19 Quotes About Faerie

There are no happy endings... There are no endings, happy or otherwise. We all have our own stories which are just part of the one Story that binds both this world and Faerie. Sometimes we step into each others stories - perhaps just for a few minutes, perhaps for years - and then we step out of them again. But all the while, the Story just goes on. Charles De Lint

Perhaps all women are part faerie, for what woman can deny her faerie blood when the portals to her own land are open; when the full moon sings its insistent song; when sorrow and passion and rage pulse through her body at moon times. This is why women are the chosen ones of Faerie, pat of the vibrant, fluid, emotional soul of the world… Brian Froud

Iron. Ice.A Love Doomed From the Start Julie Kagawa

Tamlin’s arm tightened around me, and he kissed the top of my head. I pulled back, looking up at him. The gold in his eyes, bright with the rising sun, flickered. “What?”“My father once told me that I should let my sisters imagine a better life–a better world. And I told him that there was no such thing.” I ran my thumb over his mouth, marveling, and shook my head. “I never understood–because I couldn’t … couldn’t believe that it was even possible.” I swallowed, lowering my hand. “Until now.” His throat bobbed. His kiss that time was deep and thorough, unhurried and intent. I let the dawn creep inside me, let it grow with each movement of his lips and brush of his tongue against mine. Tears pricked beneath my closed eyes. It was the happiest moment of my life. Sarah J. Maas

I couldn’t talk about it, about them–not yet. So I breathed “Later” and hooked my feet around his legs, drawing him closer. I placed my hands on his chest, feeling the heart beating beneath. This–I needed this right now. It wouldn’t wash away what I’d done, but … I needed him near, needed to smell and taste him, remind myself that he was real–this was real.“ Later, ” he echoed, and leaned down to kiss me. It was soft, tentative–nothing like the wild, hard kisses we’d shared in the hall of throne room. He brushed his lips against mine again. I didn’t want apologies, didn’t want sympathy or coddling. I gripped the front of his tunic, tugging him closer as I opened my mouth to him. He let out a low growl, and the sound of it sent a wildfire blazing through me, pooling and burning in my core. I let it burn through that hole in my chest, my soul. Let it raze through the wave of black that was starting to press around me, let it consume the phantom blood I could still feel on my hands. I gave myself to that fire, to him, as his hands roved across me, unbuttoning as he went. I pulled back, breaking the kiss to look into his face. His eyes were bright–hungry–but his hands had stopped their exploring and rested firmly on my hips. With a predator’s stillness, he waited and watched as I traced the contours of his face, as I kissed every place I touched. His ragged breathing was the only sound–and his hands soon began roaming across my back and sides, caressing and teasing and baring me to him. When my traveling fingers reached his mouth, he bit down on one, sucking it into his mouth. It didn’t hurt, but the bite was hard enough for me to meet his eyes again. To realize that he was done waiting–and so was I.He eased me onto the bed, murmuring my name against my neck, the shell of my ear, the tips of my fingers. I urged him–faster, harder. His mouth explored the curve of my breast, the inside of my thigh. A kiss for each day we’d spent apart, a kiss for every wound and terror, a kiss for the ink etched into my flesh, and for all the days we would be together after this. Days, perhaps, that I no longer deserved. But I gave myself again to that fire, threw myself into it, into him, and let myself burn. . Sarah J. Maas

In those stories, one is often asked to do something unimaginably terrible to the creature. Cut off it's head, say. A test. Not a test of love. A test of trust. Trust lifts the spell. Holly Black

I have always loved you, princess" Robin Goodfellow promised, his green eyes shining in the darkness. "I always will. And I'll take whatever you can give me. Julie Kagawa

It's the shape of the stories that matters, the way belief forms around it. The story has real weight', He pointed at himself. 'Patupaiarehe look like monsters in some stories, but they're beautiful in a lot. I guess people believed more in the beautiful version. And the ideal of beauty changes. If I'd been born two hundred years ago, I bet I wouldn't look like this. The stories shaped me. They shape everyone, inside and out, but me more than most, because I'm magic. Karen Healey

Humph, ' he said, with a disagreeable air, 'the universe does its work very quietly.' (“The Bogey Man”) A.E. Coppard

Why the hell didn't faerie food come with a warning written in bold letters: MADE IN LA LA LAND. EATING WILL OPEN YOU UP TO FAERIE ATTACKS. Cherie Colyer

Turns out faerie-proofing a person required a length of chain that one could find in any hardware store... Cherie Colyer

Every gift comes with a price.” I frowned, and he grinned. “A kiss.”“ Absolutely not! ” But my blood raced, and I had to clench my hands in the grass to keep from touching him. “Don’t you think it puts me at a disadvantage to not be able to see all this?”“ I’m one of the High Fae–we don’t give anything without gaining something from it.” To my own surprise, I said, “Fine.”He blinked, probably expecting me to have fought a little harder. I hid my smile and sat up so that I faced him, our knees touching as we knelt in the grass.“ What about your part of the bargain?”“ What?” He leaned closer, his smile turning wicked. “What about my kiss?” I grabbed his fingers. “Here, ” I said, and slammed my mouth against the back of his hand. “There’s your kiss. . Sarah J. Maas

But unlike you, " said Jace, "there is nothing of hell in us."" You are mortal; you age; you die, " the Queen said dismissively. "If that is not hell, pray tell me, what is? Cassandra Clare

She loves the serene brutality of the ocean, loves the electric power she felt with each breath of wet, briny air. Holly Black

I saw only a flash of green and gold before the warmth of Tamlin’s body slammed into me and our lips met. I couldn’t kiss him deeply enough, couldn’t hold him tightly enough, couldn’t touch enough of him. Words weren’t necessary. I tore at his shirt, needing to feel the skin beneath one last time, and I had to stifle the moan that rose up in me as he grasped my breast. I didn’t want him to be gentle–because what I felt for him wasn’t at all like that. What I felt was wild and hard and burning, and so he was with me. He tore his lips from mine and bit my neck–bit it as he had on Fire Night. I had to grind my teeth to keep myself from moaning and giving us away. This might be the last time I touched him, the last time we could be together. I wouldn’t waste it. My fingers grappled with his belt buckle, and his mouth found mine again. Our tongues danced–not a waltz or a minuet, but a war dance, a death dance of bone drums and screaming fiddles. I wanted him–here. I hooked a leg around his middle, needing to be closer, and he ground his hips harder against me, crushing me into the icy wall. I pried the belt buckle loose, whipping the leather free, and Tamlin growled his desire in my ear–a low, probing sort of sound that made me see red and white and lightning. Sarah J. Maas

Lucien kept rubbing at his temples as he ate, unusually silent, and I hid my smile as I asked him, “And where were you last night?” Lucien’s metal eye narrowed on me. “I’ll have you know that while you two were dancing with the spirits, I was stuck on border patrol.” Tamlin gave a pointed cough, and Lucien added, “With some company.” He gave me a sly grin. “Rumor has it you two didn’t come back until after dawn.” I glanced at Tamlin, biting my lip. I’d practically floated into my bedroom that morning. But Tamlin’s gaze now roved my face as if searching for any tinge of regret, of fear. Ridiculous.“You bit my neck on Fire Night, ” I said under my breath. “If I can face you after that, a few kisses are nothing.” He braced his forearms on the table as he leaned closer to me. “Nothing?” His eyes flicked to my lips. Lucien shifted in his seat, muttering to the Cauldron to spare him, but I ignored him.“ Nothing, ” I repeated a bit distantly, watching Tamlin’s mouth move, so keenly aware of every movement he made, resenting the table between us. I could almost feel the warmth of his breath.“ Are you sure?” he murmured, intent and hungry enough that I was glad I was sitting. He could have had me right there, on top of that table. I wanted his broad hands running over my bare skin, wanted his teeth scraping against my neck, wanted his mouth all over me.“ I’m trying to eat, ” Lucien said. Sarah J. Maas