My sister has the heart of an artist with a hatchet and an eye patch. And I, we both now know, have a heart that is undeniably, irreparably different.

Mortals always want something more- they wish for money, but what they're really after is to be carefree. Power when what they really want is control. Beauty when they want love. Sometimes they know it, sometimes they don't

Freedom of speech doesn't mean freedom from judgement.

The cruelest thing, hope, the way it strings you along, the way it makes you believe.

Making fake promises while wearing a fancy dress... that isn't enough. Promises take more work than that.

And I have to admit that there is something undeniably fulfilling about hunting with Rosie. Somehow, it makes me feel as if the long list of differences between us doesn't exist. We're dressed the same, we fight the same enemy, we win together ... It's as though for that moment I get to be her, the one who isn't covered in thick scars, and she gets to understand what it is to be me. It's different than hunting with Silas-he and I are partners, not part of the same heart.

Maybe all you can do, when your world is burning, is hold on to the thing you love the most.