LIBBY Hardel

“We are what we are, neither a good or as bad as others paint us. And what we are doesn't change how truly we feel, only how free we are to follow those feelings.”
― Melissa Marr, Ink Exchange

“It seems probable that once the machine thinking method had started, it would not take long to outstrip our feeble powers… They would be able to converse with each other to sharpen their wits. At some stage therefore, we should have to expect the machines to take control.”
― Alan Turing

“He looked down at himself and laughed softly. ‘‘My dark side dresses better than I do.’’ He stood up
and reached for clothes folded neatly on a table to the side as he loosened the tie on his robe. He hesitated, smiled, and raised his
eyebrows. ‘‘If you don’t mind, Claire . . . ?’’
‘‘Oh. Sorry.’’ Claire turned her back. She didn’t like turning her back on him, even with the cell door locked. He was better
behaved when he knew she was watching. She focused on the faint, distorted image of his reflection on the TV screen as he shed
the dressing gown and began to pull on his clothing. She couldn’t see much, except that he was very pale all over. Once she was
sure his pants were up, she glanced behind her. He had his back to her, and she couldn’t help but compare him with the only other
man she’d really studied half-naked. Shane was broad, strong, solid. Myrnin looked fragile, but his muscles moved like cables
under that pale skin—far stronger than Shane’s, she knew.
Myrnin turned as he buttoned his shirt. ‘‘It’s been a while since a pretty girl looked at me with such interest,’’ he said. She looked
away, feeling the blush work its heat up through her neck and onto her cheeks. ‘‘It’s all right, Claire. I’m not offended.”
― Rachel Caine, Feast of Fools

“All really interesting girls invent themselves.”
― Anna Godbersen, Bright Young Things