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Good intentions are only lies the weak tell themselves.

R.L. LaFevers

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R.L. LaFevers
Intentions
Intention
Weak
Lies
Lying
Tell
Good

More quotes by R.L. LaFevers

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You come to us well tempered, my child, and it is not in my nature to be sorry for it. It is a well tempered blade that is the strongest.
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One heart cannot serve two masters.
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He smiles then, and even though it is well past midnight, its as if the sun has just come out.
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We are all of us, gods and mortals, made up of many pieces, some of them broken, some of them scarred, but none of them the total sum of who we are.
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Every time he glances at me I feel it just as surely as if he has reached out and run his finger along my soul. It is all I can do not to smile at the sheer wonder of it.
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When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
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I comfort myself with the knowledge that if Duval ever feels smothered by me, it will be because I am holding a pillow over his face.
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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours, until Death do us part. Whatever that may mean when consorting with one of Death’s handmaidens.
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I am left with the conviction that an avalanche would be easier to dissuade than that man.
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God's Teeth,' he says. 'I was only trying to wake you. You were crying out in your sleep.' 'I was not,' I say, then look from his neck to my knife. 'When I tried to wake you, you stabbed me.' He sounds sore put out. and I cannot blame him.
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I am sorry,' he whispers. 'I am sorry I treated you so ill. I thought only to protect Duval.' 'It was not I who was poisoning him,' I say. 'No, but you had stolen his heart and I was afraid you would rip it from his chest when you left.
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You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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The body on the ground is nothing more than a shell, a husk, and I am filled with a sense of peace. Yes, I think. Yes. This is what I want to be. An instrument of mercy, not vengeance.
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When he laces his fingers through mine, my heart does its now familiar panicked flight, bumping painfully against my ribs. My shoulder twitches as if to pull my hand back, but my heart overrules it.
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Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.
R.L. LaFevers
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In the distance a wolf howls. Let it come, I think. Beast will most likely simply howl back, and the creature will either turn tail and run or fall into line behind him, like the rest of us have.
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However, there are those who deserve to die but who have not yet encountered the means to do so—we help them on their way.
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If he is smart, he will run. He is not.
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It is all we have left to us. And while it is more than I ever dared dream, it is nowhere near enough.
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