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Y Quotes

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“You’re just like the rest of them,’ he says, ‘all the twinks and the art fags and the motherfucking bears. You guys, you go on about your rights and your freedoms, you cheer at all the parades, but all you really want’s the right to fuck some leatherman in a den on Folsom or spew your shit all over a bathhouse. You want the right to be as careless as any other white guy – any straight one. But you’re not any other white guy. And that’s why this place is so dangerous: because it lets you forget that.”

“You're just like your degenerate mother," Sienna told her and turned away to head back to the house. Until that moment, Brigid hadn't fought back. "How would you know?" she called out loud enough for the maintenance men to hear. "You never met my mother, you fucking psycho." Sienna wheeled around, a wide smile on her face, raring to fight. "Go ahead. Speak your mind. You'll be out on the street blowing strangers for Snickers bars by the end of the day." Brigid had heard enough. "Well then, I guess I have nothing to lose." She stood up and pushed her lounge chair to the side. There, beneath it, was a mound of soil she'd first noticed days earlier. She'd spent hours watching its inhabitants, marveling at the complexity of their world. She hadn't wanted to see the colony eradicated, so she'd covered it up with the chair. Now she placed a bare foot at the center of the fire ant hill. Thousands of insects accepted the invitation. Soon they'd formed a thick line that started at her toe and reached all the way to her palm. Sienna watched with amusement. "If you think I'm going to help you, you've lost your mind. You're going to get what you deserve this time." "Am I?" Brigid walked toward her stepmother. She felt each and every ant crawling over her skin, all of them waiting for her command. Suddenly aware that the situation was swinging in her stepdaughter's favor, Sienna took a few more steps back until she reached the edge of the pool. "Don't come any closer, you little tramp!" she hissed. "I'm not a tramp, you dumb bitch, and neither was my mother." The ants were everywhere now. Her face was mere inches from her stepmother's when she smiled, showing off teeth crawling with insects. "I'm a witch.”

“You're kidding, right?" Shane asked. "You don't need caffeine. You need sleep." He held out the last cup, and Claire realized she'd been wrong; there was someone else in the shadows. Deeper in the shadows even than Oliver had been. Myrnin. He looked completely different to her now, and not just because he wasn't crazy anymore. He'd remembered how to dress himself, for one thing; gone were the costume coats and Mardi Gras beads and flip-flops. He had on a gray knit shirt, black pants, and a jacket that looked a bit out of period, but not as much as before. All clean. He even had shoes on. "Yes, you must sleep," he agreed, as he accepted the cup and tried the coffee. "I've gone to far too much trouble to train up another apprentice at this late date. We have work to do, Claire. Good, hard work. Some of it may even earn you accolades, once you leave Morganville." She smiled slowly. "You'll never let me leave." Myrnin's dark eyes fixed on hers. "Maybe I will," he said. "But you must give me at least a few more years, my friend. I have a great deal to learn from you, and I am a very slow learner.”

“You’re kidding, right? The whole town will know where we are just by the idle on that thing.” He feigned a look of shock. “That thing is a 1966 GTO. It has a name, okay? It’s Mack—as in ‘to mack on women.’ I rebuilt it last year, and I was told the engine makes girls hot.” “Someone actually used those words? Is it true?” “TBD,” he said. “You’re goofy. Let’s ride in my Jeep. Its name is Jeep.” Quinn chuckled. “Kavanagh has a smart mouth.”

“You’re Korean, Hara. Even though you grew up in America. Even though you speak English and not Korean. Even though you feel like you’re different when you open your mouth. You are Korean where it counts. Here.” He draws a finger across the blue veins in my wrist. “The same blood that flows in me flows in you. My ancestors are your ancestors. Where you were raised and who you were raised by doesn’t change that. If anything, your experience makes you all the more Korean because what is a Korean but someone who has experienced loss and still survived?”

“You're letting me go?" He curled his upper lip, his expression painfully bitter as he took a step back from me. "Apparently... I never had a hold of you." He turned sharply, and without another word striding down the street into the dark. Braden never once looked back and that was a good thing. If he had, he'd have seen Jocelyn Butler crying real tears for the first time in a long time, and he would have known that I'd lied. And lied big. For anyone who saw me, knew they were watching a heart in the process of it breaking.”