“Crows don’t take from you,” Dean said. “They give your soul wings.”
“A touch of truth makes a lie worth believing.”
“Impossible just means they ain't thought of a name for it yet....”
“I don't care about lasting. I just want right now.”
“Dean flashed me a smile that promised rule-breaking and breathlessness.”
“Word of advice, kid. This may be the Wild West down here, but you ain't a cowboy. You're not even a boy in a cowboy suit.”
“... I'll be back before I have to meet the Headmaster about me going mad and killing people on my birthday, I swear.”
“He's no kind of gentleman.
That's all right. I'm no kind of lady.”
“You can't give up on me. If you give up, then I'm going to break into a million pieces.
I'm here. I'll give you everything I've got.”
“I breathed in for a moment, letting his scent of leather and cigarettes and boy calm my ragged breathing.”
“You're a monster that mothers threaten children with and you're still touchy as an ugly girl in a pretty dress.”
“...I wondered if I'd ever stop feeling fragile...”
“When a court officer suggested quarantine for Nerissa, she grabbed the man's pen and jammed it into the back of his hand, screaming that he was a Crimson Guard witch come to remove her memories and replace them with bird-song.
They decided to skip quarantine after that.”
“Considering it was my father's house, I thought it was very much my beeswax, but I wasn't about to argue with a stranger hiding in a kitchen, pelting me with footwear.”
“Pain was tertiary. I could feel it later, for any length of time it desired.”
“You smell pretty tasty.
Just what every girl wants to hear.”
“There are seventeen madhouses in the city of Lovecraft. I've visited all of them.”
“Hell, Cal. You're a monster that mothers threaten their children with and you're still as touchy as an ugly girl in a pretty dress.”
“I fear, in my dark hours, that it hungers for me and that it is only a matter of time before it eats its full of my sanity.”
“It wasn't even a dream, because dreams come from a person's brain and I knew deep down that this one came directly from my madness.”
“Now the Night Bridge has seen you, too, and if you turned back, it could keep your soul forever.”
“Fine job, cowboy. You work to be this stupid, or is it innate?”
“We fight and we bleed for this hidden world, and the world eats us alive.”
“The novel’s merit, then—or its offence, depending where you stood—was not that it was authentic, but that it was credible. The bad dream turned out to be one that a lot of people in the world were sharing, since it asked the same old question that we are asking ourselves fifty years later: How far can we go in the rightful defence of our Western values without abandoning them along the way? My fictional chief of the British Service—I called him Control—had no doubt of the answer: “I mean, you can’t be less ruthless than the opposition simply because your government’s policy is benevolent, can you now?” Today, the same man, with better teeth and hair and a much smarter suit, can be heard explaining away the catastrophic illegal war in Iraq, or justifying medieval torture techniques as the preferred means of interrogation in the twenty-first century, or defending the inalienable right of closet psychopaths to bear semi-automatic weapons, and the use of unmanned drones as a risk-free method of assassinating one’s perceived enemies and anybody who has the bad luck to be standing near them. Or, as a loyal servant of his corporation, assuring us that smoking is harmless to the health of the Third World, and great banks are there to serve the public. What have I learned over the last fifty years? Come to think of it, not much. Just that the morals of the secret world are very like our own.”
“I wouldn't have been sent back to help you," Tristan continued. "I wouldn't have been made an angel if it weren't important that you live, Ivy. I want you to be mine" -Ivy could hear the pain in his voice- "but you're not."
"I am!" she cried out loud.
"We're on different sides of a river," he said, "and it's a river that neither of us can cross. You were meant for somebody else.”
“Grace isn't something we deserve, Gabriel," Julia said softly. "It comes from love. And God wraps the world in second chances and sticky little leaves and mercy, even though some people don't want them.”
“Of all the pairs the Throne endorsed
None rose to burn as bright
As Lucifer, the Morning Star,
And Lucinda, his Evening Light”
“Music: what life, what living itself sounds like.”
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