiter than I remember. I do as he says. I kneel.

When people are overwhelmed with information and develop immunity to traditional forms of communication, they turn instead for advice and information to the people in their lives whom they respect, admire, and trust. The cure for immunity is finding Mavens, Connectors, and Salesmen.

It sets something off in Maven. He jumps out of reach, keeping his distance from all of us. The twitching returns in force, but his eyes blaze, all fire. No fear. "You think I can't lie through pain," he snarls, his voice thundering through the room. "You think I haven't done it a thousand times?" ... For a brief, empty moment I see nothing but darkness, and I try not to think of Maven. His words. What his life was and continues to be.

I can't help but remember that my lips, now smiling for Maven, were kissing his brother last night.

M for Maven. M for mine. M for monster.

The hottest fires burn blue, and his eyes are no exception

He cups the back of my neck and pulls me within inches of his face—close enough to kiss. “I could reach the rank of Maven, lead armies of dark wielders against everyone we care for, and watch every vein in my body turn red as I channel all the power in the Continent, and I would still love you. What I did doesn’t change that. I’m not sure anything can.

It would hurt him deeply, wound him forever, if I let him glimpse what little is left of me. That I'm still here, in some forgotten corner, just waiting to be found. I could ruin him in one glance, one echo of the brother he remembers. Or I could free him of me. Make the choice for him. Give my brother one last proof of the love I can no longer feel, even if he knows it.

Maven is a talented liar, and I don't trust a single word he speaks. Even if he was telling the truth. Even if he is a product of his mother's meddling, a thorned flower forced to grow a certain way. That doesn't change things. I can't forget everything he's done to me and so many others. When I first met him, I was seduced by his pain. He was the boy in shadow, a forgotten son. I saw myself in him. Second always to Gisa, the bright star in my parents' world. I know now that was by design. He caught me back then, ensnaring me in a prince's trap. Now I'm in a king's cage. But so is he. My chains are Silent Stone. His is the crown.

For all his clever ideas, Maven has nothing to say to this. He just stares, his breath coming in tiny, scared puffs. I know the look on his face; I wear it every time I’m forced to say good-bye to someone. “It’s too bad we didn’t stay longer,” I murmur, looking out at the river. “I would have liked to die close to home.” Another breeze sends a curtain of my hair across my face but Maven brushes it away and pulls me close with startling ferocity. Oh. His kiss is not at all like his brother’s. Maven is more desperate, surprising himself as much as me. He knows I’m sinking fast, a stone dropping through the river. And he wants to drown with me. “I will fix this,” he murmurs against my lips. I have never seen his eyes so bright and sharp. “I won’t let them hurt you. You have my word.

The social media maven spends his or her time creating a self-caricature, a much happier and more photogenic version of real life. People subtly start comparing themselves to other people’s highlight reels,

This was Maven's doing. This was the shadow controlling the flame.

My heart leaps in my chest when her feet slide. Moving sideways. Not closer, not farther. Now it's her turn to prowl. Even though she's only walking, it feels like a dance. I mirror her movements, stepping with her. She's more graceful than I am, a lithe thief born of many years and many twists of fate. ... The sparks reflect in her eyes. They shudder from brown to purple, giving her an unearthly look, like her gaze might run me through. Part of me wishes she would.

I hope Maven will see what we are, what we can do, and know he cannot win. Even he is not a fool. Even he knows when he is beaten. At least, I hope he does. Because as far as I can tell, Maven has never been defeated. Not when it really counts. Cal won their father, his soldiers, but Maven won the crown. Maven won every battle that truly mattered. And given time... he would’ve won me too.

Anyone can betray anyone!

Maven has miscalculated. He believes enough corpses will make me come back. But I will not.

Wish him a happy birthday for me. And assure him it will be his last. But yours is coming, isn’t it? I don’t doubt we’ll spend it together. Until we meet again, Maven

But Maven shut me out of a place that was rightfully mine. He didn't know to look for Elane. My lovely, invisible shadow. Her reports came later, under the cover of the night. They were very thorough. I feel them still, whispered against my skin with only the moon to listen. Elane Haven is the most beautiful girl I've ever seen in any capacity, but she looks best in moonlight

Now I am king and you could have been my Red Queen. Now, you are nothing.

Her grip is strong as she shakes my hand; for once someone isn’t afraid I’ll break like glass. “Every happiness to you, Lady Mareena. I can see this one suits you.” She jerks her head toward Maven. “Not like fancy Samos,” she adds in a playful whisper. “She’ll make a sad queen, and you a happy princess, mark my words.” “Marked,

I won’t let him hurt you again.” His breath makes me shiver. A strange sensation, when surrounded with such blazing warmth. “I believe you,” I tell him, lying. Because I am weak, I turn in his arms. Because I am weak, I press my lips to his, searching for something to make me stop running, to make me forget. We are both weak, it seems. As his hands run over my skin, I feel a different sort of pain. Worse than Maven’s machine, deeper than my nerves. It aches like a hollow, like an empty weight. I am a sword, born of lightning, of this fire — and of Maven’s. One already betrayed me, and the other might leave at any moment. But I do not fear a broken heart. I do not fear pain.

When tears spring to his eyes, I know the king's heart, no matter how small or cold, has been broken. He loves Maven, in his own way. But it's too late for that.

I am the King and you could've been my Red Queen . Now you are nothing" Maven Calore

He must be blessed, by someone or something. My only consolation is knowing I'm right about him, and always will be.

E temos uma aliança – instável, forjada em sangue e traição. Estamos conectados, unidos contra Maven, contra todos que nos enaganaram, contra o mundo prestes a se despedaçar.

But Maven isn't finished. He takes a step, not forward but to the side. In my direction. The full force of his gaze almost knocks me out of my seat. "And I want to die the way my mother did," he says plainly, as if asking for an extra blanket. Again I feel too stunned to think. All I can do is keep my jaw locked in place so my mouth won't gape open in shock. "Ripped apart by your fury," he pushes on, his eyes horrible, unforgettable, searing into me. The brand on my collarboen seems to burn. "And your hatred.

He's hunting newbloods not to protect his throne but to hurt you. To find you. To make you come back to him." His fist clenches on his thigh. "Maven wants you more than anything else on this earth." Would that Maven were here now, so I could rip out his horrible, haunting eyes. "Well, he can't have me." I realize the consequences of this, and so does Cal. "Not even if it stops the killing? Not for the newbloods?" Tears bite my eyes. "I won't go back. For anyone." I expect his judgment, but instead he smiles and ducks his head. Ashamed of his own reaction, as I am of mine.

Good-bye, Maven,' Cal says, his voice broken. He isn't really speaking to me. The farewell is for another boy, lost years ago, before he became what I am now. Cal lets go of him, the Maven I was. The Maven I still am, somewhere inside, unable or unwilling to step into the light. Despite all our difference between us, we have this in common. We use our pain to destroy. 'Good-bye Cal,' I say to no one. Weakness, my mother answers.

In the palace, during my imprisonment, I learned that Maven had been made by his mother, formed into the monster he became. There is nothing on earth that can change him or what she did. But Cal was made too. All of us were made by someone else, and all of us have some thread of steel that nothing and no one can cut. I thought Cal was immune to the corruptive temptation of power. How wrong I was. He was born to be a king. It’s what he was made for. It’s what he was made to want.

You want to thank me, Barrow?" she mutters, kicking away the last of my bindings. "Then keep your word. And let this fucking place burn.

The only person Maven has to save me from is himself.

I can feel him slipping down not just the hall but a dark and twisted path. It makes me afraid for the boy who taught me how to dance

You know what they say: ‘The cats and the owls and the better type of raven, know more of what is doing than any human maven.

I could set the world on fire and call it rain

Look through people,” I tell her, my voice muffled by the helmet. “Smile without kindness. No small talk, no court talk. Act as if you have a million secrets, and you’re the only one important enough to know them all.” She nods, taking this all in stride. After all, Cal and I have both instructed her on how to pass as Maven. This is merely a reminder, a last glance at the book before the test. “I’m not a fool,” she replies coldly, and I almost punch her in the jaw. She is not Maven rings in my head, louder than a bell. “I think you’ve got it,” Kilorn says as he stands. He grabs my arm, pulling me slightly away. “Mare nearly killed you.

My skin burs under Maven's gaze, with the memory of one stolen kiss. It was him who saved me from Evangeline. Cal who saved me from escaping and bringing more pain upon myself. Cal who saved me from conscription. I've been too busy trying to save others to notice how much Cal saves me. How much he loves me.

Cal stares at the floor, silent for a long, stoic moment. "I never thought Maven would do that to her," he mutters finally. "She probably didn't either." Then you're both stupid, my brain screams. How many times does one wicked boy have to betray you people before you learn?” ― Victoria Aveyard, King's Cage

In the palace, during my imprisonment, I learned that Maven had been made by his mother, formed into the monster he became. There is nothing on earth that can change him or what she did. But Cal was made too. All of us were made by someone else, and all of us have some thread of steel that nothing and no one can cut. I thought Cal was immune to the corruptive temptation of power. How wrong I was. He was born to be a king. It's what he was made for. It's what he was made to want.

I know my brother. It comes down to it, to saving your life or saving his crown, we both know what he will choose.

The guard won't stop. And while they are certainly to blame, you are as well. There is blood on your hards, Prince. And Maven's. And mine.

Cal might be born to rule, but Maven was meant for it. And Maven is willing to change the world for us, for the Reds he was raised to spit on.

Dimly, I hear Maven yelling somewhere, the prince charging in to save his princess. But I'm not a princess. I'm not the girl who gets saved.

Your hands are no cleaner than mine, Maven.

They built it so quickly. It's only been a few days since the Bowl of Bones," I murmur back. Anything louder than a whisper might shatter this fragile peace. Cal's hand stills, his palm flat against my bare skin. "Maven turned against you long before the Bowl of Bones." I know that now. I know it with every bleeding breath.

We’ve taken everything from her, brother,” Maven murmurs, drawing close. “Surely we can give her this?” And then slowly, reluctantly, Cal nods and waves me into his room. Dizzy with excitement, I hurry inside, almost hopping from foot to foot. I’m going home. Maven lingers at the door, his smile fading a little when I leave his side. “You’re not coming.” It isn’t a question. He shakes his head. “You’ll have enough to worry about without me tagging along.” I don’t have to be a genius to see the truth in his words. But just because he isn’t coming doesn’t mean I will forget what he’s done for me already. Without thinking, I throw my arms around Maven. He doesn’t respond for a second, but slowly lets an arm drop around my shoulders. When I pull back, a silver blush paints his cheeks. I can feel my own blood run hot beneath my skin, pounding in my ears.

I thought I knew what heartbreak was. I thought that was what Maven did to me. When he stood and left me kneeling. When he told me everything I ever thought him to be was a lie. But then, I believed I loved him. I know now, I didn’t know what love was. Or what even the echo of heartbreak felt like. To stand in front of a person who is your whole world and be told you are not enough. You are not the choice. You are a shadow to the person who is your sun.

But Maven is not Cal, no matter how much his father might want him to be. He isn't a soldier, he won't be a king, but he's braver. And he's willing to do what's right.

El es fuerte, talentoso, capaz,… y yo soy su sombra. La sombra de la llama.

Cal betrayed me, and I betrayed him. And you betrayed us both, in a thousand different ways." The words are heavy as stone but right. So right. "I chose no one." For once, I feel like I control fire and Maven has been burned by it. He stumbles back from my cell, somehow defeated by the little girl without her lightning, the prisoner in chains, the human before god.

Well, we can get started now,” Daz said in a dry tone as he gave me a displeased look for my tardiness. “As always, we’ll begin with an update on our females. My Fra-kee is very round. I told her that, and she didn’t speak to me for half of a rotation, so I suggest to the rest of you with pregnant mates not to call them round.” “Noted,” Ward said solemnly. “Reba cries a lot.

A Connector might tell ten friends where to stay in Los Angeles, and half of them might take his advice. A Maven might tell five people where to stay in Los Angeles but make the case for the hotel so emphatically that all of them would take his advice. These are different personalities at work, acting for different reasons. But they both have the power to spark word-of-mouth epidemics.

I was four years old the first time I came here, and Maven was barely two. He hid behind his mother's skirts, afraid of the darkness and empty cells. I guess he's not afraid of the dark anymore.

He is a monster still, a monster always. And yet I can't stop myself from listening. Because I could be a monster too. If given the wrong chance. If someone broke me, like he is broken. Monsters are made. So was Maven. Who knows who he was supposed to be.

Why a military intelligence group given a sacred task of liberating America and the world from a Satanic cabal would depend entirely on the availability of a janky message board owned by a porn maven in the Philippines wasn’t a question that Q believers were interested in asking.

For some reason, I think of Jon. The seer who told my fate - to rise, and rise alone. I wonder if that fate has already changed, or if this is how I change it. "I won't be your ending, Maven. And you won't be mine." Lightning has no mercy- I said once. But lightning is only one part of me.

I expect him to take my arm, to envelop me in his warmth, but there’s nothing but cold dripping off him. He’s afraid, I realize.

And if this is not love, then we are what love wishes it could be.

I love your brother, Maven. You were right. You are only a shadow, and who looks at shadows when they have flames. Who would ever choose a monster over a god?

The Tomorrow Man theory. It’s pretty basic. Today, right here, you are who you are. Tomorrow, you will be who you will be. Each and every night, we lie down to die, and each morning we arise, reborn. Now, those who are in good spirits, with strong mental health, they look out for their Tomorrow Man. They eat right today, they drink right today, they go to sleep early today–all so that Tomorrow Man, when he awakes in his bed reborn as Today Man, thanks Yesterday Man. He looks upon him fondly as a child might a good parent. He knows that someone–himself–was looking out for him. He feels cared for, and respected. Loved, in a word. And now he has a legacy to pass on to his subsequent selves…. But those who are in a bad way, with poor mental health, they constantly leave these messes for Tomorrow Man to clean up. They eat whatever the hell they want, drink like the night will never end, and then fall asleep to forget. They don’t respect Tomorrow Man because they don’t think through the fact that Tomorrow Man will be them. So then they wake up, new Today Man, groaning at the disrespect Yesterday Man showed them. Wondering why does that guy–myself–keep punishing me? But they never learn and instead come to settle for that behavior, eventually learning to ask and expect nothing of themselves. They pass along these same bad habits tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, and it becomes psychologically genetic, like a curse. Looking at you now, Maven, I can see exactly where you fall on this spectrum. You are a man constantly trying to fix today what Yesterday Man did to you. You make up your bed, you clean those dirty dishes from the night before, and pledge not to start drinking until six, thinking that’s the way to keep an even keel. But in reality you’re always playing catch-up. I know this because I’ve been there. The thing is–you can’t fix the mistakes of Yesterday. Yesterday Man is dead, he’s gone forever, and blame and atonement aren’t worth a damn. What you can do is help yourself today. Eat a vegetable. Read a book. Cut that hair of yours. Leave Tomorrow Man something more than a headache and a jam-packed colon. Do for Tomorrow Man what you would have wanted Yesterday Man to do for you.

a social epidemic, Mavens are data banks. They provide the message. Connectors are social glue: they spread it. But there is also a select group of people—Salesmen—with the skills to persuade us when we are unconvinced of what we are hearing, and they are as critical to the tipping of word-of-mouth epidemics as the other two groups. Who

Are you afraid, Maven?" My words are weak, a whisper. "I am." His eyes harden, shifting into blue steel. "I'm afraid of failing. I'm afraid of letting this opportunity pass us by. And I'm afraid of what happens if nothing in this world ever changes." He turns hot under my touch, driven by an inner resolve. "That scares me more than dying.

King Maven of House Calore meets my gaze the moment he knows I'm here....The instant hangs, suspended on a thread of time. A canyon of distractions yawns between us, filled with so much noise and graceful chaos, but the room might as well be empty.

My skin burns under Maven's gaze, with the memory of one stolen kiss. It was him who saved me from Evangeline. Cal who saved me from escaping and bringing more pain upon myself. Cal who saved me from conscription. I've been too busy trying to save others to notice how much Cal saves me. How much he loves me. Suddenly it's very hard to breathe. Maven shakes his head. "He will always choose you." Farley scoffs. "You want me to pin my entire operation, the entire revolution, on some teenaged love story? I can't believe this." Across the table, a strange look crosses Kilorn's face. When Farley turns to him, looking for some kind of support, she fines none. "I can," he whispers, his eyes never leaving my face.

He caught me back then, ensnaring me in a prince’s trap. Now I’m in a king’s cage. But so is he. My chains are Silent Stone. His is the crown.

A Maven is a person who has information on a lot of different products or prices or places. This person likes to initiate discussions with consumers and respond to requests," Price says. "They like to be helpers in the marketplace. They distribute coupons. They take you shopping. They go shopping for you....They distribute about four times as many coupons as other people. This is the person who connects people to the marketplace and has the inside scoop on the marketplace. They know where the bathroom is in retail stores. That's the kind of knowledge they have." They are more than experts. An expert, says Price, will "talk about, say, cars because they love cars. But they don't talk about cars because they love you, and want to help you with your decision. The Market Maven will. They are more socially motivated.