Death Magic

Fear and bigotry don’t need explaining. They simply are, like traffic jams and taxes.

(Lily and Rule discussing wedding plans...) "You want to get married by Carl?" "Your father's cook?" "Yes, and I've been wanting to talk about the doves." "Doves." Her eyes widened in horror. "My mother wanted doves." "Perhaps she had a point. Wouldn't it look splendid, releasing a few dozen white doves all at once to carry our message of hope and love up to --" "Your are so full of shit." But she started laughing. "Doves, sure. Our guests would love some flying hors d'oeuvres. Maybe we should have some cute little bunnies for them to chase after the ceremony instead of cake, sending our message of fuzzy, yummy love to flesh eaters everywhre.

There is no place on you I can’t love, and love grants me entry . . .

Anyone else asks how I’m doing I’ll say okay, and that wil be bullshit. It’s true, but it’ll stil be bullshit.

This time he just inhaled, deep and luxurious. The inhale was to fill up on her scent, she knew. The exhale was her name, just that, warm and moist against her skin.