“If all we've got to look forward to is disloyalty and treachery, why do we even make friends?"
"Again, human nature. Hoping for the best is what drives us.”
“Ohh, how clever," Aden said and clapped. "A death threat. You know what's funny? That's not even my first of the day.”
“I'm highly aware that some impulses are harder to ignore than others. I'm aware that fear of consequences causes us to guard our secrets. But it's our actions when faced with temptation that define who we are. It's our courage in admitting what we've done wrong that makes us forgivable.”
“If he had to have strange powers, Aden wished they could have been more like hers. That voodoo voice would have made his life a lot easier; he could have sent certain people (cough Ozzie cough) away with no memory of him.”
“anymore time in that black hole and ill go insane.”
“Tucker palideció.
—Vas a morir por eso.
—Oh. Qué listo —dijo Aden, y aplaudió—. Una amenaza de muerte. ¿Y sabes lo más gracioso? Que ni siquiera es la primera que recibo hoy.”
“Ella negó con la cabeza.
—No podemos gustarnos el uno al otro. No podemos ser amigos.
—Me alegro, porque no quiero ser tu amigo. Quiero ser algo más.”
“Things just happen in the right way, at the right time. At least when you let them, when you work with circumstances instead of saying, 'This isn't supposed to be happening this way,' and trying harder to make it happen some other way.”
“Are you seeing anyone romantically?" he inquired.
"No, I'm not," she replied.
"Good. Please keep it that way. Because I intend to ask you to marry me.”
“Vic pointed at him, two finger-guns of approval. “I like a man who knows the value of words, doesn’t spend ’em too cheap.” Ranulf nodded. “That is the manner in which I roll.”
“Here we were, Father and I, shut up in a plain little room, and for the first time in my life having something that might pass for a conversation. We were talking to one another almost like adults; almost like one human being to another; almost like father and daughter. And even though I couldn't think of anything to say, I felt myself wanting it to go on and on until the last star blinked out.”
“To be alone—the eternal refrain of life. It wasn’t better or worse than anything else. One talked too much about it. One was always and never alone. A violin, suddenly—somewhere out of a twilight—in a garden on the hills around Budapest. The heavy scent of chestnuts. The wind. And dreams crouched on one’s shoulders like young owls, their eyes becoming lighter in the dusk. A night that never became night. The hour when all women were beautiful.”
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