I realized that I'd rather die with you than live with someone else.

I am not cute. I am the dreaded Grim Reaper. People fear me, you know. There's a whole song about it.

The dead have a way of becoming saints in the eyes of their survivors.

I think we should all earn our place in the world. [...] We owe the world something. We owe the world everything.

So, we wait until tomorrow night, and when you say the word, I cross over and haul you both out. Right? That's it?" "With any luck, yes." Luck? We were depending on luck? Nash is so screwed.

Her dark-eyed glare narrowed on me. "You could have least given him a shirt, Kaylee." "Like you're an expert on when it's appropriate to wear a shirt." Sabine bristled. "This seems headed into girl-fight territory," Tod said. "Should I make popcorn?

When I was a child, all problems had ended with a single word from my father. A smile from him was sunshine, his scowl a bolt of thunder. He was smart, and generous, and honorable without fail. He could exile a trespasser, check my math homework, and fix the leaky bathroom sink, all before dinner. For the longest time, I thought he was invincible. Above the petty problems that plagued normal people. And now he was gone.