I have found it is surprisingly difficult to remain sad when a cat is doing its level best to sandpaper one's cheeks.
When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
I never skulk, and lurk only sometimes.
If you are not careful, soon you will have men locking themselves in dungeons so that you can rescue them.
It takes a surprising amount of courage to place one's hand into an unseen area when your mind is thinking about vermin.
Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours, until Death do us part. Whatever that may mean when consorting with one of Death’s handmaidens.
It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.
I will sit here but an hour or two, then leave." I yawn. "So very long as that?" When he answers, there is a wry note in his voice. "I do have my reputation to protect.
And just as love has two sides, so too does Death. While Ismae will serve as His mercy, I will not, for that is not how He fashioned me. Every death I have witnessed, every horror I have endured, has forged me to be who I am -- Death's justice.
I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face.
Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
... while I am Death's daughter and walk in His dark shadow, surely the darkness can give way to light sometimes.
Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours....
I am beginning to think that love itself is never wrong. It is what love can drive people to do that is the problem.
Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.
I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.' 'It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say. 'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.
We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.
Hate cannot be fought with hate. Evil cannot be conquered by darkness. Only love has the power to conquer them both.
It is a good thing I no longer have a heart, because if I did, it would surely break.
I cannot tell her I have been moping over a broken heart when I have worked so hard to convince her I have no heart at all.
Truly, we are the gods' own children, forged in the fire of our tortured pasts, but also blessed with unimaginable gifts.
If he is smart, he will run. He is not.
Every time he glances at me I feel it just as surely as if he has reached out and run his finger along my soul. It is all I can do not to smile at the sheer wonder of it.
You would throw away all that we have given you for a man’s love?” “Not a man’s love,” I say softly. “But Duval’s. And I would find a way to serve both my god and my heart. Surely He does not give us hearts so we may spend our lives ignoring them.
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