The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
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.
V. E. Schwab • The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
A palimpsest in reverse.
V. E. Schwab • The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
lifetime of knowing brushed away like a tear.
V. E. Schwab • The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
who sprang up from the ground itself with gnarled hands and woody skin and roots deep enough to tap into her own hidden well.
V. E. Schwab • The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
because he is a hated thing, but a hated thing is still something. The only thing she has.
V. E. Schwab • The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
Ideas are wilder than memories.
V. E. Schwab • The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
To grow wild and deep, belong to no one but the ground beneath her feet, and the sky above, just like Estele. It would be an unconventional life, and perhaps a little lonely, but at least it would be hers. She would belong to no one but herself.