It has been the privilege and the honor of my life to know you.

As the carriage whipped forward, they passed the alley she had spent so many days staring at—it was there, and then gone as they careened around a corner, nearly knocking over a costermonger pushing a donkey cart piled high with new potatoes. Tessa screamed. Will reached past her and yanked the curtain shut. "It's better if you don't look," he told her pleasantly. "He's going to kill someone. Or get us killed." "No, he won't. Thomas is an excellent driver." Tessa glared at him. "Clearly the word excellent means something else on this side of the Atlantic.

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.

Oh God.” said Magnus, “they’re dead. They’re all dead!

Family isn't blood. It's the people who love you. The people who have your back.

But maybe you never really had someone, she thought now. Maybe, no matter how much you loved them, they could slip through your fingers like water, and there was nothing you could do about it.

After all, it was never Darnay he quoted, only Sydney, drunk and wrecked and dissipated. Sydney, who died for love.