Best Mal Quotes & Sayings

Yes, I still think of him as that, call him that. It's as real as any of his other names. — Mal Peet

I didn't know what to say to Mal. I never did these days. But maybe I could just start with the truth: that I was lost and confused, and maybe losing my mind, that I scared myself sometimes, and that I missed him so much it was like physical pain. — Leigh Bardugo

Mal Blum's arrival on the indie scene gives us all hope for the future of smart music. — Melissa Ferrick

Millennials aspire to marry the blue skies thinking of the Boomers with the grass-roots mindset of GenX. — Mal Fletcher

COBB: You're waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away. You know where you hope this train will take you, but you can't know for sure. Yet it doesn't matter...
Mal looks at his across the railroad tracks. Replies-
MAL: Because you'll always be together. — Christopher J. Nolan

Mal took a single tentative step toward me. Then he closed the space between us in two long strides. One hand slid around my waist, the other cupped my face. Gently, he titled my mouth up to his.
"Come back to me," he said softly. He drew me to him, but as his lips met mine, something flickered in the corner of my eye. — Leigh Bardugo

He settled in beside me, and I curled into him. Cocooned in Wes. God, it felt so good. "Thank you," I whispered. "I've never felt so amazing."

"I wanted you in my life from the beginning, Mal. Any way I could have you." He snuggled me closer. "Even if it meant just as friends."

I couldn't help snorting. "Thank God that's not the case."

He chuckled and gave me a squeeze. "Amen, my friend. — Missy Welsh

Do I get to wear a fancy hat?"
"The fanciest," I said. "And possibly a cape."
"Will there be plumes?"
"Oh, yes. Several."
"Then I'm in. — Leigh Bardugo

I saw the prince when I was in Os Alta," said Ekaterina. "He's not bad looking."
"Not bad looking?" said another voice. "He's damnably handsome."
Luchenko scowled. "Since when - "
"Brave in battle, smart as a whip." Now the voice seemed to be coming from above us. Luchenko craned his neck, peering into the trees. "An excellent dancer," said the voice. "Oh, and an even better shot."
"Who - " Luchenko never got to finish. A blast rang out, and a tiny black hole appeared between his eyes.
I gasped. "Imposs - "
"Don't say it," muttered Mal. — Leigh Bardugo

Wrinkles ought to be worn as a badge of honour, as a mark of survival if not wisdom. — Mal Fletcher

Mal dragged the last few inches of the sword free of his flesh, wincing at the raw pain. She's stabbed him. She'd f**king pinned him to the wall like a bug. She'd fed from him and used his own blood and power against him. He hadn't seen that coming. He was both affronted by - and admiring of - her resourcefulness. — Eve Silver

The need to express oneself in writing springs from a mal-adjustment to life, or from an inner conflict which the adolescent (or the grown man) cannot resolve in action. Those to whom action comes as easily as breathing rarely feel the need to break loose from the real, to rise above, and describe it ... I do not mean that it is enough to be maladjusted to become a great writer, but writing is, for some, a method of resolving a conflict, provided they have the necessary talent. — Andre Maurois

Normally, I'm a grumpy old man - whenever I read about celebrity, I start to grind my teeth and pull my hair; it seems synonymous with idiocy. — Mal Peet

I rolled my eyes. "For defending my honor, you dullard."
He yanked me beneath a shadowed awning. I had a moment's panic when I thought he'd spotted trouble, but then his arms were around me and his lips were pressed to mine.
When he finally drew back, my cheeks were warm and my legs had gone wobbly.
"Just to be clear," he said, "I'm not really interested in defending your honor."
"Understood," I managed, hoping I didn't sound too ridiculously breathless. — Leigh Bardugo

I wasn't afraid of you, Alina. I was afraid of losing you. That girl you were becoming didn't need me anymore, but she's who you were always meant to be."
"Power hungry? Ruthless?"
"Strong." He looked away. "Luminous. And maybe a little ruthless too. That's what it takes to rule. Ravka is broken, Alina. I think it always has been. The girl I saw in the chapel could change that. — Leigh Bardugo

By lunchtime, the rest of the school was still talking about last night's epic howler at Hell Hall, but Mal had no interest. The party was the past; she'd moved on. She had bigger things to worry about now. All she could think about was how her mother wanted the Dragon's Eye back. And how Maleficent wouldn't see her as anything other than her father's daughter - in other words, a pathetic, soft human - until Mal could prove her wrong. Mal kept reliving last night's conversation over and over, so that she missed her first few classes and sleepwalked through the rest. She arrived for her one-on-one after-school seminar with Lady — Melissa De La Cruz

So when a 'heterosexual' man learns to appreciate the noble woman of Proverbs 31, regardless of her looks, he is transcending his sexuality, not EXPRESSING it. Jacob labored fourteen years for Rachel 'beautiful in form and beautiful of face.' But Leah of the 'tender eyes' (Gen. 29:17) proved a much better and nobler wife. Perhaps a 'homosexual' man - a man whose venereal desires are focused more on men than on women - would not have been distracted by Rachel's looks and could have seen Leah's goodness and nobility from the beginning, as Jacob did not (29:30f). Biblically, the dwindling of such desire is not grounds for divorce (Mal. 2:14-16). — Jonathan Mills

What do you want, Mal?" The room seemed very quiet.
"Don't ask me that."
"Why not?"
"Because it can't be."
"I want to hear it anyway."
He blew out a long breath. "Say goodnight. Tell me to leave, Alina."
"No."
"You need an army. You need a crown."
"I do."
He laughed then. "I know I'm supposed to say something noble
I want a united Ravka free from the Fold. I want the Darkling in the ground, where he can never hurt you or anyone else again." He gave a rueful shake of his head. "But I guess I'm the same selfish ass I've always been. For all my talk of vows and honor, what I really want is to put you up against that wall and kiss you until you forget you ever knew another man's name. So tell me to go, Alina. Because I can't give you a title or an army or any of the things you need. — Leigh Bardugo

I would like to clarify one thing about the 1970 USC game. Talk about urban legend. There have been numerous stories and documentaries about Coach going to the USC dressing room after that game and bringing Sam Cunningham back into our locker room and saying, "This is what a real football player looks like." I was there and it didn't happen. It wasn't unusual for Coach Bryant to go to a visiting locker area after a game and congratulate the other team if they beat us and he did do that after the game. But he never brought anyone back to our dressing room. — Mal Moore With Steve Townsend

The past is a dark house, and we have only torches with dying batteries. It's probably best not to spend too much time in there in case the rotten floor gives way beneath our feet. — Mal Peet

People would ask, "Why don't you put her in a nursing home?" I always answered, "I feel it is my responsibility, because she's my wife and Heather's mother. I love her and it's my job to take care of her for as long as I physically and mentally can."
Every day, I would rush home at lunch, prepare her something to eat and drive her around a little, too. She loved to ride in the car and that seemed to keep her smiling. By late October, she had really gone down. We were playing Ole Miss in Oxford, in a game that is probably best remembered for David Palmer replacing an injured Jay Barker and putting on a show that had Heisman voters buzzing.
Sadly, what I remember most was getting off the team plane and calling home. Charlotte didn't answer and I began to panic and started calling some of our neighbors. I finally reached one of the neighbors and she went to the house and found Charlotte just staring ahead. I don't think Charlotte ever answered the phone again. — Mal Moore With Steve Townsend

I'm physically completely mal-coordinated. My best friend used to make me run for the bus just to give herself a quick, cheap laugh because I definitely don't have that sophisticated cool thing down. — Emily Mortimer

Oh, yeah. You're the best," I grinned back at him.
"Pumpkin, hello. Of course I am! — Kylie Scott

Did you ever notice me at Keramzin?"
He was silent for a long moment, and when I glanced at him, he was looking up at the glass ceiling. He'd gone red as a beet.
"Mal?"
He cleared his throat, crossed his arms. "As a matter of fact, I did. I had some very ... distracting thoughts about you."
"You did?" I sputtered.
"And I felt guilty for every one of them. You were supposed to be my best friend, not ..." He shrugged and turned even redder.
"Idiot. — Leigh Bardugo

No fainting in the middle of the road," said a voice close to my ear as a heavy arm landed across my shoulders and gave me a squeeze. I looked up to see Mal's familiar face, a smile in his bright blue eyes as he fell into step beside me. "C'mon," he said. "One foot in front of the other. You know how it's done." "You're interfering with my plan." "Oh really?" "Yes. Faint, get trampled, grievous injuries all around." "That sounds like a brilliant plan." "Ah, but if I'm horribly maimed, I won't be able to cross the Fold." Mal nodded slowly. "I see. I can shove you under a cart if that would help." "I'll think about it," I grumbled, but I felt my mood lifting all the same. Despite my best efforts, Mal still had that effect on me. And I wasn't the only one. A pretty blond girl strolled by and waved, throwing Mal a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. "Hey, — Leigh Bardugo

The view from here was lovely, constant, and never the same. Somehow, it was always sympathetic to his mood. — Mal Peet

Cillian's been gone for a while. Like gone, Mal. Won't answer texts or anything."
Mal shrugged again, encouraging the apeshit.
"Mal. Did. You. Kill. Him."
Mal stared at him steadily, then shook his head. Slowly.
"Good. — S.E. Jakes

Let me tell you something. When there is a penalty kick, most people think that the penalty taker is in control. But they are wrong. The penalty taker is full of fear, because he is expected to score. He is under great pressure. He has many choices to make, and as he places the ball and walks back to make his run, his mind is full of the possibility of failure. This makes him vulnerable, and it makes the keeper very powerful. — Mal Peet

The three things that kept me sane as a child were bikes, books, and soccer — Mal Peet

Marketers reinforce the idea - a false one - that celebrity is available to everyone. — Mal Fletcher

Technology works best when it facilitates human hope, activism, engagement & intervention. — Mal Fletcher

Eve returned to her lip-gloss application. "Biology. Ms Whittier," she said, not bothering to look at Luke.
"Cool. Me too. Can I borrow that?" He reached around her and plucked her lip glaze out of her fingers. She still held the wand.
He held out his hand for it.
"What? No," Eve said.
"Come on, it's my first day. I want to make a good impression. And clearly biology can't be understood without lipstick," Luke joked.
"Funny." Eve grabbed the lip glaze back. "This stuff is really good for you."
Luke raised his eyebrows. They disappeared into his floppy blond hair. He didn't have expressive dark brows like Mal.
"It has green tea antioxidants," Eve continued. "And macadamia extract and aloe vera for healing."
"Oh. That's different then," Luke said. "Carry on. — Amy Meredith

I'm not a great reader of historical fiction; it's not my favourite genre. — Mal Peet

After being rejected for years, I found a publisher for 'Keeper,' and it won prizes, and then I had to write a second and a third book because I kept taking the money and spending it. — Mal Peet

Thank God in an atheist. — Mal Peet

You let Mal come back for me. After you gave me your vow."
"He broke away," said Tamar.
I lifted a brow. The day Mal could break Tolya's hold was indeed a day of miracles.
Tolya hung his head and heaved his huge shoulders. "Forgive me," he said. "I couldn't be the one to keep him from you. — Leigh Bardugo

As much use as tits on a fish. — Mal Peet

You just punched a prince, Alina. I guess we can add one more act of treason to our list."
I shook out my sore hand. My knuckles smarted. "First of all, are we so sure he really is a prince? And second, you're just jealous."
"Of course I'm jealous. I thought I was going to get to punch him. That isn't the point. — Leigh Bardugo

Ne dites pas trop de mal de vous-meme: on vous croirait. - Don't talk too badly of yourself: they ight believe you. — Andre Maurois

I thought I heard Billy sniffling and I asked him what was wrong. He said, "Mal, you haven't heard, have you?"
"Heard what?"
"Coach Bryant died this morning."
I don't remember saying another word. I don't remember hanging up the telephone or even leaving the phone booth. It was the saddest moment of my career.
I just leaned up against the aging brick wall of the coffee shop and cried. — Mal Moore With Steve Townsend

The groups of which we are a part impact our decisions and our decisions shape the future. — Mal Fletcher

People can only function at their best if they know that what they do actually matters beyond the corporate front door. — Mal Fletcher

I usually have about four books on the go - a bedside book, a lavatory book, a downstairs book, and the book in my study that I read sneakily while I should be writing. Short stories for the lavatory, obviously. — Mal Peet

Although I write to entertain, and try to keep my work free of didacticism, I do have a rather passionate belief in our need to be connected to - and to learn from - history. — Mal Peet

Ethically, what one generation tolerates the next may treat as normal. — Mal Fletcher

Whenever she was asked to play something, this piece was the one she most often chose. "Le mal du pays." The groundless sadness called forth in a person's heart by a pastoral landscape. Homesickness. Melancholy. As he lightly shut his eyes and gave himself up to the music, Tsukuru felt his chest tighten with a disconsolate, stifling feeling, as if, before he'd realized it, he'd swallowed a hard lump of cloud. — Haruki Murakami