Holly Black

“Time to change partners,” a voice says, and I look to see that it’s the worst person possible: Cardan. “Oh,” he says to Locke. “Did I steal your line?”

“Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.”

Most of all, I hate you because I think of you. Often. It’s disgusting, and I can’t stop.”

I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but I guess I’ll take it.

I do not understand why he likes me, but it is exciting to be liked.

A dead woman living. A child born from nothing.”

You really do want me,” I say, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath as it hitches. “And you hate it.” I change the angle of the knife, turning it so it’s against his neck. He doesn’t look nearly as alarmed by that as I might expect.

Not nearly as alarmed as when I bring my mouth to his.

“Everything’s got a moral, if only you can find it.”

"You know what the sun looks like?" Kaye asked. There was only a little more than a slice of red where the sea met the sky.

"No, what?" Janet said, holding the lipgloss out to Kaye.

"Like he slit his wrists in a bathtub and the blood is all over the water."

"That's gross, Kaye."

"And the moon is just watching. She's just watching him die. She must have driven him to it."

Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.
—Walt Whitman