“I assure you; while I look like a ghost, I'm no spirit or demon. I'm nothing but a girl struggling to make her way in an intolerant world. I bleed, I love, and someday, I'll die.”

“Come on, Gypsy girl. I'm bleeding to death here, in case you haven't noticed. At least make it worth my while and kiss me before I die.”

“I think I'm a bit in love with these girls. They make me feel giddy. Like I haven't a care in the world. Like I'm fearless.Like I used to be.”

“Someday, when I'm awfully low, and the world is cold, I will feel a glow just thinking of you, and the way you look tonight.”

“What does she look like?" Sin asked."Like she'd look good on a mattress."Sin jammed her fists on her hips. "That tells me nothing, and aren't you mated?""I'm also a sex demon. I didn't go blind when I took a mate.”

“I feel like I'm in a film about a struggling artist who keeps getting up at all hours of the night to look at his big, blank empty canvas. And in a way I am. Except that i'm not struggling. I'm Hector Kipling. I might be getting up at all hours of the night to look at my big, blank, empty canvas, but I am not fucking struggling.”