Mutually assured destruction.
Some promises aren’t worth keeping.
Lie until even you believe it - that's the real secret of lying
Instead, it just reminded her that sometimes there were no good choices.
All friendships are negotiations of power.
Sometimes,” Sam says, “I can’t tell when you’re lying.” “I never lie,” I lie.
Philip Sharpe was a soldier in God's army," says the minister. "Now he marches with the angels.
Marks forget that whenever something's too good to be true, that's because it's a con.
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.
Like a stage magician, the con artist misdirects suspicion. While everyone’s watching for him to pull a rabbit out of a hat, he’s actually sawing a girl in half. You think he’s doing one trick when he’s actually doing another. You think that I’m dying, but I’m laughing at you.
The first boy I fell in love with didn't know I loved him, but he managed to break my heart anyway.
There’s people who do things and people who never do—who say they will someday, but they just don’t. I want to go on a quest. I’ve always wanted to go on a quest. And now that I have one, I’m not backing down from it. I’m not going home until it’s complete.
Life's full of opportunities to make crappy decisions that feel good. And after the first one, the rest get a whole lot easier.
The more powerful you become, the more others will find ways to master you. They'll do it through those you love and those you hate. They will find the bit and the bridle that fits your mouth and will make you yield.
I did it to get what I want. Maybe I should regret that, but I can’t. Sometimes you do the bad thing and hope for the good result.
They say that nameless things change constantly—that names fix them in place like pins.
You both ... you both saved me?" "Come on," said Luis. "You make it sound like it was hard for Val to go to the Unseelie Court, strike a deal with Roiben, challenge Mabry to a duel, win back your heart, and then get back here during rush hour.
I hate that everyone calls it growing up, but it seems like DYING.
Jewels, lies, slips of paper, dried flowers, memories of thing long past, useless quotations, idle hands, beads, buttons, and mischief.
That’s family for you. Can’t live with them, can’t murder them.
He looks like the good boy he's never been.
Poisonous jealousy thrummed through my veins.
She sat in the dew-damp grass and ripped up clumps of it, tossing them in the air and feeling vaguely guilty about it. Some gnome ought to pop out of the tree and scold her for torturing the lawn.
Can't get away from your own self.
You can always count on your family to love you. And to betray you. And then to feel guilty about it.
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