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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.

R.L. LaFevers

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R.L. LaFevers
Many
Made
Scarred
Mortals
Gods
Total
None
Broken
Pieces

More quotes by R.L. LaFevers

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There is no shame in scars, Ismae.
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You are not my nursemaid. Remember, I am rescuing you.
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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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People hear and see what they expect to hear and see.
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He does not start guiltily, as he should, but frowns in annoyance. Who are you? I slip my hand through the slit of my overskirt, and my fingers close around the hard wood of the crossbow tiller. Vengeance, I say softly.
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He barks out a laugh. My little rebel.
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Perhaps that is because you mistake death for justice, and they are not the same thing at all.
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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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Whenever you are ready, or if you never are, my heart is yours.
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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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Hate cannot be fought with hate. Evil cannot be conquered by darkness. Only love has the power to conquer them both.
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The pain of hope dying is worse than his fists and boots.
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For all that I have kissed before, I have never felt anything like this. It is as if I have swallowed a tiny piece of the sun, its warmth and light reaching into every corner of my soul and chasing away the shadows. I surrender to that kiss - surrender to the strength and the courage and the sheer goodness of the 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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One heart cannot serve two masters.
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And so it is with us we serve as handmaidens to Death. When we are guided by His will, killing is a sacrament.
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Why be the sheep when you can be the wolf?
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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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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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When one consorts with assassins, one must expect to dance along the edge of a knife once or twice.
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