The Magician King (The Magicians, #2)

by Lev Grossman

“Facci parlare contuo direttore del cazzo!”

He was like a baker, except instead of making bread he made corpses, and he wanted to make Quentin into one. He wasn’t even breathing hard. He jerked the sword out so he could go in again, right away, this time aiming for something more vital. Time to make the donuts.

You had to face yourself and deal with your shit, that’s how you got somewhere.

Ain’t this the fucking truth

Maybe this was one of those times when being a hero didn’t involve looking particularly brave. It was just doing what you should.

“I am like a ghost here,” she said. “A ghost among ghosts. A reverse ghost.”