So much importance pressed into so few words. It was just like Jacin. — Marissa Meyer, Winter
So much importance pressed into so few words. It was just like Jacin. — Marissa Meyer, Winter
So much importance pressed into so few words. It was just like Jacin. — Marissa Meyer, Winter
So much importance pressed into so few words. It was just like Jacin. — Marissa Meyer, Winter
So much importance pressed into so few words. It was just like Jacin. — Marissa Meyer, Winter
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So much importance pressed into so few words. It was just like Jacin.

— Marissa Meyer, Winter
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More “Jacin” Quotes

You’re perfect,” he said, finishing his thought as if she hadn’t interrupted. “I don’t care if you see dead wolves and t — Marissa Meyer, Winter
Before I sought truth. Now I seek justice. — Sophie Jordan, Hidden
So what's the deal with you and my sister?" He laughs shortly and rubs the back of his neck like something is there, tic — Sophie Jordan, Firelight
Don't stay away from me anymore."I stop myself, just barely, from telling him I won't. I can't promise that. Can't — Sophie Jordan, Firelight
But you're worried I'll get in trouble?" I try not to show how much this pleases me. I've managed to ignore him for days — Sophie Jordan, Firelight
Sudden conviction races through me, almost terrifying in its total certainty. I can't give him up. He's the other part o — Sophie Jordan, Vanish
It's unclear who moves first. We're in each other's arms, lips locked, melded, hotly fused. Our hands drag over each oth — Sophie Jordan, Vanish
When I shoot, the ball bounces hard against the backboard, and flies wildly through the air, knocking the coach in the h — Sophie Jordan, Firelight
Then again, there’s nothing simple about Will. I think back to what he can do—bend earth, resist shading, his immense st — Sophie Jordan, Hidden
I once saw a show about an amputee who lost his leg and still feels it. He actually wakes up at night to scratch his leg — Sophie Jordan, Firelight
He who is jealous, is never jealous of what you see, with what is imagined is enough. — Jacinto Benavente
Tapping a finger against the flesh of her elbow, she deadpanned, “Jacin Clay, there is an assassin under my bed. — Marissa Meyer, Winter