She sees ghosts,” said Samuel, impatient with my whining. I see dead people,” I deadpanned back. Oddly, it was Uncle Mike who laughed. I hadn’t thought he’d be a moviegoer.

You play games with people's lives.(...) You forget that they are fragile.

If it looks like a hallway, feels like a hallway, and acts like a hallway—is it important to figure out that it isn’t a hallway?

Some of the fae have an odd idea of bride send-offs," he explained "including, according to Zee, kidnapping." "I forgot about that." And I was appalled because I knew better. "Bran and Samuel are probably more of a danger than any of the fae," I told him. "Someday, I'll tell you about some of the more spectaculare wedding antics Samuel's told me about." Some of them made kidnapping look mild.

Are you going to tell me what that was about?” Adam asked as we went back upstairs. “Sometime,” I told him. “When we're telling ghost stories around a campfire, and I want to scare you.

What would a racist call werewolves? Wargs? She kind of liked that one, but suspected that racist bastards didn't read Tolkien.

You will eat this and go to sleep, so your pronouns get their antecedents back.