It was a single line amid a wall of hate. It barely made a difference.But it was a start—and that was all that mattered.

Etta gave Will a small, knowing smile. "Will, sometimes you have to love people for who they are, not who you want them to be.

We're close. I can smell their faint scent," Blake whispered.Kieran snorted. "That makes one of us. All I smell is dog shit.

How you spend your time when you are not working or studying says everything about who you are and what is motivating your life.

What would angel lips taste like? Sunshine? Marshmallows? Or something altogether different? Maybe buttered-popcorn jelly beans.

She looked over the colored boxes of smiling women holding plastic sticks. Why isn’t there a box showing a terrified teen?

She never looked nice.She looked like art, and art wasn't supposed to look nice; it was supposed to make you feel something.

Maybe the Society was right all along. From the very beginning, that’s what they called her. A time bomb.Tick, tick, tick.

Can you see the power emotion has to distort out outlook? Makes you wonder, did you have a bad day, or did you make it a bad day?

Orange?" He seems unconvinced."Not bright orange. But soft. Like the sunset," I say. "At least, that's what you told me once.

A thick, intense fog was rolling in from the ocean, which created long, strange shadows to form like creatures of their own kind.

And I know what people say about not listening to insults or how you should let stuff roll off you, but it’s not that easy.

You can't keep resisting my irresistibleness, Natara Stone. You'll give in eventually, and I won't quit until you do.

I’m sorry, my lady,” said Geric, rubbing his arm. “But I failed to force an apology out of the offending goose.

It was as if the news itself wanted to reassure me. Even Jack the Ripper himself had reappeared as part of the greeting committee.