That is one of the great things about being a storyteller. We get to write our own story, too.
She cried for the girl who never belonged. A girl who tried so hard, harder than anyone else, and still never had anything to show for it. A girl who had been certain that Evret loved her, and now she couldn’t even remember what that certainly felt like.
You know how they always say to cut away from yourself? I finally understand why.
When you know what it is to have nothing, you can never take anything for granted.
Their fear was unwarranted. Couldn’t they see that? Ace was sick. He was dying.
I am a vicious thing. The graveyard should fear me.
Okay, let me ask you this. Renegade to Renegade. Bosom buddy to bosom buddy.
Hold on,” said Max, lifting a finger in Adrian’s direction. “I’m about to kick his ass.” Hugh looked back at him, aghast. “Don’t say ass.” “Fine. I’m about to kick your donkey.” Max.
Then she hurried back up the stairs, a star on her wrist, a medallion tucked beneath her shirt, and a cruel twinge of giddiness fluttering inside her chest.
The higher her lies piled up, the more precarious they became. Sometimes she felt that if she dared to exhale fully, the whole thing would topple.
For there is not a soul alive – even among the gods – who does not enjoy a good story.
When a society collapses, a new master will rise up to replace the old.
When you know what it is to have nothing, you can never take anything for granted. I assure you. Every morsel on our table. Every note plucked on a harp’s string. Every star in the sky. To us, it is all precious.
Despite all the trouble stories had brought her, she loved telling them. She couldn’t help it. The way star-crossed romances and unexpected villains wound themselves around her heart and made her feel like she was floating above the world as the story wrote itself. Made her feel like she was a part of something important, something eternal.
No matter. She wasn’t reliant on weaponry. She was a weapon.
How do you kill a phantom? How do you kill a nightmare?
Don’t worry, darling. I’m sure we can find one with a cemetery.
Nova’s body tingled and, for an eternity trapped inside a heartbeat, she considered staying.
No crying,” she said. “It’s dehydrating.
It was always real for me, too,” he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. “I hope you know that.
You said you never wanted to scare me. Well, you’re scaring me.