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“It can be brave to hate. Sometimes it’s like hope.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Another girl might have frozen, but I am cold all the way through.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“It seemed, in the beginning, that fighting back would only bring me further pain. That’s the lesson they wanted me taught, but soon I realized I would be hurt anyway. Better to hurt someone else when I had a chance. Better to make them hesitate, to know it would cost them something.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“And for a moment, I am viciously glad. It doesn't feel good exactly, to be in danger, but it does feel good to be the cause of events rather than being swept along into them.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Everything died in the Ice Citadel, but hope died first.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“A small smile turns up a corner of my mouth. I feel the sharpness of my teeth and roll my tongue over them. For the first time, I like the feeling.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Because I don’t like being the fool who’d been tricked. I like games, but I hate to lose.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“Since no one loves me, I'll go.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“As a child, Wren read lots of fairy tales. That's why, when the monsters came, she knew it was because she had been wicked.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“I might be only sticks and snow and hag magic, but at least I did not come from her. I am no one's child. That makes me smile, showing red teeth.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“I was meant for the purpose of betraying the High Court. Never to survive past that. If I am the cause of Lady Nore's fall, it will give me all the more pleasure for her never having anticipated it.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“I have seen this place so many times in my night terrors that, even half-demolished, I cannot help but feel like I am in another awful dream.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“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

“At least the hem of the skirt doesn't drag impractically on the floor. I can still run in it as I howl at the moon.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“It seemed, in the beginning,
that fighting back would only bring me further pain. That’s the lesson they
wanted me taught, but soon I realized I would be hurt anyway. Better to
hurt someone else when I had a chance. Better to make them hesitate, to
know it would cost them something.”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“The mortals no longer want you.'

Wren shook her head, because that couldn't be true. Her mother and father loved her. Her mother cut the crusts off her sandwiches and kissed her on the tip of her nose to make her giggle. Her father cuddled up with her to watch movies and then carried her to bed when she fell asleep on the couch. She knew they loved her. And yet the certainty with which Lord Jarel spoke plucked at her terror”
― Holly Black, The Stolen Heir

“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

“At the centre of the tent rests three thrones- two large and one small. They seem to be sculptures of ice, with flowers and leaves frozen inside them. The large thrones are unoccupied, but a blue-skinned girl sits on the small one, a crown of icicles on her head and a golden bridle around her mouth and throat. She looks to be only a year or two older than Oak and is dressed in a column of grey silk. Her gaze is on her fingers, which move restlessly against one another. Her nails are bitten short and crusted with a thin rime of blood.”
― Holly Black, The Queen of Nothing