94 Quotes About Urban-fantasy-series

So the owner of a monster head wants to meet on a path named Nut,” I said. “That’s appropriate.

Insects crawled across my skin, legs skittering across my flesh, numbed paths of cold left in their wake. They were the creatures that heralded my ghosts, and I knew them well, yet the revulsion they caused in those moments far exceeded anything I’d felt before.

Oh, Moon, upon me shine-Give back his life, instead take mine.Send back his heart, return his breath.Please release him from his death.Give back his eyes, bring back his voice.I willingly have made this choice.Hand back his plans, restore his mind,I willingly grant you mine.Oh, Moon, Oh, Stars, upon me glow-Tell the river to let go.

The Redcliffe novels offer you the chance to look at strangers on the street and ask yourself, “What is their story? Who are they, really?

Being human was a lot more difficult than it looked. Demon was easy. Demon was simple. Human was…terrifying." Muse

It was a fact that had become the focus of my entire life, a whisper in my heartbeat, a permanent, insidious presence that punctuated my every breath. I couldn’t escape it, that persistent voice, lingering in the blood pulsing through my veins. It said only one thing, over and over, a repetition of inescapable anguish, the knowledge of a thing that could never be undone.James is dead. James is dead. James is dead. James is dead.

I found serenity in the towers, especially the highest, even in the midst of winter. The crows also enjoyed the lofts, and I habitually fed them.Often I held conference with the grotesques lining the summit. The gryphon was perhaps my favourite. I’d regularly sat beside them when feeling pensive, even before James’s death, one leg dangling precariously over the edge

Joshua had always been able to get away with things—things for which he should never have been forgiven. He was a lot like James in that respect, for while my husband had bought his grace with his brilliance, Joshua did so with his looks. I considered that a moment, before turning away, suddenly finding I could not bear to look at him for fear of what I might forgive next.

She stood in the snow, effervescent, all pale skin and blonde hair, clad in white and bathed in moonlight. She should have looked angelic, instead she looked like a corpse, freshly raised from the grave, frosted in ice and darkness, swaying precariously in a graveyard.