The Darkling would not hesitate. He would not grieve. His darkness would consume the world, and he would never waver.

He could have run, could have wept, could have clung to the sides of the skiff until the darkness took him, but he did none of those things. He stood unflinching before the gathering dark.

Maybe love was superstition, a prayer we said to keep the truth of loneliness at bay. (...) The stars looked like they were close together, when really they were millions of miles apart. In the end, maybe love just meant longing for something impossibly bright and forever out of reach.

Brum had warned Matthias that the world was full of liars, pleasure seekers, faithless heathens. And there seemed to be a concentration of them in this room.

He's a person like any other, driven by greed and blood and pain. You should understand that better than anyone.

So you know the best way to find Grisha who don't want to be found? Look for miracles and listen to bedtime stories.

If there weren't an all-powerful dictator and his monstrous horde to get to, I'd be opening a bottle of champagne.

I would make you my queen because I want you. I want you all the time.

I'd like to think of myself as delightfully complex.