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Quote by Shannon Messenger

“[Keefe’s] smile softened into something that made Sophie’s cheeks warm. And her heart seem to trip over itself as he leaned close and carefully pinned Krakie to the back of her hand, right in the center. His palm rested over her is when he finished, and she got the sense that there was something he wasn’t saying. But then his eyes skipped past her, landing on Fitz for a beat before he shifted his focus.”

Quote by Shannon Messenger

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Shannon Messenger

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“I’m sure Keefe won’t mind letting you join our skill lessons, though,” she suggested. Fits snorted. “Great.” “Aw, it’s not so bad. I know, it sounds like it’d be a disaster. But... the lessons have actually been pretty awesome. I think I might’ve had a meltdown without them- but don’t ever yell him I said that, okay. He’ll start wearing tunics that say Fosters Hero or something.” “Sounds about right,” Fitz mumbled. His eyes drifted to her hands and she realized she was fidgeting with the pins Keefe had given her. “Well... I’m glad he’s been there for you,” he said quietly. “Me too.”

“She studied the relaxed lines of his features. The soft flutter of his long, dark eyelashes. The adorable way his arms cradled Mrs. Snuggles against his bandaged chest. I don’t know what to do. She hadn’t meant to transmit the words, but... it felt good to say them. And it was like like he could hear her. He hadn’t even flinched. His breathing hadn’t changed rhythm. So she told him, I really wish you were awake. He let out a snuffly snore, which gave her the courage to ask, What if I just want you to wake up because I’m tired of fighting the echoes all by myself? That wasn’t the right question, though. What if I want you to wake up because I miss you? She’d been trying to stay busy, trying not to look at the beautiful boy sleeping over in the corner. She hated having him so close and still so far away. And when she turned to Fitz, his eyes were more than fluttering. One blink. Two. Three. And then... they stayed open.”

“What I was still out of it, I heard your voice in my head- I think it’s why I woke up.” Her face tried its best to burst into flames. “Sorry, I-“ “Don’t be,” he interrupted. “I’m glad I’m awake.” “So am I,” she admitted. “But... you have to be super careful, okay?” “I will if you will,” he made her promise. He waited for her to meet his eyes, and when she did, he gave her the sweetest smile she’d ever seen. “By the way,” he murmured, pressing Mr. Snuggles against his heart. “I missed you too.”

“...the priests of all these cults, the singers, shouters, prayers and exhorters of Bootstrap-lifting have as their distinguishing characteristic that they do very little lifting at their own bootstraps, and less at any other man's. Now and then you may see one bend and give a delicate tug, of a purely symbolical character: as when the Supreme Pontiff of the Roman Bootstrap-lifters comes once a year to wash the feet of the poor; or when the Sunday-school Superintendent of the Baptist Bootstrap-lifters shakes the hand of one of his Colorado mine-slaves. But for the most part the priests and preachers of Bootstrap-lifting walk haughtily erect, many of them being so swollen with prosperity that they could not reach their bootstraps if they wanted to. Their role in life is to exhort other men to more vigorous efforts at self-elevation, that the agents of the Wholesale Pickpockets' Association may ply their immemorial role with less chance of interference.”