50 Quotes by V. E. Schwab

March is such a fickle month.It is the seam between winter and spring—though seam suggests an even hem, and March is more like a rough line of stitches sewn by an unsteady hand, swinging wildly between January gusts and June greens. You don’t know what you’ll find, until you step outside.Estele used to call these the restless days, when the warmer-blooded gods began to stir, and the cold ones began to settle. When dreamers were most prone to bad ideas, and wanderers were likely to get lost.

That’s the trouble with March—the warmth never lasts. There’s that narrow stretch when it parades as spring, just enough for you to thaw if you’re sitting in the sun, but then it’s gone.

We all believe the same thing really, we simply give it different names. Hardly a crime.

Every day is amber, and she is the fly trapped inside.

Aut viam inveniam aut faciam - Troverò una strada o ne costruirò una

You get this look on your face, he says, when you're remembering.

Put your hand over mine," he says, and she hesitates only a moment before pressing her palm to the back of his hand, ghosting her fingers over his own. "There," he says, "now we can draw.

He can't hold time at bay.It is racing forward now, rushing away.And Addie looks at him as if she can read his mind, see the storm building in his head. But she is sunshine. She is clear skies.

Feels the warm circle of his arms as he pulled her back beneath the covers, the clean scent of him, the ease in his voice when she said, Don't forget, and he said, Never.