Polka will never die.
An inferior sense of smell," Marcus said, as if absolutely nothing of significance had happened, "is distinct from being told that one smells unpleasant.
Many women have earned titles, Your Grace. It doesn't seem to have been a factor in whether or not they actually received them.
No story that juicy was going to stay secret for long.
If I stay, they'll kill me... If I go, at least everything that wants me dead won't be taking it personally.
Give it to 'em!" Take 'em down!" First Aleran!" Kick their furry--" Assault formation!
This is what it look like when it WORKS?
I mean, we're all going to die. We know that on an intellectual level. We figure it out when we're still fairly young, and it scares us so badly that we convince ourselves we're immortal for more than a decade afterwards.
I parked in front of the Field Museum under a NO PARKING sign. There were a couple of actual spots I could have used, but the drive was even closer. Besides, I found it aesthetically satisfying to defy municipal code.
Do you have a little white dress? I've had this deep-seated nurse fantasy about you, Murphy.
I didn't want to believe that killing was deep inside of me. I didn't want to think about the part of me that took a dark joy in gathering all the power it could and using it as I saw fit, everything else be damned. There was power to be had in hatred, too, in anger and in lust, in selfishness and in pride. And I knew that there was some dark corner of me that would enjoy using magic for killing—and then long for more. That was black magic, and it was easy to use. Easy and fun. Like Legos.
Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.
I don't believe in faeries!
All of those faeries and duels and mad queens and so on, and no one quoted old Billy Shakespeare. Not even once.
A succubus on the set. Strike that, the health-conscious kid sister made it two… succubuses. Succubusees? Succubi? Stupid Latin correspondence course.
I'd been in hairier situations than this one. Actually, it's sort of depressing, thinking how many times I'd been in them. But if experience had taught me anything, it was this: No matter how screwed up things are, they can get a whole lot worse.
Black Court vampires. I just shortened it some." Ebenezar tsked. "Blampires. That's the problem with you young people. Shortening all the words.
God save me from idealists.
There are things you can't walk away from. Not if you want to live with yourself afterward.
I'm dealing with a lot of scary things. I think you have to react to them. And you either laugh at them or you go insane.
Sometimes I forget how much I like riding the bike." Most chicks do," I said. "Roar of the engine and so on." Murphy's blue eyes glittered with annoyance and anticipation. "Pig. You really enjoy dropping all women together in the same demographic, don't you?" It's not my fault all women like motorcycles, Murph. They're basically huge vibrators. With wheels.
I'm so pretty, it's hard for me to think of myself as intelligent.
I'm sure that you psychotic necro-wannabes with delusions of godhood are all about sharing with your fellow maniacs.
I'm brilliant as well as skilled," he said modestly. "It's a great burden, all of that on top of my angelic good looks. But I try to soldier on as best I can.
See? This is why I'm not religious. I couldn't possibly keep my mouth shut long enough to get along with everyone else.
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