Ruthless. That’s my girl.

Because I am about to be devoured by poodles," I quip. "Remember me always, my love.

His eyes look too bright, the way the do in people who are in love, people who are enraged, and people who are completely bonkers.

That’s family for you. Can’t live with them, can’t murder them.

You got a lot of ladies to get through. You’re still young. First love’s the sweetest, but it doesn’t last.” “Not ever?” I ask. Grandad looks at me with a seriousness he reserves for moments when he wants me to really pay attention. “When we fall that first time, we’re not really in love with the girl. We’re in love with being in love. We’ve got no idea what she’s really about—or what she’s capable of. We’re in love with our idea of her and of who we become around her. We’re idiots.

You can always count on your family to love you. And to betray you. And then to feel guilty about it.

She knew she shouldn't feel that way about a monster, but right then, she wanted nothing more than a monster of her very own.