“That was the deal with the really good-looking boys: they automatically assumed you were pining and panting for them and wouldn’t be satisfied until you’d had their babies, no matter how ugly their personalities might be.”

“Didn’t matter how much love you gave them. How good you treated them. How you gave them everything you wish to the gods you’d had, including respect. It didn’t matter how much you hated the life you’d been forced against your will to live or how hard you’d try to put the past behind you. They cursed you for surviving and judged you on a past you despised even more than they did. He and Nykyrian were the ones who’d lived in hell, and these assholes who had no understanding of the world dared to look down on them for it.”

“We have certain demons who are motivated by the smell of food. They tend to get rather violent whenever they smell it. I personally wouldn’t be caught eating anything because I would end up dead. You might not. But you’d still have to fight them, and since some of them are rather ugly and really, really smelly, it might spoil your appetite. Then again, maybe not. Doesn’t spoil Noir’s. I think it makes him hungrier, especially when he guts them. Sick, but true. (Asmodeus)”

“Genius or jock, it didn't seem to matter. Boys were born with a gene that kept girls, no matter how smart they might be, from understanding them.”

“When it comes to men, deal with them as they are, not how you’d like them to be.”

“If I was drunk, I wouldn’t be here at all. And really, this is pretty good for four White Russians.”“White what?” I almost sat down but was afraid the chair might dematerialize beneath me.“It’s a drink,” he said. “You’d think I wouldn’t be into something named that—you know, considering my own personal experience with Russians. But they’re surprisingly delicious. The drinks, not real Russians.”