“I hope that the epitaph of the human race when the world ends will be: Here perished a species which lived to tell stories. We tell stories to strangers to ingratiate ourselves, stories to lovers to better adhere us skin to skin, stories in our heads to banish the demons. When we tell truth, often we are callous; when we tell lies, often we are kind. Through it all, we tell stories, and we own an uncanny knack for the task.”
―
Lyndsay Faye,
Jane Steele
“And in a way I have always thought that words are alive a little, for they can whisper sweet nothings and roar dragon flame with equal efficiency.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“Though I no longer presumed to have a conscience, I have never once lacked feelings.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“Being brave and being alone aren't the same thing.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Seven for a Secret
“Some tragedies bind us, as lies do; they are ropes braided of hurt and bitterness, and you cannot ever fully understand how pinioned you are until the ties are loosened.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“I relate to this story almost as I would a friend or a lover - at times I want to breathe its entire alphabet into my lungs, and at others I should prefer to throw it across the room.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“We are all of us daily decaying, after all; the speed is our only variant.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“If I must go to hell to find my mother again, so be it: I will be another embodied disaster. But I will be a beautiful disaster.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“As he passed a hand over his eyes, I recalled the he could not have slept more than twenty hours in the last seven days. For the first time since I had known him, Sherlock Holmes appeared to be exhausted by work rather than inaction."Because if I am right," he murmured, "I haven't the first idea what to do.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Dust and Shadow: An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson
“Some cities bustle, some meander, I have read; London blazes and it incinerates. London is the wolf's maw. From the instant I arrived there, I loved every smoldering inch of it” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“More accurately, on the bed and on the table lay various pieces of what had once been a body.Holmes was leaning with his back against the wall, his countenance deathly white. "The door was open," he said incongruously. "I was passing by, and the door was open.""Holmes," I whispered in horror."The door was open," he said once more, and then buried his face in his hands.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Dust and Shadow: An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson
“secrets decay, as corpses do, growing ranker over time.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“We tell stories to strangers to ingratiate ourselves, stories to lovers to better adhere us skin to skin, stories in our heads to banish the demons. When we tell the truth, often we are callous; when we tell lies, often we are kind. Through it all, we tell stories, and we own an uncanny knack for the task.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“My earlier metaphor had been wrong, I discovered. The splash of ink from the pen dropping onto the page looked nothing like a spray of blood at all.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“Nothing is as bad as it seems,' I thought with the last remnants of my dense optimism. It couldn't be. I'd already lost everything once, I'd been ten, and so had countless other people I knew, and they all picked up and kept going. Or they picked up and went in a slightly different direction.” ― Lyndsay Faye, The Gods of Gotham
“Charles says that he does not care what sort of Jane I am so long as I am his Jane; Sardar says that he does not care what sort of Jane I am so long as I am my own Jane; Sahjara says that she does not care what sort of Jane I am so long as she is my Sahjara. Thus I am daily three Janes, and so the luckiest of all.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“In retrospect, I am very nearly as sharp as I pretend to be.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Seven for a Secret
“Because I'm still here. I got a brick, a leather strap, and a rock from a slingshot too, all on a shelf. But look at me. I'm right here.” ― Lyndsay Faye, The Gods of Gotham
“You cannot know what it means, reader, to have thought yourself despised for your unworthiness for a period of years - to have supposed your very nature poison, and your friend right to have thus abandoned you - and to learn thereafter that you were loved not too little but too well.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“And in a way I have always thought that words are alive a little, for they can whisper sweet nothings and roar dragon flame with equal efficiency.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“Though I no longer presumed to have a conscience, I have never once lacked feelings.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“Being brave and being alone aren't the same thing.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Seven for a Secret
“Some tragedies bind us, as lies do; they are ropes braided of hurt and bitterness, and you cannot ever fully understand how pinioned you are until the ties are loosened.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“I relate to this story almost as I would a friend or a lover - at times I want to breathe its entire alphabet into my lungs, and at others I should prefer to throw it across the room.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“We are all of us daily decaying, after all; the speed is our only variant.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“If I must go to hell to find my mother again, so be it: I will be another embodied disaster. But I will be a beautiful disaster.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“As he passed a hand over his eyes, I recalled the he could not have slept more than twenty hours in the last seven days. For the first time since I had known him, Sherlock Holmes appeared to be exhausted by work rather than inaction."Because if I am right," he murmured, "I haven't the first idea what to do.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Dust and Shadow: An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson
“Some cities bustle, some meander, I have read; London blazes and it incinerates. London is the wolf's maw. From the instant I arrived there, I loved every smoldering inch of it” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“More accurately, on the bed and on the table lay various pieces of what had once been a body.Holmes was leaning with his back against the wall, his countenance deathly white. "The door was open," he said incongruously. "I was passing by, and the door was open.""Holmes," I whispered in horror."The door was open," he said once more, and then buried his face in his hands.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Dust and Shadow: An Account of the Ripper Killings by Dr. John H. Watson
“secrets decay, as corpses do, growing ranker over time.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“We tell stories to strangers to ingratiate ourselves, stories to lovers to better adhere us skin to skin, stories in our heads to banish the demons. When we tell the truth, often we are callous; when we tell lies, often we are kind. Through it all, we tell stories, and we own an uncanny knack for the task.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“My earlier metaphor had been wrong, I discovered. The splash of ink from the pen dropping onto the page looked nothing like a spray of blood at all.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“Nothing is as bad as it seems,' I thought with the last remnants of my dense optimism. It couldn't be. I'd already lost everything once, I'd been ten, and so had countless other people I knew, and they all picked up and kept going. Or they picked up and went in a slightly different direction.” ― Lyndsay Faye, The Gods of Gotham
“Charles says that he does not care what sort of Jane I am so long as I am his Jane; Sardar says that he does not care what sort of Jane I am so long as I am my own Jane; Sahjara says that she does not care what sort of Jane I am so long as she is my Sahjara. Thus I am daily three Janes, and so the luckiest of all.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
“In retrospect, I am very nearly as sharp as I pretend to be.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Seven for a Secret
“Because I'm still here. I got a brick, a leather strap, and a rock from a slingshot too, all on a shelf. But look at me. I'm right here.” ― Lyndsay Faye, The Gods of Gotham
“You cannot know what it means, reader, to have thought yourself despised for your unworthiness for a period of years - to have supposed your very nature poison, and your friend right to have thus abandoned you - and to learn thereafter that you were loved not too little but too well.” ― Lyndsay Faye, Jane Steele
