❀ Minesha ❀

“Main characters never die in books. If they did, the story would be ruined, or over.”
“Everybody is a main character to someone. There are no minor characters.”
― Amy Harmon, Making Faces

“You love my art?"

Adam laughed. "Jesus, I tell you I love you and you're more interested with the fact that I love your fucking art? Yeah, Miles, I love your art. I love your smelly paints and weird concoctions and the way you run your hands throught your hair so it stands on end. I love your crazy-ass bird. I love the way you completely lose yourself so deeply in what you're doing that an atom bomb could go off next door and you wouldn't even notice. I love how you look when we've just made love, and I love when you're all pissy and cranky and yelling. I love this cottage and this resort and I love this room and I love your room. I love you." He took a deep breath and forced himself to meet Mile's eyes. "I love you. Do you...can you..."

"Moron," Miles said with a grin. He took Adam's hand and dragged him to Miles' own room.

There had to be six-no-eight-no, eleven portraits of Adam hanging on the walls of Miles' bedroom.”
― Rowan Speedwell, Illumination

“Consider ourselves fortunate."
Maldynado's jaw slackened. "How so?"
"Amaranthe's birthday is next week and, with our limited funds, I didn't think I'd be able to find her a gift."
"So, you're getting her...dead bodies?"
"Perfect, don't you think?" Books smiled.
"Most women like jewelry and flowers."
"Do you honestly believe she would prefer jewelry over a mystery to solve?"
Maldynado jiggled the key fob thoughtfully, then nodded toward the bodies. "Can we say one is from me?”
― Lindsay Buroker, Dark Currents

“I ONLY steal because my dear old family needs the money to live!”

Locke Lamora made this proclamation with his wineglass held high; he and the other Gentlemen Bastards were seated at the old witchwood table in the opulent burrow beneath the House of Perelandro; Calo and Galdo on his right, Jean and Bug on his left. A huge spread of food was set before them, and the celestial chandelier swung overhead with its familiar golden light. The others began to jeer.

“Liar!” they chorused in unison.

“I only steal because this wicked world won’t let me work an honest trade!” Calo cried, hoisting his own glass.

“Liar!”

“I only steal because I have to support my poor lazy twin brother, whose indolence broke our mother’s heart!” Galdo elbowed Calo as he made this announcement.

“Liar!”

“I only steal,” said Jean, “because I’ve temporarily fallen in with bad company.”

“Liar!”

At last the ritual came to Bug; the boy raised his glass a bit shakily and yelled, “I only steal because it’s heaps of fucking fun!”

“BASTARD!”
― Scott Lynch, The Lies of Locke Lamora