“The police seemed to think I killed her, which is crazy, because I loved her like a thousand drops of blood dripping down a dagger.”

“I did love her, of course, but mostly because loving your mom is mandatory, not because she was someone I think I'd like very much if I met her walking down the street.”

“Okay, so she is crazy. I don’t care. I think I love her.”

“With the blood dripping from her lips, with her blood spattered white dress, and with her pale skin, she is just a horrifyingly lovely and a breathtakingly attractive sixteen-year-old girl living in Hell. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

“I like watching water drops drip off my eyelashes. Reminds me that I’m not the Desert of Love.”

“I may not be able to stop you from killing me to get your pound of flesh, Tristan, but touch me – ” She let her gaze drop to the bulge in his pants and spun the dagger in her hands. “And I’ll get my own pound of flesh with one swipe.” – Evalle”