I kissed him once," she whispered. "Well done. What did he do?" "Um..." Deryn sighed. "He woke up.

But it's always taking a risk, when you ... kiss someone new.

Once you told yourself a story enough times, it was so easy to keep on believing it.

Haven't you ever known someone rejected by a lover, who, consumed by rage and jealousy, never lets go? They look on from a distance, unseen but boiling inside. The emotion never seems to tire, this hatred mixed with intense obsession, even with a kind of twisted love.

Irony is always the best weapon against fascism.

The Rusty Ruins were the remains of an old city, a hulking reminder of back when there'd been way too many people, and everyone was incredibly stupid. And ugly.

But you know what? It's not my behavior I'm worried about anymore. It's yours.