You bookish little pervert.

The reward is in the risk. You can’t stay hidden inside Grandpa’s overprotective cloak forever. You’ve seemed like you needed to grow out of that for a while. Mom and Dad going away, and the red notebook, these things just helped. Now it’s up to you to

They were tricky, those demons. Could they be trusted? Of course they could be trusted. She'd created them. She owned them. They wouldn't lead her astray.

There’s no such thing as ready,” she says. “There’s only willing.

Books. I'd probably spend all my time alone and lost in books if I could. It's easier that way.

I particularly loved the adjective bookish, which I found other people used about as often as ramrod or chum or teetotaler.

I feel like there's so much darkness in all of my books.