They come to us, these restless dead, Shrouds woven from the words of men, With trumpets sounding overhead (The walls of hope have grown so thin And all our vaunted innocence Has withered in this endless frost) That promise little recompense For all we risk, for all we've lost.
Mira GrantOne man's gospel truth is another man's blasphemous lie. The dangerous thing about people is the way we'll try to kill anyone whose truth doesn't agree with ours.
Mira GrantThe problem with people who say monsters don't really exist is that they're almost never saying it to the monsters." —Alice Healy
Mira GrantIt’s lovely,” I said, taking an involuntary half step back. “Really, though. I don’t like to handle other people’s cookware.” “That’s the best you can manage? That’s your bright, bold lie?” “Look, lady, I don’t know about you, but I’ve never had somebody corner me on a dark street and try to hand me a frying pan before,” I snapped.
Mira Grant