What do you say when someone takes on a really bad ass, murdering sucker for you? There just aren't words for that.

I don't believe in getting clothes that just look pretty or that'll fall apart—they have to stand up to a lot of abuse.

I just . . . knew, the way you know how to breathe or to pull your hand back from a hot stove.

Really, I scolded myself, you should have known that you'd end up in a stone dungeon with no facilities. That's how these things always end up, isn't it?

Better to be strong than pretty and useless.

The only place their voices were left was in my head. It was better than being alone but it was so, so lonely.

And ordering me around is exactly the wrong way to make me do what you want.