Oh,” she said. “You can rest assured that I will kill him. Mostly this is to emphasize what I said before: no more time to lounge around and decide with no consequences. For every moment you waste deliberating today, the Oak King will be in the hands of my torturers, experiencing the most excruciating pain. Your delay extends that agony.” “Oh, irony,” murmured Dorian.

Life and death were so unpredictable. So close to each other. We existed moment to moment, never knowing who would be the next to leave this world.

Why are you hanging around, then? Aren't you worried about getting hit?" "Aw, you'd never hurt me. My face is too pretty.

if you'd teach me to swear in russian, i might have a new appreciation for it

Now get some clothes on before the women around here are driven into a frenzy." He gave me a mournful look. "I'm afraid that'll happen with or without clothes, my dear.

And after a while...I mean how do you choose? Who gets to live? Part of life is that...well, some people have to die.

Look who's calling the cauldron black." "Kettle. It’s a kettle. Get your metaphors right." "That wasn’t a metaphor. It was a, you know..." He stared off into space, blinking. "One of those things that’s symbolic of another thing. But isn’t the same thing. Just like it." "You mean a metaphor?" "No! It’s like a story...like...a proverb! That’s it." "I’m pretty sure that wasn’t a proverb. Maybe it was an analogy." "I don’t think so.