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.

Past experience told me he could smell my fear; it also told me that the anger accompanying it would pretty much cover the scent. It's good to know how to compensate for your own weaknesses.​

Tybalt’s what we call ‘Cait Sidhe’— the fairy cats. Which explains the attitude. And the eyes.” “Meow,” said Tybalt, deadpan.

Life's more fun when you take the chance that it might end.

I require something so horrifically alcoholic that it makes livers tremble with fear and run for their lives when its name is uttered.

Sorry...I got distracted listening to you and hot glued myself to my unicorn

I'm a decent sprinter and I can gun a motorcycle from zero to suicidal in less than ten seconds.