Good books make you ask questions. Bad readers want everything answered.

The world needed more fireworks- especially now that there was going to be a shortage of beautiful, useless things.

She looked at David closely, and the feeling was still there. She could see that his forehead was too high, that a small scar cut a white stroke through his eyebrow. And his smile was pretty crooked, really. But it was as if something had changed inside Tally's head, something that had turned his face pretty to her.

There was a species of middle pretty who smiled at everything: happy smile, disappointed smile, you're-in-trouble smile.

The flowers were so beautiful, so delicate and unthreatening, but they choked everything around them.

That Shay was in possesion of hand grenades was a comforting thought showed what kind of night this had become.

Hard work's a good distraction.