“I’ll see you in Hell first.” Deirdre threw back her head and laughed. Her floor-length white hair twitched around her ankles. “This is Hell, Broc.”
“It hadn’t been Druid magic. It had been the power of a Warrior. There was only one Warrior who she knew could alter a person’s perception of their surroundings with such ease. “Phelan,” she murmured. His power was so great, she and her wyrran had thought they were being attacked by at least a dozen Warriors. Their claws had felt real as they scoured her skin, their roars loud to her ears.”
“I knew I chose you for a reason.” She playfully punched his shoulder. “You chose me? If I remember correctly, Fallon MacLeod—and I always remember correctly—I was the one who picked you. You wanted nothing to do with me.”
“Phelan chuckled at Deirdre’s outrage as her precious wyrran were being beaten by Warriors she didn’t control. There were times Phelan thoroughly enjoyed his power. Like now. If only the rest of his life could give him such enjoyment he might be able to put aside the resentment that filled his soul. Until then, however, he was going to relish hurting Deirdre.”
“think it’s the artifact. It says the tablet is on the Isle of Eigg, hidden and guarded in a stone circle.”
“It was true. Logan had created a different side of himself, one that always wore a smile and made jests to hide the truth. It had worked effectively. Everyone thought he was something he wasn’t. And if he had any say in it, no one would know the truth.”
“The world for which you have been so carefully prepared is being taken away from you,' he said, 'by the grace of God.' (Walter Brueggemann)”
“Se di me non sopravvivesse altro che l'odio. Se l'odio germogliare dalla mia fossa, un albero d'odio, esso sussurrerebbe: Achille la bestia. Se lo abbattessero, crescerebbe di nuovo. Se lo soffocassero, ogni filo d'erba farebbe suo quel messaggio: Achille la bestia, Achille la bestia. E ogni cantore che osasse cantare la gloria di Achille, morirebbe immediatamente tra i tormenti. Un abisso di disprezzo e di oblio tra le generazioni future e la bestia. Questo, Apollo, concedimi, se esisti. Non sarei vissuta invano.”
“International politics is not unlike the jungle: smaller and weaker animals require acute intelligence, sensitive antennae, and nimbleness of footing to assure their own self-preservation; the strong—such as elephants—need pay less attention to ambient conditions and can often do as they wish, and others will get out of the way.”
“...sentences swallowed and sung back and swallowed all over again. She was made entirely out of words.”
“He taunted me, "Pony boy, pony boy," because I liked ponies. Pony boy. He always came to vent his anger of dragons on me. They must really like us. They hide behind their Wasp Queen and pretend to hate us dragons, but in truth they love us. Why else would they bother with fucking us? That sentence probably turned you off. Thing is, I'm a very vulgar boy.
-Chance Karrucci (the Sweet Dragon)”
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