Laini Taylor

I don’t know many rules to live by,” he’d said. “But here’s one. It’s simple. Don’t put anything unnecessary into yourself. No poisons or chemicals, no fumes or smoke or alcohol, no sharp objects, no inessential needles—drug or tattoo—and… no inessential penises, either.”

“Inessential penises?” Karou had repeated, delighted with the phrase in spite of her grief. “Is there any such thing as an essential one?”

“When an essential one comes along, you’ll know,

“Right? I know. How much does your life have to suck to want the Apocalypse?”

“Dull sounds nice,” he said, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Maybe I can catch up on my reading.”

stay true in the face of evil is a feat of strength.

You know, I’ve always wanted to be a bath attendant. You should take me instead. I’m nicer than my sister.”

Tomorrow they will start the apocalypse.

Tonight, they let themselves look at each other, for just a little while.

making sense, at making self. For what was a person but the sum of all the scraps of their memory and experience: a finite set of components with an infinite array of expressions

Sarai was the Muse of Nightmares.

She asked in a hesitant whisper, “Do you still think I’m a . . . a singularly unhorrible demon?”

“No,” he said, smiling. “I think you’re a fairy tale. I think you’re magical, and brave, and exquisite. And . . .” His voice grew bashful. Only in a dream could he be so bold and speak such words. “I hope you’ll let me be in your story.”

from being one of one—a pillar alone, apart—to being half of something that would fall if either side were cut away.