I love your name. I love the sound of it.
You and your name dropping he said, I knew Michael, I knew Sammael. The angel Gabriel did my hair. Its like I’m with the band with biblical figures.
That the wall is coming down.
He would look so young. They were both so young. Tessa knew it was unusual to marry at seventeen and eighteen, but they were racing a clock. The clock of Jem’s life, before it wound down.
Will gave a short laugh. He was in gear as if he had just come from the practice room, and his hair curled damply against his temples. He was not looking at Tessa, but she had grown used to that. Will hardly ever looked at her unless he had to.
Don’t make it sound like that. Like some ordinary sort of grief. It’s not like that. They say time heals all wounds, but that presumes the source of the grief is finite. Over. This is a fresh wound every day.
Pointless, needless suffering and pain? I don’t suppose it would help if I told you that was the way life is. The good suffer, the evil flourish, and all that is mortal passes away.
There is no cure for fictional character love, but the plus side is that it is an entirely benign disease with no bad side effects.
There was a man once who said that mothers carry the key of our souls with them all our lives. But you threw mine away.
Tessa is gone, and every moment she is gone is a knife ripping me apart from the inside.
You kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire. He had wondered once why love was always phrased in terms of burning. The conflagration in his own veins, now, gave the answer.
Choosing love or war: both are brave choices, in their own ways.
Some secrets, she thought, were better told; some were better left the burden of the carrier, that they might not cause pain to others.
Forsooth, I no longer toil in vain, To prove that demon pox warps the brain. So though ’ti pity, it’s not in vain That the pox-ridden worm was slain: For to believe in me, you all must deign.
Do not seek revenge and call it justice.
For this I would be damned forever. For this I would have given up everything.
I’m afraid to answer that. I’ve heard that when I speak, it makes American women wish to strike me with umbrellas.
I would have given it up – all of it up – to be married to you for a day. A day that would never have come. You are a reminder – a reminder of everything I am losting. The Life I will not have.
Change is no loss, Will. Not always.
All my life, since I came to the Institute, you were the mirror of my soul. I saw the good in me in you. In your eyes alone I found grace. When you are gone from me, who will see me like that?