If you say a word, it leaps out and becomes the truth. I love you. I believe it. I believe I am loveable. How can something as fragile as a word build a whole world?
I have a theory about how she might have managed to pull off such a feat. It comes in the form of an equation: Love + Fear = Herculean Strength. It’s how mothers come to fling runaway motorcars from their children.
You could write your way into happiness. It might not be the happiness you’d experience if Eldric pushed Leanne from a cliff, but there’s a firefly glimmer in writing something that would please Rose.
I don’t mean to be ungrateful but if someone’s out there answering prayers, mine’s not at the top of the list
But witchy magic doesn’t listen to please and pretty please, and anyway, I didn’t really care. I only pretended to care because not caring makes me a monster.
Thoughts are strange creatures. They lead you from one thing to another. Sometimes you don’t know how you got from one to the next.
Meaning. If you’re going to die, you want to find meaning in life. You want to connect the dots.
Perhaps you should put your head down.” I knew this was the thing to do, although I’ve never fainted and I don’t intend to.
You can outrun your memories, but sometime, you will have to stop. And when you do, there will always be Stepmother, waiting to be remembered.
Secrets press inside a person. They press the way water presses at a dam. The secrets and the water, they both want to get out.
Now that’s true poetic irony. I rush into battle to defend the fair name of Rose Larkin, and what does she do but fetch Robert to stop me.
There are no preconditions for jealousy. You don’t have to be right, you don’t have to be reasonable.
Witches don’t look like anything. Witches are. Witches do.
It’s one thing if a person learns you’re a witch. It’s quite another if he learns you’re a murderer. I almost forget I’m a witch now that I know I’m a murderer—murderess, actually. Murderess sounds so much worse.
Yes, I’m shallow, I don’t mind admitting it. Perhaps I should admit that there’s no end to the depths of my shallowness.