You have a real talent for getting your ass kicked.
Flattery will get you everywhere,” Sam says, “Except, apparently, off a roof.
Can’t get away from your own self.
You’re yourself,” Tana said, grinning. “More purely yourself than anyone I know. And if you can’t see who that is anymore, then see yourself the way I see you.
Farewell, Father,” she said. He fell back upon his chair, choking. She laughed, not with mirth or even mockery, but something that was closer to a sob. “You crafted me so sharp, I cut even myself.
There is nothing for her beyond those gates,” Gavriel said. “Do you think to bring her along like a talisman to remind you of your humanity? Or do you think sharing your damnation will lighten the burden of it?
Really it was a pretty good talk. About the best I could expect from my sociopath amnesiac jerk of an older brother.
I consider kissing her right there on the dirty couch, but self-preservation stops me. Once someone hurts you, it’s harder to relax around them, harder to think of them as safe to love. But it doesn’t stop you wanting them. Sometimes I actually think it makes the wanting worse.
Books were something that happened to readers. Readers were the victims of books.
Cruddy Mouthbreather.
Kaye took another drag on her cigarette and dropped it into her mother’s beer bottle. She figured that would be a good test for how drunk Ellen was – see if she would swallow a butt whole.
Cassel, she said, you want to know how to be the most charming guy anyone’s ever met? Remind them of their favorite person. Everyone’s favorite person is their own damn self.
I will guard you from Death, for I have no fear of him.
Her screams spiraled up into the night air.
There’s nothing quite as funny as someone else’s misery – Cassel Sharpe.
Dead or not, I have come for his heart and I will have it.
For I know that Death is a guest divine, Who shall drink my blood as I drink this wine. – William Winter.
Every night, in every Coldtown, people die. People are fragile. They die of mistakes, of overdoses, of sickness. But mostly they die of Death.
She came out of sleep like a thunderclap – waking from dreams so deep and dark that she couldn’t remember anything but dirt and hands pulling her down into graves with cities inside them.
There’s no way out,” she reminded herself. “There’s only what you do before you die.