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You presume to name those who have no name. We are pandemonium and disaster. We are the dancing, gibbering horror of the world.

Brenna Yovanoff

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Brenna Yovanoff
Dancing
Horror
Name
Names
World
Gibbering
Pandemonium
Presume
Disaster

More quotes by Brenna Yovanoff

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Sometimes it doesn't matter how dark the world gets. You can be saved by the smallest thing.
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The things I had were mine and some of them were broken, but they were real. They were so very far from nothing.
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The simple truth is that you can understand the way you are. You can know and love and hate it. You can blame it, resent it, and nothing changes. In the end, you're just a part of it.
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The hours spool out like a ribbon I can't find the end of.
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But what Davenport had been born into had taken so much from her, leaving her with just the wickedest and the worst. Her father had given her life, and then taken every scrap of joy or freedom, and even now that he was dead, all he had left her with was a deep, abiding hatred for what she was.
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All great acts are ruled by intention. What you mean is what you get.
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People make decisions, and maybe you don't always agree, but those choices are still their own.
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It's strange, but seeing something broken is somehow worse when you can tell that it used to be beautiful.
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The treachery of demons is nothing compared to the betrayal of an angel.
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The world is full of unused corners.
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The fact is, the contest has always been invulnerability, and even when you win, you still lose.
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I fell headfirst into a sinkhole of pretty things, and the world inside your eyelids is just as big as the one outside.
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People do that sometimes. Change.
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I wanted it in the way you sometimes want to jump into very cold water, even though you know it won't feel good. I wanted to go numb. To see what it felt like to be someone else.
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That was the thing about being bereaved. People were overcome with sympathy. They did things for you without even considering whether or not it was the right thing to do.
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From the window, I watch the city and the freeway. In the distance, the sky-rises look like mystic spires, unbearably close and far. I want to pick them up and eat them. I want to scream out loud sometimes, but I never do.
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