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“We may be peasants in comparison, but enough peasants can slay a dragon.”

“The money we charge is nothing to your kind, mere pocket change, but it’s everything to us. It will pay for vegetables and honest foods to feed my children. My children, sir, who will grow up in a world that you ruined, unable to eat properly ever again because bastards like yourself have hoarded all the meat and embargoed all the grain and raised all the prices. ”

“This is what we do, sir, and the entire reason the club was formed. We catch reprehensible pigs like yourself and take you one by one by one to slaughter. We cook and feed the rich to the rich.”

one can only dream

“Such a quaint look of confusion! Such an endearing stutter! Sir has a flair for the dramatic, I do think.
Let me spell it out unequivocally. You are here to be butchered, you scum, parasite, money pig, bank grubber, greedy bastard landlord, and useless pen pusher. For the first time in your worthless life, you’ll serve a higher purpose.”

love it

VREAU MY ATTENTION SPAN INAPOI SA POT CITI CARTI INTREGI NU NUMAI POVESTI SCURTUTE

“
You do not rest. You cannot forgive. You are not safe—you never were.”

yep

“They bury you at the bottom of the gardens—what’s left of you, pathetic and small and twisted so out of shape it hardly seems human anymore. The river, dark and oily, licks at the ruin of your flesh—at your broken bones—and sings you to sleep in a soft, gentle language like a mother’s lullabies, whispering of rest and forgiveness, of a place where it is forever light, forever safe.”

first person pov is DESPICABLE I HATE IT DESPISE IT and it makes for a bad book (for me) ughhhh

“Do you know how much I love you? says Danny.
And she is falling away from that memory, falling back to the table, even as her last words echo: I love you too. More than anything.…”

“But maybe that is not it, either. Sometimes she thinks she is going mad. Danny is long gone, and these pastries are normal pastries done by a normal pastry chef, their memories some collective dream that she convinces the nobles to believe in, once a week.”

“ Her moment has come, her moment has gone.”

“To have something worth remembering, you have to live first, says Danny, and then he looks sadly at his flour-dusted arms, knowing that he only runs a bakery.”

“Yes, Rosie has changed. Or no, not changed, perhaps, but grown up. Matured into something that was there all along.”

“There is an art to knowing what people need. Oh, they would all take the flatbread if they could, but do they need it?”

“I see my own face first, full of wrath, and then the little girl who I once was and will be again.
“Rise,” I say, and then I tell her what she has wanted to hear all her life: that someone, somewhere, needs her. That she is not nothing.”

“I know him, and in knowing him I love him, and in loving him I cannot do as he wishes.”

“That I have lived and killed and lived again in the name of a man who does not deserve it because I wanted so badly to be beloved.”

“You were a shrike, a leopard, a plague, a thing that lived only to kill. You belonged not to yourself but to your Prince—your King, your Emperor.”

“Your squire had been nothing once, just like you—a sniveling shadow, too insignificant even to merit a name. But over the years he had become so vital to you, so dear, that you gave him one. Gwynne, you called him, because it was beautiful and so was he. ”

“This time, when I speak to the girl in the water, my eyes are the faded color of the sky after rain, and I am weeping. I hardly know why. Perhaps I sense, in the hazy way of an early memory, that I will never grow old, will never see my squire again.
Perhaps any tool, used hard enough and long enough, begins to fail.”

“You were angry, and because it was a crime to be angry at your Emperor and a sin to be angry with me, you were angry with him. You wanted to shout at him, but your throat had closed too tightly to speak, and in the end, you never answered.”

“ “The Prince takes much from you.”
You lifted one shoulder. “He made me, my friend.” You had asked your squire’s name once, but he’d said he was never given one. You filled the absence with other words, none of which described what he was to you. “He—he loves me.”
Your squire watched you carefully. His eyes landed on every pink scar, every old injury that still ached. “Is this love?”.

“and then he fists his hand in my hair, pushes my face down into the pool, and holds it there.
If he were my enemy, I would throw my skull back and break the fine bridge of his nose. I would pull him down under the water and choke the life from him, one handed.
But he is my King, and I am his Devil. I have given him my blood, my youth, my love, my good right hand; who am I now to begrudge him my death?”

“And it was only then, when you saw your own gory, blue-eyed face, bright hair hidden beneath rusted mail, that you understood who you were and who they were. You saw yourself as an unholy triptych, three into one, one into three: she the girl, you the Devil, and I the Saint. And you understood, finally, that there had never truly been a she or a you but only a terrible, lonely I.”

“ “Do you remember the first time your Saint came to you? The words she spoke?”
“Yes,” you whispered. As if you could forget the moment your life began, the moment you were dragged out from the shadows and into the scorching light of your Prince.”

“He rested his hand lightly on the crown of your head, rings clinking on the iron of your hood. “My Devil,” he said, and there was nothing you would not do for him when he spoke in this voice: fond, fatherly, full of love.”

worst feeling when you watch it from retrospect

“The Prince visited the yard often, watching you with that wolfish hunger, and you worked harder for him so that you might become the thing he needed so badly.”

this bitch and her loooong love confession NO ONE CARES

“Magnus felt about Jace the way he had felt about many Shadowhunters over the years, Fairchilds and Herondales and Carstairs and others: fondness and faint exasperation. ”

l

“Will you bring me one of those cat calendars of which I have grown fond? I would like to decorate the cottage.”
“There are actually other kinds of calendars. Ones with otters and rabbits and puppies,” Mark said, grinning.
Looking beatific, Kieran tipped his head back to see the stars. “This is truly a land of marvels.”
Cristina gazed at them both, her heart so full of love it hurt. “It truly is.”