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Truths are like spices. When you add some in, it means you have more layers to digest. You get a taste of things you were missing before. But if you add too many, life can become unpalatable.
My keeper has a new lock, but that doesn’t mean I’m trapped.
I’m a strong woman who’s learning to be independent, dammit.
His gaze is an order. Mine is a threat.
the master doesn’t like seeing fangs bared that he thought he’d muzzled.
Slade has encroached on me. On my emotions.
Misery may love company, but anger thrives on it.
There comes a point in your life when you have to choose between having regrets and the possibility of making mistakes.
“Oh Goldfinch, we’re just getting started.”
twenty-four pieces of me are left to wilt and wither in gilded grief.