She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, a tiny, bloody angel in the snow, and they were going to destroy her.
Can I ask you a question? Ya just did. Can I ask you 2 questions then? Ya just did. Ohh, so you’re a smart ass.
Non mortem, somni fratem.
I didn’t understand how someone could be both God and the devil. How the same person could destroy you and save you. When everything I was, good and bad, was knotted with threads of his making, how was I supposed to know whether to love or hate him?
Sam looked at me, yellow eyes catching and holding me. “I miss being me. I miss you. All the time.
No one was meant to see hell before they got there. No one should have to live with the devil. So many homilies on faith were ruined once you no longer required it for belief.
She was past present future. I wanted to answer, but I was broken.
I am an equation that only she solves, These X’s and Y’s by other names called, My way of division is desperatley flawed, while I multiply days without her.
Just her and the pink switchblade. They were a good pair. Both incapable of opening up without cutting someone.
I can’t change the way I’m made. I’m a performer, a singer, a werewolf, a sinner.
Life was a cake that looked good on the bakery shelf but turned to sawdust and salt when I ate it.
There aren’t terrible ideas. Just ideas done terribly.
The front door was locked. “Here, talk to Grace,” I said. “Mommy isn’t going to give me a different answer than Daddy,” Cole said, but I handed her the phone anyway.
Sam handed me my hot chocolate and didn’t answer. But his yellow eyes gazed at me possessively – I wondered if he realized the way he looked at me was far more intimate than copping a feel could ever be.
Cole said, “You’re the only good thing I’ve ever done in my life.” I replied, “I’m sorry I’m such a wreck.
Ronan didn’t sound very interested, but that was part of the Ronan Lynch brand. It was impossible to tell how deep his disinterest truly was.
Blue had two rules: stay away from boys, because they’re trouble, and stay away from raven boys, because they were bastards.
Once upon a time, there lived a boy, and he had to risk everything to keep what he loved. But really the story was: Once upon a time, there lived a boy, and his fear ate him alive.
But really, the Gray Man found that he didn’t want to talk about his work. Not because he was ashamed of it – he was the best that he knew of – but because he was not defined by it.
All of us have secrets in our lives. We’re keepers or keptfrom, players or played. Secrets and cockroaches – that’s what will be left at the end of it all.