King of Scars

Stop punishing yourself for being someone with a heart. You cannot protect yourself from suffering. To live is to grieve. You are not protecting yourself by shutting yourself off from the world. You are limiting yourself.

Most women suffer thorns for the sake of the flowers, but we who wield power adorn ourselves with flowers to hide the sting of our thorns

Nikolai had been told that hope was dangerous, had been warned of it many times. But he’d never believed that. Hope was the wind that came from nowhere to fill your sails and carry you home.

Zoya of the lost city. Zoya of the garden. Zoya bleeding in the snow. You are strong enough to survive the fall.

The monster is me and I am the monster.

Most of us can hide our greatest hurts and longings. It’s how we survive each day. We pretend the pain isn’t there, that we are made of scars instead of wounds.

Do that thing you do where you use too many words to say something simple and confuse the issue.

It's not exciting if nothing can go wrong.

Say something spiteful.” “Why?” she asked faintly. “Because I’m fairly certain I'm hallucinating and in my dreams you're much nicer.” “You're an idiot, Nikolai.

Everyone mourns the first blossom. Who will grieve the rest who fall?

There had been a time when words had been the only place he could find solace. No book ever lost patience with him or told him to sit still. When his tutors had thrown up their hands in frustration, it was the library that had taught Nikolai military history, strategy, chemistry, astronomy. Each spine had been an open door away whispering, Come in, come in. Here is the land you’ve never seen before. Here is a place to hide when you’re frightened, to play when you’re bored, to rest when the world seems unkind.

You are strong enough to survive the fall

I don't like that word," Nina said, advancing. "Call me Grisha. Call me zowa. Call me death, if you like.

Just a moment," David said, planting a finger on the page to mark his place in his book. "What was your name ?" "Yuri Vedenen, moi soverenyi." "Yuri Veneden, if you upset my wife again, I will kill you where you stand." The monk swallowed. "Yes, moi soverenyi." "Oh, David," Genya said, taking his hand. "You've never theatened to murder anyone for me before." "Haven't I?" He murmured distractedly, placed a kiss on her knuckles, and continued reading.

I like to bet on myself whenever I can. But usually with other people’s money.

Remember who you are. Nikolai knew. He was a king who had only begun to make mistakes. He was a solider for whom the war would never be over. He was a bastard left alone in the woods. And he was not afraid to die this day.

Fear is a phoenix. Words Liliyana had spoken to her years ago and that Zoya had repeated to others many times. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.

They would build a new world together. But first they had to burn the old one down.

She wished she had Inej’s gift for spywork or Kaz’s gift for scheming, but she only seemed to have Jesper’s gift for bad decisions.

You’re late,” said Zoya. “I’m the king,” said Nikolai. “That means you’re early.

Is that all?' said Zoya. 'Will you be taking up juggling as well?' 'Don't be ridiculous,' Nikolai replied. 'I already know how to juggle. Literally and figuratively.

He would not beg Zoya to stay. It was not in his nature to plead with anyone, and that was not the pact they shared. They did not look to each other for comfort. They kept each other marching. They kept each other strong. So he would not find another excuse to get her talking again. He would not tell her he was afraid to be left alone with the thing he might become, and he would not ask her to leave the lamp burning, a child's bit of magic to ward off the dark. But he was relieved when she did it anyway.

Her time is better spent with me. The thorn wood is a path you walk alone, boy king.” “But it’s a very arduous path,” Nikolai said. “Who will carry my snacks?

One could plot violent espionage and still hope for dessert.

He'd come to recognize the bizarre phenomenon of Zoya's beauty, the way men loved to create stories around it. They said she was cruel because she'd been harmed in the past. They claimed she was cold because she just hadn't met the right fellow to warm her. Anything to soften the edges and sweeten her disposition--and what was the fun in that? Zoya's company was like strong drink. Bracing--and best to abstain if you couldn't handle the kick.

But if you loved a thing, the work was never done

That squash is as wide as I am tall, " Nikolai said beneath his breath as he smiled and waved. "And twice as handsome. " "Half as handsome," he protested. "Ah, " said Zoya, "but the squash doesn't talk.

We hope or we falter.

They did not look to each other for comfort. They kept each other marching.