No Knight hoped to live a long life; they hoped for a good death.
page 18, To Clutch a Razor by Veronica Roth
Review: To Clutch a Razor by Veronica Roth
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Review: The Raven Scholar by Antonia Hodgson
Ruko had always wondered how his mother kept her face so blank. Now he understood. You had to open a hole inside yourself and let everything drain through it. The horror, the grief, the guilt. The love. Most of all, the love. Let it drain away until there was no feeling left.
Chapter Three, The Raven Scholar by Antonia Hodgson
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Review: Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil by V.E. Schwab
“For them,” he says, gesturing at the busy city, “age takes its toll in decades. For us, it is the work of centuries. And it is not measured in wrinkles or gray hair. Where others rot without, we rot within.” He raps his knuckles against his chest. “We are hollowed, bit by bit, as all that made us human dies. Our kindness. Our empathy. Our capacity for fear, and love. One by one they slough away, until all that’s left is the desire to hunt, to hurt, to feed, to kill. That is how we die. Made reckless by our hunger. Convinced we are unkillable until someone or something proves us wrong.”
page 214, Matteo, Bury Our Bones in the Midnight Soil by V.E. Schwab
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Review: A Witch’s Guide to Magical Innkeeping by Sangu Mandanna
Everyone knows that when something good happens, something you’ve dreamed of for a long, long time, you’re filled with this wonderful, dizzying, joyfun conviction that there’s nothing in the world beyond your reach. Everyone also knows that as lovely as that feeling is, it’s best not to let it run away with you entirely, because next thing you know, you’ve tried to do too much and you’re wilting on your sofa with two ibuprofen and the sort of headache that makes you feel like there’s a herd of elephants stampeding across your skull.
Chapter 31, A Witch’s Guide to Magical Innkeeping by Sangu Mandanna
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Review: The Will of the Many by James Islington
A fair system only works if there’s an unbiased means of assessing merit. When there is no pride or selfishness involved.
page 280, The Will of the Many by James Islington