“I looked to the window. Patch was gone, but a single black feather was pressed to the outer pane, held in place by last night’s rain. Or angel magic”

It was bad enough when i thought your ghost was haunting me; i don’t think i could handle the real thing.

Stop crying. You’re giving archangels everywhere a bad name.” patch to pepper

Kiss me in a way i’ll never forget. Kiss me in a way that will stay with me until see you again

I need to brush my teeth. And i need a shower.” he grinned, hopping off the bike. “now that is an invitation.

One more secret smile. One more shared laugh. One more electric kiss. Finding him was like finding someone i didn’t know i was searching for.

You didnt tell me she was so soft on the eyes, he said to patch, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He spoke with a heavy irish accent. I didnt tell her how hard you are on them either, patch returned, his mouth at the relaxed stage just before a grin.

It was a smile that spelled trouble. With a promise.

Violence doesn’t equal strength.

You want a blood relative to lead your army? Get marcie. She likes ordering people around. She’ll be a natural.

Love the hair. Love when its out of control. Its like seeing a side of you that needs to come out more often.

The truth is scary, but knowing nothing is crippling.

…I need a boyfriend. And to get a boyfriend, you have to look good. Doesnt hurt to smell good too.

You never know what you’re going to have to face, so you’d better be prepared.

I’m touched, rixon. A bomb. How elaborate. Why didn’t you keep things simple and just march inside my bedroom one night and put a bullet between my eyes?” nora, crescendo

Is everything a joke to you? I asked. He dabbed his tongue to his lip again. Not everything. Like what? You.

I can’t imagine why you’re so interested.” he shook his head. “interested? We’re talking about you. I’m fascinated.

I am troubled, immeasurably by your eyes. I am struck by the feather of your soft reply.

The feather was a thing, when I was a kid, we used to find feathers around the house, and whenever we found them, my mum used to say it was my nan leaving them around for us to find, so that was quite sweet.

Soft feathers cannot make a cruel bird kind.

Our wings are built from the feathers of failure.

She plucked a feather from her magnificent wings and dipped it in ink. She wrote poems bled from her scars guided straight from the depths of her heart.

The company you keep has a large influence on the situations you bring to yourself. Birds of a feather flock together.

It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds.

As the eagle was killed by the arrow winged with his own feather, so the hand of the world is wounded by its own skill.