The reason death sticks so closely to life isn’t biological necessity — it’s envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it.. a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly.. losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud.
The sea is emotion incarnate. It loves, hates, and weeps. It defies all attempts to capture it with words and rejects all shackles. No matter what you say about it, there is always that which you can’t.
“Faeries are fallen angels,” said Dorothea, “cast down out of heaven for their pride.”
“That’s the legend,” Jace said. “It’s also said that they’re the offspring of demons and angels, which always seemed more likely to me. Good and evil, mixing together. Faeries are as beautiful as angels are supposed to be, but they have a lot of mischief and cruelty in them. And you’ll notice most of them avoid midday sunlight—”
“For the devil has no power,” said Dorothea softly, as if she were reciting an old rhyme, “except in the dark.”
Hearts are as easily broken.. as they are carefully guarded..
Night is not something to be endured until dawn. It’s an element, beautiful and alluring, like wind and fire. Darkness is its own kingdom, it moved to its own laws and many living things dwell in it…
Don’t you hate it? Not ever saying how you really feel?