Marcelle

“Langdon watched the phone plummet down and splash into the dark waters of the Nervión River. As it disappeared beneath the surface, he felt a pang of loss, staring back after it as the boat raced on.

“Robert,” Ambra whispered, “just remember the wise words of Disney’s Princess Elsa.”

Langdon turned. “I’m sorry?”

Ambra smiled softly. “Let it go.”
― Dan Brown, Origin

“Her name is Nora Walker.
I don’t know anything about her, yet somehow I remember the arch of her smile. The soft river of her hair. The flutter of her eyes when she watches me. The scent of her skin like jasmine and vanilla. And when her lips purse together and she hums a song under her breath, memories I can’t possibly have pour through me. She is a name and a heartbeat that lives inside me.”
― Shea Ernshaw, Winterwood

“It's not appropriate," Tessa said to her husband, Will.
"He likes it."
"Children like all sorts of things, Will. They like sweets and fire and trying to stick their head up the chimney. Just because he likes the dagger..."
"Look how steadily he holds it."
Little James Herondale, age two, was in fact holding a dagger quite well. He stabbed it into a sofa cushion, sending out a burst of feathers.
"Ducks," he said, pointing at the feathers.
Tessa swiftly removed the dagger from his tiny hands and replaced it with a wooden spoon. James had recently become very attached to this wooden spoon and carried it with him everywhere, often refusing to go to sleep without it.
"Spoon," James said, tottering off across the parlor.
"Where did he find the dagger?" Tessa asked.
"It's possible I took him to the weapons room," Will said.
"Is it?"
"It is, yes. It's possible."
"And it's possible he somehow got a dagger from where it is secured on the wall, out of his reach," Tessa said.
"We live in a world of possibilities," Will said.
Tessa fixed a gray-eyed stare on her husband.
"He was never out of my sight," Will said quickly.
"If you could manage it," Tessa said, nodding to the sleeping figure of Lucie Herondale in her little basket by the fire, "perhapds you won't give Lucie a broadsword until she's actually able to stand? Or is that asking too much?"
"It seems a reasonable request," Will said, with an extravagant bow. "Anything for you, my pearl beyond price. Even withholding weaponry from my only daughter.”
― Cassandra Clare, The Whitechapel Fiend

“when you’re between two shores and no one can see you, you don’t really exist at all.”
― Robin Roe, A List of Cages