“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.”
― Donna Grant, quote from Darkest Highlander
“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.”
― Donna Grant, quote from Darkest Highlander
“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.”
― Donna Grant, quote from Darkest Highlander
“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.”
― Donna Grant, quote from Darkest Highlander
“think it’s the artifact. It says the tablet is on the Isle of Eigg, hidden and guarded in a stone circle.”
― Donna Grant, quote from Darkest Highlander
“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.”
― Donna Grant, quote from Darkest Highlander
“A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong, gives it a superficial appearance of being right, and raises at first a formidable outcry in defense of custom. But the tumult soon subsides. Time makes more converts than reason.”
― Thomas Paine, quote from Common Sense
“In a world where vows are worthless.Where making a pledge means nothing. Where promises are made to be broken, it would be nice to see words come back into power.”
― Chuck Palahniuk, quote from Lullaby
“Do you understand what I’m offering you?"
"Do you understand that it’s not 1815?"
"It’s not unusual for Masters to have Consorts."
"Yes, and your current Consort’s in my kitchen right now. If you need . . . relieving, talk to her."
"As much as it pains me to say it, Amber isn’t you."
"I don’t even know what that means. Should I—What? Be flattered that while you don’t like me, you’re willing to sacrifice just to get into my pants?”
― Chloe Neill, quote from Some Girls Bite
“It doesn't matter how greatly you've been hurt or how much you're hurting, it's what you do with the pain that counts. You could cry for years or you could choose to learn and grow from it.”
― Chris Colfer, quote from The Wishing Spell
“The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black box now resting on the stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here. Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a new box, but every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything's being done. The black box grew shabbier each year: by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained.
Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had been forgotten or discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of wood that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued, had been all very well when the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep on growing, it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into he black box. The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was then taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to take it to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the post office. and sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.”
― Shirley Jackson, quote from The Lottery and Other Stories
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