Even more blood welled up and spilled down his arm, splattering onto the ground. “Camille’s carpet,” Magnus protested. “It’s blood,” said Will. “She ought to be thrilled.

I have a plan.” He groaned. “I was afraid of that.” “My plans are not terrible.” “Isabelle’s plans are terrible.” He pointed a finger at her. “Your plans are suicidal. At best.” She sat back, her arms crossed over her chest. “Do you want to hear it or not? You have to keep it a secret.” “I would pluck out my own eyes with a fork before I would give away your secrets,” Simon said, then looked anxious. “Wait a second. Do you think that’s likely to be required?

Through many waters borne, brother, I am come to thy sad grave, that I may give these last gifts to the dead. Forever and ever, brother, hail. Forever and ever, farewell.

The only alternative seems to be doing nothing…and doing nothing, I find, rarely accomplishes anything

What you said was true. we don't live or love in a vacuum. There are people around us who care about us who would be hurt, maybe destroyed if we let ourselves feel what we might want to feel.

You cannot buy or drug or dream your way out of pain.

It was strange how your world could shift on its axis and everything you trusted could invert itself in what seemed like no time at all.