Faeries Quotes

“There was something about the stories bound between those covers, and the myriad species of Folk weaving in and out of them, each one a mystery begging to be solved. I suppose most children fall in love with faeries at some point, but my fascination was never about magic or the granting of wishes. The Folk were of another world, with its own rules and customs---and to a child who always felt ill-suited to her own world, the lure was irresistible.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“Your mortal lover has a mind like crystals," she said. "Sharp and cold. I would like her for my own."
"That's very thoughtful of you," was all he said in reply to this statement, which was appalling on a great many levels.
"Truly," the woman pressed. "Would you trade her? Your power is of the summerlands, but I will gift you with the hand of winter."
"Thank you," Wendell said; he seemed to be struggling to hold back laughter. "But I am satisfied with my hands as they are. And unless you have a key to my forest kingdom across the sea, I will not be trading my mortal lover today."
I was going to kill him.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“I followed his gaze on my pillow, upon which rested a thing I did not recognize, woolen and oddly shaped.
I seized it abruptly, indignant. It was my jumper! "How---what have you---"
"I'm sorry," he said, not looking up from the flicker and flash of the needle. "But you cannot expect me to live in close proximity to clothing that barely deserves the word. It is inhumane."
I shook out the jumper, gaping. I could hardly tell it was the same garment. Yes, it was the same color, but the wool itself seemed altered, becoming softer, finer, without losing any of its warmth. And it was not a baggy square anymore; it would hang only a little loose on me now, while clearly communicating the lines of my figure.
"From now on, you will keep your damned hands off my clothes!" I snapped, then flushed, realizing how that sounded. Bambleby took no notice of any of it.
"Do you know that there are men and women who would hand over their firstborns to have their wardrobes tended by a king of Faerie?" he said, calmly snipping a thread. "Back home, every courtier wanted a few moments of my time."
"King?" I repeated, staring at him. And yet I was not hugely surprised---it would explain his magic. A king or queen of Faerie, the stories say, can tap into the power of their realm. Yet that power, while vast, is not thought to be limitless, there are tales of kings and queens falling for human trickery. And Bambleby's exile is of course additional testimony.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“A passerby discovered a toddler sitting on the chilly concrete on an alley, playing with the wrapper of a cat food container. By the time she was brought to the hospital, her limbs were blue with cold. She was a wizened little thing, too thin, made of sticks.

She knew only one word, her name. Wren.

As she grew, her skin retained a slight bluish cast, resembling skimmed milk. Her foster parents bundled her up in jackets and coats and mittens and gloves, but unlike her sister, she was never cold. Her lip colour changed like a mood ring, staying bluish and purple even in summer, turning pink only when close to a fire. And she could play in the snow for hours, constructing elaborate tunnels and mock-fighting with icicles, coming inside only when called.

Although she appeared bony and anaemic, she was strong. By the time she was eight, she could lift bags of groceries that her adoptive mother struggled with.

By the time she was nine, she was gone.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Let the story of my neice and nephews be a warning. The more you know, the more danger you are in. And trust me, you don't want to meddle with the Little People. - L.S.”
― Holly Black, Lucinda's Secret

“You could simply tell them you prefer silver." For this is the customary offering in Ireland, at least for the courtly fae. Almost every species of Folk disdains human metals, yet the Irish fae are unique in their ability to tolerate---and, indeed, to love---silver. It is said that they fill their vast, dark forests with silver mirrors like jewels, which drink in the little sun and starlight that penetrates the boughs and reflect it back at the will of the Folk; it is also said that they use silver to construct fantastical staircases that wind up and up those vast trunks, and bridges that hang between them like delicate necklaces.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“Faeries despise humans as liars, but there are different kinds of lying. Since you and I first came to Faerie, Jude, we've lied to each other plenty. We've pretended to be fine, pretended the possibility of being fine into existence. And when pretending seemed like it might be too hard, we just didn't ask each other the questions that would require it. We smiled and forced laughter and rolled our eyes at the Folk, as though we weren't afraid, when we were both scared all the time.

And if there were hairline cracks in all that pretending, we pretended those away, too.”
― Holly Black, The Lost Sisters

“We- the Folk- don't love like you do,' Locke said. 'Perhaps you shouldn't trust me with your heart. I might break it.”
― Holly Black, The Lost Sisters

“He gave me that half smile, Had he been human, he might have been in his late twenties. But he wasn't human- and neither was I.

I wasn't certain whether that was a happy thought or not.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses

“Wren was discovered in the flashing lights of a patrol car two years later, walking along the side of a highway. The soles of her shoes were as worn as if she'd danced through them, her clothing was stiff with sea salt, and scars marred the skin of her wrists and cheeks.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“There are those among the Folk so hideous that all living things shrink back in horror. And yet others have a grotesquerie so exaggerated, so voluptuous, that it comes all the way around to beauty”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“While the exterior of the Citadel is formed of giant slabs of clear, bright ice, some of the interior walls are enhanced by having things frozen inside the ice, resulting in something like wallpaper. Stones suspended, as though forever in midfall. Bones, picked cleaned, occasionally used to form sculptures. Roses, their petals forever preserved in their full flowering. The room's walls have two faerie women frozen inside them, preserved so that they never decayed into moss and stone, like the rest of the Folk. Two faerie women, dressed in finery, crowns on their heads.

The Hall of Queens.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“All dryadologists accept the existence of those doors that lead to individual faerie homes and villages, such as those inhabited by the common fae. Theories about a second class of door are more controversial, but I myself believe highly credible, given the stories we have of the courtly fae. These are thought to be doors that lead deep into Faerie, into a world wholly separate from our own.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“Below us was a frozen lake. It was perfectly round, a great gleaming eye in which the moon and stars were mirrored. Lanterns glowing the same cold white as the aurora dangled from the lake's edge to a scattering of benches and merchant-stands, draped in bright awnings of opal and blue. Delicious smells floated on the wind---smoked fish; fire-roasted nuts and candies; spiced cakes. A winter fair.*


* Outside of Russia, almost all known species of courtly fae, and many common fae also, are fond of fairs and markets; indeed, such gatherings appear in stories as the interstitial spaces between their worlds and ours, and thus it is not particularly surprising that they feature in so many encounters with the Folk. The character of such markets, however, varies widely, from sinister to benign. The following features are universal: 1) Dancing, which the mortal visitor may be invited to partake in; 2) A variety of vendors selling foods and goods which the visitor is unable to recall afterwards. More often than not, the markets take place at night. Numerous scholars have attempted to document these gatherings; the most widely referenced accounts are by Baltasar Lenz, who successfully visited two fairs in Bavaria before his disappearance in 1899.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“Many of the gifts were for me. There were jewels and gowns and furs and paintings--- done on ice canvases that made everything bleed together far more than watercolors---and a strange, empty box with a base of some sort of pale velvet that the faerie claimed would sprout white roses with diamonds in them if left outside at midday, and blue roses with rubies if left outside at midnight. There were other nonsensical presents along these lines, including a saddle of shapeless grey leather that would allow me to ride the mountain fog, though no explanation was given as to why I should wish to do this. The only presents I truly appreciated came in the form of ice cream, which the Hidden Ones are obsessed with and cover with sea salt and nectar from their winter flowers.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“My eyes locked on the hand Devin had placed so gently on Thea's. They were a pair, a team. I didn't know their story, but whatever bond had mated them had clearly made a decision that the two of them could live with. A bond, two souls meant to find each other. Was that something I could really have? Reach for? My attention drifted to the dragon sitting next to me in the booth, and under the table I slid my fingers next to his until I could hook my pinky with his.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Dragons

“Lady Georgina of the Summer Court," Heather added.
I turned in my seat to see two fae in the parking lot through the glass front door. The girl was on fire. Like, literally on fire. Her clothes had burned off, but you couldn't see much of her. You know, through the fucking fire.
"What is going on?" I asked.
"She's having some hot flashes." Thea came to stand near our table and crossed her arms with a sigh. "Alan is there trying to cool her off. The pregnancy has been rough on her."
I looked at the flaming fae again, and sure enough a big ginger dude with a wild beard was waving his hands in the direction of his mate, spraying her with a mist of water. He might have been trying to put out the fire or just trying to simmer it down.
"I've heard about this," Jerod said, standing up and tapping his chin. "You've had a little baby boom over here, haven't you?"
"Something like that." Thea met Devin's gaze, pressing her lips in an attempt not to smile, and went over to the door to greet them.
"The faerie gate is," Heather paused, "overcorrecting for a previous problem we'd had. Let's leave it at that."
I looked up at Ryker, who was watching the flaming fae. He looked down at me with a shrug. "Fae. I'm still not entirely sure how they work and I've been around a while.”
― Sabrina Blackburry, Dirty Lying Dragons

“We are old, and cunning, and enjoy using words like blades and claws. Every word from your mouth, every turn of phrase, will be judged- and possibly used against you.' As if to soften the warning, she added. 'Be on your guard, Lady.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“She wore no clothes. Her long, dark hair hung limp over her high firm breasts- and her massive eyes were wholly black. Like a stagnant pond. And as she moved, the afternoon light shimmered on her iridescent skin.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“High Fae and various lesser-faeries I'd never encountered and didn't know the names of wandered the streets. It was the latter that I noticed more than the others; some long-limbed, hairless, and glowing as if an inner moon dwelled beneath their night-dark skin, some covered in opalescent scales that shifted colour with each graceful step of their clawed, webbed feet, some elegant, wild puzzles of horns and hooves and striped fur. Some were bundled in heavy overcoats, scarves, and mittens- others strode about in nothing but their scales and fur and talons and didn't seem to think twice about it. Neither did anyone else. All of them, however, were preoccupied with taking in the sights, some shopping, some splattered with clay and dust and- and paint.”
― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury

“I managed a single glance over my shoulder, and what did my gaze fall upon but my encyclopaedia, pages stacked tidily beneath my paperweight, little bookmarks sticking out the sides indicating sections requiring revision. That pinnacle of faerie scholarship, which I had only weeks ago likened to a museum exhibit of the Folk, neatly pinned down and labelled by the foremost expert on the subject---that is, me---brimming with meticulously documented accounts of foolish mortals who bumbled into faerie plots and games.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde's Encyclopaedia of Faeries

“She stepped inside a vestibule with a silver bowl of pure, clear water set on a pedestal made of what Delphine could only assume was a very large, very sturdy zinnia. Was she supposed to wash in it, or was she firmly barred from touching it? She glanced in its shallow depth, and it began to pulse and swirl with pale light. She stepped away quickly. A filmy veil of light separated the interior; she held out a tentative finger, and the light brushed it like organza and separated for her. She stepped through into the Court, sprawling and open to the sky above, yet bound by the pale walls on all sides.
Inside, the Court looked back at her.
Dozens of Fae, gathered in twos and threes, beneath trees of gold and silver and around pools of deep azure blue, inside pavilions made of sheer flower petals and on carpets that must have been woven bird feathers. They all watched her, silently, unmoving. Each was almost painful to look at, beautiful and yet sharp and cold. All of them were arrayed in the spoils of their bargains, with sheer gowns of watercolor silk and robes of pliable silver, elaborate braids adorned with finely wrought metal and tautly bound silk, and even, on a few, wings and horns and talons refashioned from wood and bone and glass. Delphine was terrified of them, and yet also drawn to them. A great and terrible power hummed among them, just below the surface, a nearly tangible potential for change, for creation, for more than anything the world on her own side of the veil could offer.”
― Rowenna Miller, The Fairy Bargains of Prospect Hill

“Some have suggested that the preponderance of trickster stories in folklore ranging from the Norse Loki to the Coyote of the New World may have in their origins stories of bargains gone awry, though the opposite may be as likely to be true--- that stories of human pride's comeuppance are a commonplace theme.
---Changelings and Gambler's Chances: Tales of Fairy Mischief,
by William Fitzgerald”
― Rowenna Miller, The Fairy Bargains of Prospect Hill

“And what about how she’ll be… divided?” Forrest asks gruffly. I wince at the poor word choice.

“Divided?” she asks, her tone outraged. “I’m not a pie!”
― Lacey Carter Andersen, Shadow of the Crown

“The fox melted back into the shadows of the cave, but not before I sensed something terribly amiss about it, which jarred at my awareness like a toothache.
"Emily," Rose murmured.
I turned. Several more of the little vulpine Folk, perched upon a log on the bank--- for naturally they were Folk, like the one I'd observed briefly by the cottage; I felt irritated at myself for not realizing it before. Even at close range, they looked a great deal like foxes in all but their faces, which reminded me of a human infant, all overlarge eyes and small rosebud mouths. They might have been small children wearing costumes, but for the unnerving glint of very small, but very sharp teeth, and the wet, all-black of their eyes. They darted in and out of the meadow grass, which was riddled with foxholes, so quick it was difficult to ascertain their number, except that it was great.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“If this is a shortcut," I said, "then we will be bypassing a great deal of Where the Trees Have Eyes."
"Hum!" Snowbell said. "I suppose so. The Weeping Mines, for one--- terrible waterfalls where the high ones harvest their silver. The Gap of Wick, which a nasty boggart has claimed for his own. Also the darkest part of the forest, the lands of the hag-headed deer, which they call the Poetry. And many other perils besides."
He said it in his usual bragging tones, assuming that I would be nothing but grateful. And I was, I suppose, but another part of me wept at the thought of finding my way to the Silva Lupi, a place of scholarly legend, so magnificently fascinating and terrible, and then hurrying through like a busy shopper at a market.”
― Heather Fawcett, Emily Wilde’s Map of the Otherlands

“I understand what her loveliness does to a faerie,” Remius said as he gave her a slow wink and raised his goblet to her.

“You must take care, Princess. There are many here who would win your hand through dubious means,” Theolf said, finally speaking up.

“Dubious means?” Alora questioned.

“Flirting, tricking, enticing, compelling, kidnapping…,” Theolf said as he ticked off each one with his fingers.”
― Michelle Helen Fritz, A Court Of Broken Promises & Nightmares

“Me imagino como sería tener mi propia corona, mi propio poder.
Quizá no tendría que temer enamorarme de él. Quizá estaría bien. - Jude”
― Holly Black

“Solo porque yo esté resentida con el amor no significa que a todo el mundo tenga que pasarle lo mismo”
― Holly Black, The Wicked King

“Because,” Mark said, “I wished to ride with you in the Hunt one last time.”
― Cassandra Clare, Lady Midnight