Can’t clean up after you anymore, baby brother, so don’t punk out. Make it count.

Anger is great. It's powerful, when you need something to hold you up. Something to steel your spine. But in the dark, when you're alone with the truth, anger can't survive. The only thing that can live in the dark with you is fear.

What took you so long?” Nash asked, as he slid into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed. “I stopped to donate all your underwear to the homeless. You’re gonna wanna take care of those tighty whities—they’re all you’ve got left.” He leaned against the door, either too tired or too drunk to sit up. “And to think, most people don’t understand your sense of humor.” “Fools, all of them.

...sometimes compassion is the greater part of honor.

And anyway, considering that her mother dies and her boyfriend's spending a small fortune to get high off someone else's bad breath, I'd say Sophie's next in line for therapy.

You think I need to be rescued?" "I think it doesn't hurt to let someone else do the rescuing every now and then, when your own armor starts to get banged up.

And I met Madeline's necromancer. His name's Luca." "A death detector?" Tod made a face. "That's creepy." "It gets weirder. He's dating Sophie." "On purpose?