“Every hero is the villain of his own story.”
“If she was going to die, she might as well die sarcastic.”
“Clever girl. You play with fire because you want to be burnt.”
“I love you, you see...and I fear I have no way to say or show it that isn't terrible, except coming here. I would kill everyone in the world for you, if you wanted.......Or not obviously”
“We all wind up drawn to what we're afraid of, drawn to try to find a way to make ourselves safe from a thing by crawling inside of it, by loving it, by becoming it.”
“You are more dangerous than daybreak.”
“Even from the beginning, that was the problem. People liked pretty things. People even liked pretty things that wanted to kill and eat them.”
“But if you didn't believe in monsters, then how were you going to be able to keep safe from them?”
“I haven't had a very good day. I think I might still be hung over and everyone's dead and my root beer's gone.”
“Isn't every hero aware of all the terrible reason they did those good deeds?" Aware of every mistake they ever made and how good people got hurt because of their decisions? Don't they recall the moments they weren't heroic at all? The moments where their heroism led to more deaths than deliberate villainy ever could?”
“They wore their strange beauty like war paint.”
“Tana. In all my long life, though there were many times I prayed for it, no one has ever saved me. No one but you.”
“She knew she shouldn't feel that way about a monster, but right then, she wanted nothing more than a monster of her very own.”
“If the enemy of my enemy is my friend, then surely you should be friend to my friend.”
“He was saying that the end of the world wasn't an accident; it was a joke.”
“So I'm scared, because you're not just not human, you're not like anyone....there's nobody like you in all the world and it's you I want. I want you and I hate wanting things and I especially hate admitting I want them.”
“I promise I will repay you.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, looking at him, with his bare feet and plain, dark clothes. “With what?”
The smile stayed on his lips. “Jewels, lies, slips of paper, dried flowers, memories of things long past, useless quotations, idle hands, beads, buttons, and mischief.”
“But there's nothing you like better than when it hurts a little, is there?" Lucien asked.
Gavriel's bloody mouth lifted in a voluptuous smile. "Sure there is. I like it when it hurts a lot.”
“Allow me to explain how my whole life has prepared me for this moment. I am used to girls screaming, and your screams – will be sweeter than another’s cries of love.”
“Jewels, lies, slips of paper, dried flowers, memories of thing long past, useless quotations, idle hands, beads, buttons, and mischief.”
“Every plan is a house of cards.”
“Being
infected, being a vampire, it’ s always you. Maybe it’ s more you than ever before. It’ s you as you
always were, deep down inside.”
“You're yourself," Tana said, grinning. "More purely yourself than anyone I know. And if you can't see who that is anymore, then see yourself the way I see you.”
“One night you will ask me for something I cannot give.”
“We labor under so many illusions about ourselves until we're stripped bare. Being infected, being a vampire, it's always you. Maybe it's more you than ever before. You, distilled. You, boiled down like a sauce. But it's you as you always were, deep down inside.”
“I left mad behind a long time ago. The world it is the way it is.I can only fix my little piece of it”
“She took a deep breath, "Last chance. Are you in need of rescuing?"
His expression turned very strange, almost as if she'd struck him, "Yes," he said finally.”
“Remember that I’m still a monster. I can listen to you scream and cry and beg and I still won’t let you out.”
“Oh gosh, it's moving! It's so gross! Can't you just, like, flex your butt or something?
Why, yes. Travis clenched his teeth. Why don't I just clench my butt muscles in hopes that it will shock the spider enough to crawl back into the hellhole it came out of?”
“They sat islanded in their foreignness, irrelevant now that the holiday season had ended, anachronistic, outstaying their welcome, no longer necessary to anyone's plans. Priorities had shifted; the little town was settling down for its long uninterrupted hibernation. No one came here in the winter. The weather was too bleak, the snow too distant, the amenities too sparse to tempt visitors. And they felt that the backs of the residents had been turned on them with a sigh of relief, reminding them of their transitory nature, their fundamental unreality. And when Monica at last succeeded in ordering coffee, they still sat, glumly, for another ten minutes, before the busy waitress remembered their order.
'Homesick,' said Edith finally. 'Yes.' But she thought of her little house as if it had existed in another life, another dimension. She thought of it as something to which she might never return. The seasons had changed since she last saw it; she was no longer the person who could sit up in bed in the early morning and let the sun warm her shoulders and the light make her impatient for the day to begin. That sun, that light had faded, and she had faded with them. Now she was as grey as the season itself. She bent her head over her coffee, trying to believe that it was the steam rising from the cup that was making her eyes prick. This cannot go on, she thought.”
“I want you so much I’m scared,” he whispered.
“I’m scared I want you so much,” Kate whispered back.”
“my grandmother has given me her own version of the precious gift: the most precious gift any teenager coul ask for:
MY GRANDMOTHER HAS GIVEN MY MY OWN SEX PLACE!!!!!”
“Over the years, she'd learned not to question him too closely—mostly because he wouldn't answer her.”
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