Stand at the crossroads if you will, but if you’ll not choose, I’ll move on without you.
It is a fine line, in all of us, between civilization and savagery. To any who think they would never cross it, I can only say, if you have never known what it is to be utterly betrayed and abandoned, you cannot know how close it is.
If you will not die for us, you cannot ask us to die for you.
Joscelin, is love supposed to make you feel like you’re sick and dying, and mad enough to hit someone and drunk with joy, and your heart’s a boulder n your chest trying to burst into a thousand pieces all at once?” “Mm-hmm.” He finished his ale. “That would be love.
Her always is mine.
I seek words of such surpassing beauty that they might melt the hardest heart of stone.
It must sound, I know, as if I had no pity for him; it wasn’t true. I was angry because I was terrified. But there are times when a curse is more bracing than an endearment.
We are alike, Joscelin and I, in that what we do, we do very well.
We might embody those qualities we desire to possess by embracing them, over and over, until the line between seeming and being is no more.
To fail and persevere is a harder test than any you will meet on the practice-field.
A pretty sight; it would have surprised me, if my capacity for surprise wasn’t flattened.
Vampire in real life aren’t like the ones in the movies. They weren’t going to be playing baseball in a thunderstorm.
It’s funny, how one can look back on a sorrow one thought one might well die of at the time, and know that one had not yet reckoned the tenth part of true grief.
The pain of the flesh is naught to that of the heart.
If you thought better of me, you would not be so surprised.
It is my observations, though, that happiness limits the amount of suffering one is willing to inflict upon others.
All exiles carry a map within them that points the way homeward.
Soon never comes soon enough to a young child.
There’s more to clothing than just adornment. It does more than merely change how the world perceives us. It changes how we perceive ourselves.
There are patterns which emerge in one’s life, circling and returning anew, an endless variation of a theme.