Dreams of Gods & Monsters

You are a conniving, deceitful hussy. I stand in awe." "You're sitting." "I sit in awe.

Wasn't that what religions did? Squint at one another and declare, 'My unprovable belief is better than your unprovable belief. Suck it.

People with secrets shouldn’t make enemies. People with destinies shouldn’t make plans.

I...I sang," she whispered, "if that matters," and Karou felt her heart pulled to pieces. This Misbegotten warrior, fiercest of them all, had crouched in an icy stream bed to sing a chimera soul into her canteen, because she hadn't known what else to do. The singing wouldn't have mattered, but she wasn't going to tell Liraz that. If Ziri's soul was in that canteen, Karou would happily learn whatever song Liraz had sung and make it part of her resurrection ritual forever, just so that the angel would never feel that she'd been foolish.

Once upon a time,an angel and a devil pressed their hands to their hearts and started the apocalypse.

Soldiers and children do as they're told. Children grow out of it, but soldiers just die.

We haven't been introduced. Not really.

The two of them were stoic and stone-faced and ten feet apart, currently not even looking at each other, but Zuzana had the impression of a pair of magnets pretending not to be magnets. Which, you know, only works until it doesn’t.

Liraz may have captured Ziri's soul like a butterfly in a bottle, but that was only a formality. It was already hers. And, clearly, judging by the state of her laugh-sobbing in Karou's arms, hers was his, too.

Once upon a time, there was only darkness. And there were monsters vast as worlds who swam in it.

Be a Samurai. Because you just never know what's behind the freaking sky.

There is the past, and there is the future. The present is never more than the single second dividing one from the other. We live poised on that second as it's hurtling forward—toward what?

Hot, perpetually pissed-off angel seeks living pincushion for scowl practice and general stabbiness. No kissing.

I love vengeance like normal people love sunsets and long walks on the beach. I eat vengeance with a spoon like it’s honey. In fact, I may not even be a real person, but just a vow of vengeance made flesh.

We’re playing Three Wishes,” she told her friend. “Cake, hot bath, soft bed. How about you?” “World peace,” said Karou. Zuzana rolled her eyes. “Yes, Saint Karou.” “Cure for cancer,” Karou went on. “And unicorns for all.” “Bluh. Nothing ruins Three Wishes like altruism. It has to be something for yourself, and if it doesn’t include food, it’s a lie.” “I did include food. I said unicorns, didn’t I?” “Mmm. You’re craving unicorn, are you?” Zuzana’s brow furrowed. “Wait. Do they have those here?” “Alas, no.” “They did,” said Mik. “But Karou ate them all.” “I am a voracious unicorn predator.

How could you tell if your instincts were just hope in disguise, and if your hope was really desperation parading as possibility?

It was the first time either of them had ever held another's hand, and for them alone, the immensity of what unfolded that night was overshadowed by the perfect wonderment of fingers intertwined - as though this was what hands had always been for, and not for holding weapons at all.

Happiness wasn't a mystical place to be reached or won--some bright terrain beyond the boundary of misery, a paradise waiting for them to find it--but something to carry doggedly with you through everything, as humble and ordinary as your gear and supplies.

Scientist and smart fellow learner-of-stuff, want to do samurai-monster training with us? We intend to become dangerous.

But let's not be casual about this body, okay?" She nuzzled him back. "It may be your soul that I love, but I'm pretty keen on its vessel, too." Her voice had dropped lower as she spoke, and his response was low and husky in kind. "I can't say I'm sorry to hear that," he said, and brushed his face past hers to kiss a place beneath her ear, sending instant, electric frissons coursing through her body.

By contrast, the grime of her journey, the outré inappropriateness of the state of her, it felt like armor. I earned this dirt. Respect. The dirt.

Cake for later, cake as a way of life.

Anyone who takes on my sister," he had postured once, all puffed-out bravado, "will have to deal with ...my sister." And then he'd dived behind her and cowered.

We are the beginning ... We always have been. This time, let it be more than a beginning.

[She] had heard it said that there was only one emotion which, in recollection, was capable of resurrecting the full immediacy and power of the original—one emotion that time could never fade, and that would drag you back any number of years into the pure, undiluted feeling, as if you were living it anew. It wasn’t love… and it wasn’t hate, or anger, or happiness, or even grief. Memories of those were but echoes of the true feeling. It was shame. Shame never faded.

Liraz snorted, caught off guard, and the tension between them ebbed away. "I'm sorry if my almost dying interrupted your almost kissing.

Once upon a time, a girl went to see a monster menagerie where all the exhibits were dead.

This must be what feelings are. This is why people write poems! I get it now. I get it, and I want more.

How do you just thrust “I love you” out into the air? It needs waiting arms to catch it.