Brenna Yovanoff Quotes
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They've called us a lot of things-- the good neighbors, the fair folk. The gray ones, the old ones, the other ones. Spirits and haunts and demons.
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I had only to remember that centuries before, men fell in battle for the daughter of Troy, that passions carried greater weight than decorum. It took so little to prove that human life and property are devastatingly temporary. All she had to do was lie down for a prince. They burned the city to the ground.
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The treachery of demons is nothing compared to the betrayal of an angel.
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Sometimes it doesn't matter how dark the world gets. You can be saved by the smallest thing.
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You presume to name those who have no name. We are pandemonium and disaster. We are the dancing, gibbering horror of the world.
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Her gaze was direct, full of a sadness so raw and crystallized that I could see the shape of it. It ringed her pupils in rusty starbursts, but she was grinning--this terrible, ferocious grin. It made her look like she wanted to tear someone's throat out.
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And that's all it takes to make you happy? You kill little kids, then go home and wait until it's time to do it all again? What the hell kind of existence is that?
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The Cutter leaned toward me, resting his forehead against mine. 'Fool me once,' he whispered, 'shame on you.' He pressed the bridge of his nose against mine, his breath burning the back of my throat. His voice was rough and furious. 'Fool me twice, and I will cut out your fucking throat.
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I don’t remember any of the true, important parts, but there’s this dream I have.
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I fell headfirst into a sinkhole of pretty things, and the world inside your eyelids is just as big as the one outside.
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There was a whole, sprawling world underneath us, filled with ugly, vicious, beautiful people. The line between the two places was thin, hardly a separation, and both ran on pain and blood and fear and death and joy and music. But for now, the sunset was enough.
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We're literal people, you and me. Whatever the most obvious interpretation is, that's our truth.
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All I want is for you to stand here and watch the people you love be horribly mutilated. Is that too much to ask?
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Their lead guitar sounded like what would happen if someone wedged a traffic accident into a blender.
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The town was its green suburban lawns, sure, but it was also its secrets. The kind of place where people double-checked the locks at night or pulled their kids closer in the grocery store. They hung horseshoes over their front doors and put up bells instead of wind chimes. They wore crosses made from stainless steel instead of gold because gold couldn't protect them from people like me.
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Don’t show anyone the true, honest heart of yourself or else, when something goes wrong, you might wind up rotting in a tree.
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I wanted to tell her that I loved her, and not in the complicated way I loved our parents, but in a simple way I never had to think about. I loved her like breathing.
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From the window, I watch the city and the freeway. In the distance, the sky-rises look like mystic spires, unbearably close and far. I want to pick them up and eat them. I want to scream out loud sometimes, but I never do.
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The simple truth is that you can understand the way you are. You can know and love and hate it. You can blame it, resent it, and nothing changes. In the end, you're just a part of it.
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The fear of God is nothing compared to the fear of tragedy and loss.
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The hours spool out like a ribbon I can't find the end of.
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You're pale and you're cold, and you reek like steel.
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She was the purest, biggest truth.
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But what Davenport had been born into had taken so much from her, leaving her with just the wickedest and the worst. Her father had given her life, and then taken every scrap of joy or freedom, and even now that he was dead, all he had left her with was a deep, abiding hatred for what she was.