Every hero is the villain of his own story.

This, the language of deception, we both understand. We were born to it, along with the curses.

One night you will ask me for something I cannot give.

If you keep it," Daneca says, "he'll have his claws in you." Everyone has their claws in me. Everyone.

Okay. how about that time when you smoked all that weed that you thought was laced with something? You fell into the tub, but you refused to get out because you were convinced that the back of your head was going to fall off? "That third story happened to a guy named Jace in my dorm. Me and Sam and another guy in our hall took turns reading "Paradise Lost" through the locked door. I think it made him more paranoid, though." "That's not true," he says. "Well, he *seemed* more paranoid to me," I say. "And he still gets a little weired out when any one mentions angels.

It’s sweet. All this trouble for a kitty.

Even from the beginning, that was the problem. People liked pretty things. People even liked pretty things that wanted to kill and eat them.