She turned to me, head titled, her expression pure confusion. As though I had no reason to be afraid of a broken heart. She had no idea how dangerous a broken heart could be. You do, though. You know.
In general, her family wasn’t very good at talking about important stuff. And of all of them, she was the least good at it. When she tried, it felt like all the chains on all her imagined safes and trunks started rattling.
Each of you will have a chance to play it, and whosoever plays most sweetly, you will have it. For art is more than virtue or vice.
I know I shouldn’t love it as I do, stolen as I am from the mortal world, my parents murdered. But I love it all the same.
I am not sure I sleep, but I do dream.
And if it stings a little that he admires me primarily for my ruthlessness, well, I suppose there should be some comfort that he admires me at all.
I hate you because your father loves you even though you’re a human brat born to his unfaithful wife, while mine never cared for me, though I am a prince of Faerie. I hate you because Locke used you and your sister to make Nicasia cry after he stole her from me. Besides which, after the tournament, Balekin never failed to throw you in my face as the mortal who could best me.
If you don’t know why you’re apologizing, your apology probably sucks.
I expect her to say The Liar. She gives me a tricksy grin, full of secrets. “What else? The Queen.
His voice had a faint trace of an accent she couldn’t place – one that made her pretty sure he was no local kid infected the night before.
Sometimes lying is a real pleasure.
Don’t take it personally,” Call said. “Lots of people find me really annoying. It’s not just you.
Do you know what makes people love one another? Well, no one else does, either. But scientists study it, and there’s all this bizarre stuff about pheromones and facial symmetry and the circumstances under which you first met. People are weird. Our bodies are weird. Maybe I can’t help being attracted to her the same way flies can’t help being attracted to carnivorous plants.
It will hurt. Pain makes you strong.
Ah! A lady of mystery! My very favorite kind.
Do you know what the Turkish say about coffee? It should be black as hell, strong as death, and sweet as love.
She went to all the parties and kissed all the boys, shoring up fun against despair, against the suffocating terror that loomed over her.
Sometimes I go down and stare at it, trying to see my parents in the tide lines of dried blood. I want to feel something, something besides a vague queasiness. I want to feel more, but every time I look at it, I feel less.
I thought I was supposed to be good and follow the rules,” I say. “But I am done with being weak. I am done with being good. I think I am going to be something else.
In the dream, Tana’s mother loved her more than anyone or anything. More than death.