Cold walls do not a prison make, nor iron bands a bondsman.

You're one third bad intentions,one third pure avarice,and one eighth sawdust.What's left,I'll credit,must be brains.

Maxilan, darling." Locke raised one eyebrow and smiled. "I knew you were driven, but I had no idea you could smoulder. Come, take me now! Jean won't mind; he'll avert his eyes like a gentleman.

There’s no freedom quite like the freedom of being constantly underestimated.

You can knock down kingdoms on a whim. What you need is someone to make sure you don't get hit by a carriage when you cross the street.

They kissed for the sort of endless moment that only exists between lovers whose lips are still new territory to one another.

What kind of knife is this?” Locke held a rounded buttering utensil up for Chains’ inspection. “It’s all wrong. You couldn’t kill anyone with this.