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You can’t raise monsters and expect them not to be monstrous - I should get that on a t-shirt. Bit wordy though.
That was the downfall of arrogant men. Assuming women weren’t a threat to their grand empires.
twisted into something much closer to horror. “You’re always horny for my horn,” Church murmured, making me almost snort a laugh.
“Hey,” he snarled angrily, spinning me around and pointing in my face. “Mrs Potts is an insult to Brits. She speaks like Oliver Twist’s grandma and not a single cunt in this country likes her. And if they do, they ain’t a true Brit to me, they’re a cunt just like Mrs Potts is a cunt.”
And for some reason I liked that, the way the clouds hung there as a constant threat, the rain like a loaded gun it could fire at any moment.
laugh. “Why are raging motherfuckers so hot?” “Because nice guys will judge you if you ask them to choke you, a bad guy does it for free,”
"Vivamus, moriendum est," I quoted for her, not needing to look down at the swirling script which ran across my chest surrounded by the feathers of large angel wings to know it by heart. "My latin is a little rusty, big fella." "It basically means, 'let us live, since we must die.'"
Powerful men do have an unfortunate habit of thinking of women as being little more than a decoration for their arm.”
“You, Anya Butcher, are the fire that burns in my chest every time I look at you. You’re the passion which opens my eyes every time I want to blinker myself from the truth. You’re the breath of fresh air in my lungs which shook up a life which was always going to be stagnant for me. I’m a violent, honourless man and I was content to stay as such until you.”
you might wanna go have a word with your boss before he pisses himself because he knows who I am even if you seem to be about as aware as a house sparrow with a grain allergy, peckin’ away at the bird feeder.”
