I thought you said scrying was a bad idea.” “It's like vodka,” Calla said. “It really depends on who's doing it.

Neatness makes me feel like I have to be on my best behavior. Clutter is my natural habitat.

Oh, filmmakers, please don't take my soft book and turn it into a horror, or take my horror and make it soft.

Sam laughed, a funny, self-deprecating laugh. "You did read a lot. And spent too much time just inside the kitchen window, where I couldn't see you very well." "And not enough time mostly naked in front of my bedroom window?" I teased. Sam turned bright red. "That," he said, "is so not the point of this conversation.

I wasn’t sure what expression I was expecting her to wear when she saw that it was me. I’d braced myself for disgust or anger. But she just looked at me like I was — nothing. An annoyance, maybe.

World of words lost on the living / I take my place with the walking dead / Robbed of my voice I'm always giving / Thousands of words to this nameless dread.

All of them are men, not a girl amongst them unless you count Tommy Falk because his lips are so pretty.