Everybody dies alone, Jameson said, and kept going. “Not everybody wakes up right after.
We get power by taking it.
She didn’t want to explain the recklessness, the pleasure of making the bad choice, the glory of at least this once, picking her own path to damnation.
You shouldn’t let it bother you,” Drew said earnestly. “That’s just babble. It doesn’t mean anything. None of you are going to die and you’re obviously not dead. For Pete’s sake.
Secrets lie in the entrails of things, in the dregs.
It was as if whatever demon possessed them, whatever force kept their corpses from the grave, had refined them in the blaze of its power, burning away their humanity to reveal something finer.
Mithridatism, it’s called. Isn’t that a funny name? The process of eating poison to build up immunity. So long as I don’t die from it, I’ll be harder to kill.
I thought love was just supposed to happen when you least expected it, like a sap to the skull.
He leans in and closes his eyes. “Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.” I am shocked into silence.
Would an Evil Overlord drink the last cup of coffee in the pot? Which book would an Evil Overlord take out from the library? Was dressing in all black a definite Evil Overlord move, or a legitimate choice on laundry day?
I forbid you from speaking aloud about your service to me. I forbid you from putting it into writing or into song. You will never tell anyone of the Roach. You will never tell anyone of any of my spies. You will never reveal their secrets, their meeting places, their safe houses. So long as I live, you will obey this.
Just because I am bitter about romance doesn’t mean everyone else needs to be.
It occurs to me that if I kill him, I can finally stop thinking about him. If I kill him, I won’t have to feel like this anymore.
You should tell him, I say. Which is not bad advice, I think. Not advice I would take myself, but that doesn’t necessarily make it bad.
Jack looked surprised when she stumbled upon him, which was odd, because he was almost never caught off guard. As his mother once said about him, Jack could hear the thunder before the lightning bothered to strike.
Our lives are the only real thing we have, our only coin. We get to buy what we want with them.
Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones.
You’re mortal,” he informs me. In his other hand, he’s carrying an empty goblet, tipped over absently, as though he’s forgotten he still carries it. “It’s not safe for you here. Especially if you go around stabbing everyone.
You will need me to sweet-talk the door.
Surprised?” I ask, a fierce grin starting on my face. The most important boy in Faerie and my enemy, finally in my power. It feels even better than I thought it would. “You shouldn’t be.