I’m sorry I kissed you- it was selfish and it upset you- but you can’t ask me to pretend I didnt want to.
I like all the things that make you monstrous.
Boys never believe I can beat them, she told me back then. But I always win in the end.
I can’t help feeling a little bit competitive and a little bit disappointed in myself that I’m already so far behind. After all, Yulikova thinks Barron has a real future with the Bureau. She told me so. I told her that sociopaths are relentlessly charming. I think she figured I was joking.
The problem with cell phones is that you can’t slam them down into a cradle when you hang up. Your only option is to throw them, and if you do, they just skitter across the floor and crack their case. It’s not satisfying at all. I close my eyes and bend down to pick up the pieces.
You want me to say something? Okay. Sometimes I think I am what you made me. And sometimes I don’t know who I am at all. And either way I’m not happy.
It makes you a different person, to not have a past. It eats away at who you are, until what’s left is all construct, all artifice.
We’re all dying, Cassel. It’s just that some of us are dying faster than others.
More and more I feel like the boy who cut off his nose to spite his face.
Mirroring behavior. When a mark takes a drink from his water glass, so should you. When he smiles, so should you. Keep it subtle, rather than creepy, and it’s a good technique.
I want you and I hate wanting things and I especially hate admitting I want them.
Maybe it was that nearly everyone else was dead and she felt a little bit dead too, but she figured that even a vampire deserved to be saved. Maybe she ought to leave him, but she wasn’t going to.
She took a deep breath, “Last chance. Are you in need of rescuing?” His expression turned very strange, almost as if she’d struck him, “yes,” he said finally. -Tana and Gavriel-page 33- chapter 5.
It is my belief that books are living things.
He must have been handsome when he was alive and was handsome still, although made monstrous by his pallor and her awareness of what he was. His mouth looked soft, his cheekbones as sharp as blades, and his jaw curved, giving him an off-kilter beauty. His black hair a mad forest of dirty curls.
Every plan is a house of cards.
But if you didn’t believe in monsters, then how were you going to be able to keep safe from them?
They think you can’t feel anything, because they’ve forgotten how. You’re very, very dangerous, I get that, and you’re prone to some very theatrical brooding, but don’t let yourself mistake that for some kind of inner corruption. They see themselves in you and are blinded.
You have to write a lot. And you have to rewrite what you wrote a lot more.
A second book that makes you rethink the first book is the Holy Grail of a series.