Marie Lu quotes:

I've always had this interest in sibling relationships because I don't have any siblings. I'm completely a product of the one-child policy in China, so I always kind of wished that I had an older brother or a younger brother or sister just to have that bond, so I find myself constantly writing about that relationship.

Writing the first draft of a new story is incredibly difficult for me. I will happily do revisions, because once I can see the words on the page, I can go about ripping them up and moving scenes around. A blank page, though? Terrifying. I'm always angsty when I'm working my way through a first draft.

I remember my favorite books when I was a kid: 'The Redwall Adventure' series, 'Ender's Game,' things like that.

I receive emails from readers that both break my heart and give me a profound sense of connection. Several months ago, I received an email from a teacher who told me that 'Legend' was the first book one of her troubled young students had ever read to the end. He cried when he finished it. Stories like that stay with you forever.

Fantasy and science fiction are where my brain lives.

The king is dead. Long live the queen.

I'm supposed to hate you for what you did, I think. But her eyes linger on me in a way that refuses to let me.

He is beauty, inside and out. He is the silver lining in a world of darkness. He is my light.

Day, the boy from the streets with nothing except the clothes on his back and the earnestness in his eyes, owns my heart. He is beauty, inside and out. He is the silver lining in a world of darkness. He is my light.

In general, I write for ages 12 and up - although I've received emails from readers between the ages of seven and seventy. My books are science fiction.

Idiotic reply, June. Why don't you punch him in the face while you're at it. I turn even more flustered when I remember that I have actually pistol-whipped him in the face before. Romantic"

On the one hand, I'm so relieved that I've actually managed to finish my very first series and that I've been able to see my characters through to the end of their journeys. On the other hand, I feel like how parents must feel when they send their kid off to college. It's a bittersweet mix.

My first three manuscripts were epic fantasy - like high fantasy - and then the fourth one was a historical fantasy about Mozart as a child. I still have a soft spot for that one!

For me, as a fan, when I read book series, I tend to be the most judgmental of the last book.

What a joke! Poor little rich girl's fallen in love with the Republic's most famous criminal.

Boys are different from girls, but boys are also different from other boys, just as girls are different from other girls. Calling a book 'for boys' or 'for girls' is well-meaning, but to me, not terribly helpful.

I looked into those eyes and I saw nothing. It was like staring straight into the Underworld. Like he aches to return to where he came from.

All it takes is one generation to brainwash a population and convince them that reality doesn't exist

Love is illogical, love had consequences--I did this to myself, and I should be able to take it.

If you want to rebel, rebel from inside the system.That's much more powerful than rebelling outside the system.

I've always been interested in exploring the concept of child prodigies. When I was younger, I wrote a story about Mozart as a child, and I just always loved this idea of young people who are able to take control of their lives and bring a whole lot of change at such a young age.

You threw everything away."I bring a hand up to touch her face,to wipe the rain from her eyelashes."Your entire life-your beliefs...Why would you do that for me?" June has never looked more beautiful than she does now,unadorned and honest,vulnerable yet invincible.When lightning streaks over the sky,her dark eyes shine like gold."Because you were right,"she whispers."About all of it.

You drive me insane June. You're the scariest, most clever, bravest person I know, and sometimes I can't catch my breath because I'm trying so hard to keep up. There will never be another like you. You realize that, don't you? Billions of people will come and go in this world, but there will never be another like you.

Each day means a new twenty-four hours. Each day means everything's possible again. You live in the moment, you die in the moment, you take it all one day at a time. -Day

They were the flash of light in a stormy sky, the fleeting darkness before dawn. Never have they existed before, nor shall they ever exist again.

My heart's been torn wide open, just like I feared it would be, and I have no willpower to close it back up.

My heart is ripped open, shredded, leaking blood. I can't let him leave like this. We've been through to much to turn into strangers.

You have goodness in your heart, but your darkness overwhelms it all; your desire to hurt, destroy, and avenge is more powerful than your desire to love, help, and light the way.

The darkness seeps in a little more every day. What have I done? How can I be like this?

In the mirror, I look the same. But I am a different person inside.I am a prodigy who knows the truth. I know exactly what I'm going to do.

Her sadness makes her impossibly beautiful, like snow blanketing a barren landscape.

But every now and then, when I steal a glance at the Girl, or feel her eyes on me, I helplessly drift back to thinking about her.

I am tired of being used, hurt, and cast aside. It is my turn to use. My turn to hurt.

The irony of life is that those who wear masks often tell us more truths than those with open faces.

Time heals all wounds. But not this one. Not yet.

We can heal. Perhaps we can return to that same place we once stood, when we were both young and innocent.

Forever and ever, kid, until you're sick and tired of seeing me.

Now, as we stand three feet apart and stare at each other, I feel the full distance that comes with spending so much time apart, a moment filled with the electricity of a first meeting and the uncertainty of strangers.

Can one mistake really destroy a lifetime together~?

You know, sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I just ... met you one day. Like normal people do. If I just walked by you on some street one sunny morning and thought you were cute, stopped, shook your hand, and said, "Hi, I'm Daniel.

My mother used to hope that I would rise up from my humble roots. Become someone sucessful, or even famous. I'm famous all right, but I don't think it's what she had in mind.

Well...can't be any more dangerous than your crazy hospital break-in yeah?"-Tess (pg 59)

I am a hopeless pantser, so I don't do much outlining. A thought will occur to me, and I'll just throw it into the story. I tell myself I'll worry about untangling it later. I'm glad no one sees my first drafts except for my poor editor and agent.

I take a step toward him and grin cheerfully. "With all due respect, I don't see the Republic tacking up wanted posters with your pretty face on them.

As a writer, I try to appeal to the 'elusive boy audience' the same way I try to appeal to everyone: I do the very best I can to create interesting characters, addictive plots, tons of conflict, believable settings, unexpected plot twists, intriguing beginnings, and satisfying endings.

I don't think anything really consciously went into 'Legend' that was influenced by videogames, but I'm pretty sure some of my experiences and love for gaming contributed to a few of the factors that are in 'Legend'.

We determine whether a book is for boys or girls long before the reader gets a chance to decide: we package them with soldiers and ballet slippers on their covers, war machines and glittering gowns.

I remember playing 'Mortal Kombat' when I was a kid and the other 'Tekken'-style games.

[...] Tess and I are a good match. She understands intimately where I came from. She can cheer me up on my darkest days. It's as if she came perfectly happy home instead of what Kaede just told me. I feel a relaxing warmth at the thought, realizing suddenly how much I'm anticipating meeting up with Tess again. Where she goes, I go, and vice versa. Peas in a pod. Then there's June. Even the thought of her name makes it hard for me to breathe. I'm almost embarrassed by my reaction. Are June and I a good match? No. It's the first word to pop into my mind. And yet, still.

Absolute power is absolute power, no matter what it's called.

Be true to yourself. But that's something everyone says and no one means. No one wants you to be yourself. They want you to be the version of yourself that they like.

Boys are different from girls, but boys are also different from other boys, just as girls are different from other girls. Calling a book for boys or for girls is well-meaning, but to me, not terribly helpful.

Brave thoughts, but am I ready to follow through on them?

Can one mistake really destroy a lifetime together?

Clouds suit my mood just fine.

Day appears again. This time he leans in close enough for his hair to brush, light as silk, against my cheeks. He pulls me towards for a long kiss. The scene vanishes, replaced abruptly by a stormy night and Day struggling through the rain, blood dripping from his leg and leaving a trail behind him. He collapses onto his knees in front of Razor before the whole scene disappears again.

Day just smiles at me, an expression so sad that it breaks through my numbness, and I begin to cry. Those bright blue eyes. Before me is the boy who has bandaged my wounds on the streets of Lake, who has guarded his family with every bone in his body, who has stayed by my side in spite of everything, the boy of light and laughter and life, of grief and fury and passion, the boy whose fate is intertwined with mine, forever and always. "I love you," he whispers. "Can you stay awhile?

Day, the champion of the people, the one who can't bear to see those around him suffer on his behalf, who would gladly give his life for those he loves.

Everyone has darkness inside them, however hidden.

Everything I am familiar with is gone.

Few people ever kill for the right reasons, June. Most do it for the wrong reasons. I just hope you never have to be in either category.

For a small moment, I fix my eyes on his, telling him silently everything that I'll never say to him aloud.

He has tears in his eyes now. The sight is more than I can bear. He takes two steps away from me and then turns back like a caged animal. "Do you even love me?" he suddenly asks. He grips both of my shoulders. "I've said it to you before, and I still mean it. But I've never heard it from you.

He loves so wholly. It is his nature. He blinks, then tries to find the right response. "I-" he stumbles. "I'm so afraid, June. So afraid of what might happen to-" I put two fingers against his lips to hush him. "Fear makes you stronger," I whisper. Before I can stop myself, I put my hands on his face and press my mouth to his.

He loves you, really he does. He'd love you even if it destroyed him. He matches you.

He pauses when he finishes undoing the last button, then closes his eyes. I can see the pain slashed across his face, and the sight tears at me. The Republic's most wanted criminal is just a boy, sitting before me, suddenly vulnerable, laying all his weaknesses out for me to see.

Hi," he says. "I'm Daniel." "Hi," I reply. "I'm June.

I always knew, on some level, that I wouldn't live long. It's simply not written in my stars.

I can feel his presence here in every stone he has touched, every person he has lifted up, every street and alley and city that he has changed in the few years of his life, because he is the Republic, he is our light, and I love you, I love you, until the day we meet again I will hold you in my heart and protect you there, grieving what we never had, cherishing what we did. I wish you were here. I love you, always.

I could be compassionate, if I wanted. Metias would be merciful. But I was never as good a person as my brother.

I don't know if anyone's ever told you this", he begins. He doesn't blush, and his eyes don't dart away. Instead I find myself starring into a pair of oceans - one perfect, the other blemished by that tiny ripple. "You're very attractive." I've been complimented on my appearance before. But never in his tone of voice. Of all the things he's said, I don't know why this catches me off guard. But it startles me so much that without thinking I blurt out, "I could say the same about you." I pause. "In case you didn't know." A slow grin spreads across his face. "Oh, trust me. I know.

I don't like seeing her this delicate.

I feel so out of place here. No matter how much money the Republic throws at me, I will forever be the boy from the streets.

I have to force a smile off my face as I sit limply in my seat... Then, just as I'm congratulating myself for such a stellar plan...

I hope," he replies softly, "to get to know you again. If you are open to it. There is a fog around you that I would like to clear away.

I make sure to keep a good distance between us, just in case she decides to get happy with a knife or something.

I started writing seriously when I was a teenager, around 14 years old.

I want to run. To do what I always do, have always done, for the last five years of my life. Escape, flee into the shadows. But this time, I stand my ground. I'm tired of running.

I've been searching a long time for something I think I lost. I felt like I found something when I saw you back there.

I'd once been fascinated by his legend - all the stories I'd heard before I met him. Now I can feel that same sense of fascination returning. I picture his face, so beautiful even after pain and torture and grief, his blue eyes bright and sincere. I'm ashamed to admit that I enjoyed my brief time with him in his prison cell. His voice can make me forget about all the details running through my mind, bringing with it emotions of desire, or fear instead, sometimes even anger, but always triggering something. Something that wasn't there before.

Idiotic reply, June. Why don't you punch him in the face while you're at it. I turn even more flustered when I remember that I have actually pistol-whipped him in the face before. Romantic

I'm so tired. I don't know if I can ever outrun how I used to be.

I'm telling you that you got your facts wrong. I didn't kill your brother. But you killed my mother. You might as well have held the gun to her head!

It feels like it's the end of the world if you don't do well on your SATs.

It hurts every day, the absence of someone who was once there.

It is pointless to believe what you see, if you only see what you believe.

I've always been interested in exploring the concept of child prodigies. When I was younger, I wrote a story about Mozart as a child and I just always loved this idea of young people who are able to take control of their lives and bring a whole lot of change at such a young age.

June has never looked more beautiful than she does now, unadorned and honest, vulnerable yet invincible.

June laughs. "I have to say, you look better than most people I see. I've heard a lot about you." "I hear about you a lot too," Eden replies in a rush, "mostly from Daniel. He thinks you're really hot.

Mom used to say that having three boys was kind of like having a pet tornado that talked back.

Money is the most important thing in the world, you know. Money can buy you happiness, and I don't care what anyone else thinks.

No matter what happens in the future, no matter where our paths take us, this moment will be ours.

Now you'll get to see how I can really run a building, darlin. Not even a cracked knee to hold me back, yeah? What a nice birthday present.

Please don't take him away from this world. Please don't let him die here in my arms, not after everything we've been through together, not after You've taken so many others. Please, I beg You, let him live. I am willing to sacrifice anything to make this happen- I'm willing to do anything You ask. Maybe you'll laugh at me for such a naive promise, but I mean it in earnest, and I don't care if it makes no sense or seems impossible. Let him live. Please. I can't bear this a second time. Tell me there is still good in this world. Tell me there is still hope for all of us.

See?" she says. "tricked you. You're always staring at your opponents eyes-but that gives you a bad peripheral view.If you want to track my arms and legs, you have to focus on my chest." I raise my eyebrow at that. "say no more.

So, tell me," he whispers. "How fast did you climb those fourteen stories?" Thomas makes a disapproving sound in his throat, but I break into a grin. Storm's past. Metias loves me again. "Six minutes," I whisper back to my brother. "And forty-four seconds. How do you like that?" "That must be some sort of record. Not that, you know, you're supposed to do it.

So, when I thought June might take you away, I didn't know what to do. I felt like she was taking everything that mattered to me. I felt like she was taking away from you all the things that I didn't have. That's why I'm sorry. I'm sorry because you shouldn't have to be everything to me. I had you, but I'd forgotten that I had myself too.

Sometimes, the sun sets earlier. Days don't last forever, you know. But I'll fight as hard as I can. I can promise you that.

Tell me there is still good in the world. Tell me there is still hope for all of us.

Tess," I say. "I'm going to head down to the water.I'll be back in a minute." "You sure you can make it by yourself?" she asks. "I'll be fine." I smile. "If you see me floating unconscious out to sea,though-by all means,come and get me.

The boy who walks in the light

The first time I saw you, when you stepped into that Skiz ring against Kaede, I thought you were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen. I could've watched you forever. The first time I kiss you..." That memory overpowers me now, taking me by surprise. I remember every last detail of it, almost enough to push away the lingering images of the Elector pulling June to him. "Well, that might as well have been my first kiss ever.

The memory fades, and I'm left hanging on to the ghosts of his words.

Then Day reaches out and touches my hand with his. He encloses it in a handshake. And just like that, I am linked with him again, I feel the pulse of our bond and his- tory and love through our hands, like a wave of magic, the return of a long-lost friend. Of something meant to be. The feeling brings tears to my eyes. Perhaps we can take a step forward together. "Hi," he says. "I'm Daniel." "Hi," I reply. "I'm June.

Then he crouches down behind it, motions for Tess and me to sit down, and begins unbuttoning his vest. I blush scarlet and thank every god in the world for the darkness surrounding us. "I'm not cold and I'm not bleeding," I say to him. "Keep your clothes on." The boy looks at me. I would've expected his bright eyes to look dimmer in the night, but instead they seem to reflect the light coming from the windows above us. He's amused. "Who said anything about you , sweetheart?

Then I realize from the hollow sound of her gun's click that her gun isn't loaded. Apparently she just wants to slap me around with it.

There's a conflicted look in Day's eyes, a joy and a grief, that makes him so vulnerable. I realize how little defense he has against my words. He loves so wholly. It is his nature.

To love is to be afraid. You are frightened, deathly terrified, that something will happen to those you love. Think of the possibilities. Does your heart clench with each thought? That, my friend, is love. And love enslaves us all, for you cannot have love without fear.

to. I will trick you and deceive you, lie, cheat and steal to find you, tempt you out of your hiding place, and chase you until you have nowhere else to run. I make you this promise: your life is mine

Tomorrow, I will take on all of these things. I will be unstoppable.

We're in this together, right?" he whispers. "You and me? You want to be here, yeah?" There's guilt in his questions. "Yes," I reply. "I chose this." Day pulls me close enough for our noses to touch. "I love you.

When had Eden grown up? I feel like I blinked and missed it.

When you stand out there," John continues in a hoarse voice, "keep your chin up, all right? Don't let them get to you." "I won't." "Make them work for it. Punch someone if you have to." John gives me a sad, crooked smile. "You're a scary kid. So scare them. Okay? All the way until the end." For the first time in a long time, I feel like a little brother. I have to swallow hard to keep my eyes dry. "Okay," I whisper.

Without emotion, what's the point of being human?

Yeah, something was wrong. That was the understatement of the year.

You must be as thrilled as I am to meet again.Call it an act of extreme kindness that I requested your leg be bandaged up," she snaps. "I want to see you stand for your execution,and I won't have you dying from infection before I'm through with you." "Thanks.You're very kind.

You should have taken me with you," I whisper to him. Then I lean my head against his and begin to cry. In my mind, I make a silent promise to my brother's killer. I will hunt you down. I will scour the streets of Los Angeles for you. Search every street in the Republic if I have to. I will trick you and deceive you, lie, cheat and steal to find you, tempt you out of your hiding place, and chase you until you have nowhere else to run. I make you this promise: your life is mine.

You try to walk in the light.

You're brilliant,"he says."But you're a fool to stay with someone like me." I close my eyes at the touch of his hand."Then we are both fools.

When you've been poor all your life, you never really think it could be any other way. And sometimes you're even happy, because at least you've got your family and your health and your arms and legs and a roof over your head.