Women are impossible, witches are worse, and women who are powerful witches are going to be the death of me.

Robbie turned to the house again. "Got a flashlight?" "Of course not." I smirked. "That would make me too well prepared, wouldn't it?

Women are impossible, witches are worse, and women who are powerful witches are going to be the death of me.

I feel like a fox in a henhouse full of Catholic girls.

At that moment I remembered something Cal had told me: that there is beauty in darkness in everything. Sorrow in joy, life and death, thorns on the rose. I knew then that I could not escape pain and torment any more than I could give up joy and beauty

Heritage does not equal destiny.

He gave a hard smile and the oxygen in my lungs evaporated. “We both know I’m not a gentleman.” “Yeah. Okay, let me out. I’m tired.” “There’s something else,” he said, and I groaned. “What now?” “This.” He stepped closer to me, so close that the containers were sandwiched between us. His eyes looked down into mine, intent and golden, like a lion. “Oh, no, you don’t!” I hissed, dropping everything. I pushed hard against his chest; it was like shoving a tree. “Yes,” he said very softly, leaning down. “Yes, I do.