Quotes from Sarah Monette

It's like you got to have everybody's heart, and if they don't give it, you rip it out and watch it bleed.

Ivo sat and listened, the look in his blue eyes enrapt and I knew, though I could hardly believe it, that he was not bored or uninterested, that to him I mattered as I had never mattered to anyone in my life.

Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad' " is one of the scariest stories I have ever read,

He touched my face; I could feel the heat of his fingers, and this time I did not flinch away, although I was trembling.

I want to make love to you. Will you let me?

Faith Cowry turned out to be little, dark, skinny, bright-eyed as a wren, and not the least bit stupid. And despite what Estella'd said, she didn't strike me as absentminded either, just somebody who knew what mattered, and it didn't include showing up on time to meet Estella's low-life friends.

I wonder what they think of me in their world of light, deaf to the broken patterns around them. I wonder what stories they have invented, to explain me when I cannot explain myself.

It was an effort not to let my fingers knot together, but Malkar had taught me, via his own brutal and unscrupulous methods, to counterfeit a nobleman's poise, and the old instincts were not lost.

I can hear broken edges, failures, a great emptiness where there should be beauty. I can hear a faint, sobbing thread of song, running through the desolution like a tickle of tainted water through a battlefield strewn with corpses. It is all my fault. I cannot remember how or why, but I can feel my guilt in everything I touch.

When you are in my dreams, you have a face, and I know that face to be yours, but no matter how true they are, dreams are not real, and I don't know whether my dreeming mind has ever succeeded in catching your red face.

The darkness was crowding up around me, and, while I couldn't hear the Virtu any longer, I was becoming fretfully aware of something else, a noise like some vast heartbeat, only with too many pulses. Mélusine, breathing.

You put a guy who wants to control everything in the same room with a guy who'd rather walk into a bonfire than listen when somebody tells him not to, and it's your own damn fault if you're surprised when things get ugly.

The future is the events that will happen just as the past is the events that have happened. We cannot know the future until it becomes the past." "All right. Then what's the pattern?" "The range of possible events that may become the future. Given the past, there are only so many different directions the future can take. The landmarks in my map metaphor are those events hat have the strongest likelihood of occurring.

I understood him then, as tendrils of the violet-red miasma that surrounded him reached out hungrily toward me. He was not interested in my body, as I'd already realized; for Brother Orphelin, celibacy was not a difficult discipline. His lust was for secrets, for shame and guilt, for petty darknesses. More and worse, he was a sophisticate: his pleasure was not in the secret itself, but in the power it gave him over me, in his knowledge of what it did to me to know that he knew.

In a choice between committing an act of grievous heresy-possibly even an act of evil-and losing my brother, I had chosen to commit heresy. And no matter how much it sickened me, I knew I would make the same choice again.

The future felt like a herd of buffalo stampeding straight at me, and all I wanted was to get the fuck out of the way.

The spikes above Livergate were a cruel reminder that his life now depended on mine, and it was by no means a foregone conclusion that I would live to see sunset tomorrow.

Gentle reader, allow me to introduce Kyle Murchison Booth. You will forgive him if he does not shake hands.

His smile was unpleasant, the teeth prominent and yellow and wolflike. His smell was musty and sweaty at once, and I gave in and backed up a step.

I was whole again, clear-headed, vital and focused in a way I hadn't been since I was first learning magic, first learning to be free.

Every time you come, I have to think of a new adjective," you said. "Tonight, you are magnificent.

At dinner, Mr. Marten produced his elegant place cards and assigned us places with the arbitrary ruthlessness of a dictator.

It's a strange fucking world, and mostly the joke's on us.

Dinner was surprisingly pleasant. Ratcliffe's friends did not know what to make of his sponsorship of me, but he said something about archaeology and museums, and they fell over themselves in their anxiety not to hear anything more. When none of them were watching, Ratcliffe winked at me.