Sing Sweet Nightingale Quotes

“I’m getting used to the fact that you find me incredibly forgettable.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Less than twenty-four hours ago, I had a family and a home and a dreamworld I thought was as close to heaven as you could get without dying.

I have none of that now.

My brother is dead. My parents threw me out of the house—again—with barely enough to fill a small suitcase. And my dreamworld? I was right when I figured that, if God ever did exist, he turned his back on humanity centuries ago.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Be direct and sure of the path you tread, but not so sure that you pass the paths better suited to your feet, brother.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“I look down, trying to see my skin like she does. Underneath the soft, cerulean-blue glow, there are so many lines it looks like a roadmap. I’m so used to the ruts and puffy scars crisscrossing my arms that I forget about them sometimes. They’re the legacy of the questionable talent that’s kept me alive as often as it’s gotten me in trouble.

The story of my life is written in the wounds on my skin. I just wish other people could read the story, too. It’d save me a lot of explaining.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“You know the phrase ‘hard to get’?” K.T. asks.

“Yeah.”

“Forget hard to get. Chasing Mari would be like Mission: Impossible.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“I see the glow before I see her. The orange light is so strong it’s hard to believe the house isn’t on fire, but when feet appear at the top of the staircase, I can finally see that the light isn’t coming from the house. It’s coming from her.

My heart beats so fast I can’t tell the pulses apart—it’s one harsh thrum inside my head. If I’m a Smurf, this girl is an Oompa Loompa. No. Not even. It looks like she walked out of a horror movie. She really is on fire, burning from the inside out.

I’m staring, but I can’t help it. Everyone would be staring if they could see what I see.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“After all the shit that went down with Calease, I hate sleeping the way some people hate airplanes. Or small, dark spaces. Or spiders. Or being on an airplane in a small, dark space filled with spiders.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“I tell myself I have time. But the itch forming along the back of my neck and across my shoulders says otherwise.

I hate this. It’s like I’m racing a clock ticking down to doomsday without knowing how much time I have left.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Holy shit. I’m a Smurf.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“What’s up with your friend?” Dawn asks after a few minutes. I doubt she’s asking about K.T. I follow Dawn’s stare and wonder how much she can see from this far away.

Mari is standing in front of the store’s nearly empty stone display and listening as K.T. points out the different types of stone.

“Her name is Mariella.”

“I don’t usually get a read on people unless they’re giving off some pretty strong vibes, but wow. That girl needs an aura cleansing fast.”

“Yeah. I know.” I look away from Mari, forcing myself to focus on the selection Dawn has laid out in front of me. “It’s a work in progress.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Hey, hold up!” I drop the pickax to the ground and jog after K.T. I pull a roundish piece of amethyst about half the size of my palm out of my pocket and hold it out. “Would you give this to her?”

K.T. tilts her head to the side as she takes the stone and examines it. “Pretty. Is it amethyst?”

“Yeah.”

“Why don’t you give it to her yourself?”

I shove my hands in my pockets and shrug. There’s no answer I can give that wouldn’t either sound crazy or be an outright lie. K.T. smiles and slips the stone into her pocket.

“All right, Romeo. I’ll go see if I can get Juliet to come to the ball tonight.”

K.T. winks and walks around to the front of the house.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“The light show when she picked up the statue was insane. Blue cracks spread from her hand, up her arm, and across her entire body in less than a second. When she dropped it, I thought maybe she’d seen what was happening and would leave the statue alone. Or throw it at me—it kinda seemed like she wanted to throw it at me for a second.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“K.T. stops dead in her tracks, her eyes locked on Horace’s car.

“Holy crap,” she mutters, eyes wide. “Is that a ’69 Camaro SS?”

I glance back at her as I unlock the door. “Yeah. You know cars?”

She shakes her head, her lips trembling. “Just this one.”

Her reaction is too strong to be normal. People don’t usually get choked up at the sight of a car. There’s something about this car specifically that freaks her out.

It takes a second for her to smile, but she forces the expression onto her face. “It’s my sister’s favorite car.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Glancing at the time on my phone, I cringe. Midnight. The witching hour. This was when Calease always came for me.

I hate midnight.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“My gaze lands on the digital clock on my nightstand as it flicks to 12:01 AM. Hours spent in Orane’s world, and one minute has passed in mine.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Don’t be stupider than you need to be, I remind myself. Remember Calease? The last glowing girl you talked to tried to kill you.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Near my feet is a glowing archway. The light is white and shimmery, like iridescent glitter, and it’s so tall the top nearly brushes the ceiling. Inside, instead of seeing the cement wall of the basement, I’m looking at evenly spaced wooden pillars and a reed-mat floor. Standing on that mat is a woman with curves that would make a Playboy model jealous. She’s wearing a long, butter yellow dress, and her white hair hangs down to her waist. She looks like an angel when she smiles at me, holding out her hands.

“Hudson, come with me.” Her voice reminds me of the breeze rustling through the trees near the lake. Soft and subtle and calming. “Let me help you.”

Did I die? Maybe the scratch on my side got infected. Maybe I’ve been slowly bleeding to death from internal injuries for the past week. Who knows? If this is death, if she’s what’s waiting for me on the other side, then fuck it. I’m letting go.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“What in the seven levels of hell did my son see in this place?” Horace asks.

We’re standing on the street on Thursday morning, staring up at the house, after taking inventory of the place. From here, I can see five different spots where the brick needs to be repaired and pick out where shingles are missing on the sloped roof. The porch sags, and the windows are dingy. But if I let my eyes go out of focus and ignore all that, I can kinda picture what the place might look like after a little—never mind—a lot of TLC.

“It has good bones?” I suggest.

“It’s got old bones,” he mutters.

I smirk. “Yeah? So do you. Doesn’t mean they’re all bad.”

He smacks my arm, but he’s grinning. “Just wait till you get to be my age, and then tell me how good old bones are.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“In the last three months, I’ve started having creepy dreams that give me a glimpse of the future. Or sometimes a portal will open up in the middle of the night and something will try to kill me. There’s no way to know which one I’m gonna get hit with each day. It’s kinda like playing Russian roulette every night with a drunk who hates you.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Horace’s eyes get wide, and he glances between me and the house. “Every time I think I got a grip on this crazy shit going on in your head, I realize I don’t know the half of it, do I?”

My eyes tracing the red trim of the house, I shake my head. “Not even close.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“Hudson looks at me, waiting for what I was trying to say, but no matter how many times I try, the words won’t come. My chest contracts, and panic knocks my thoughts into disarray faster than a tornado.

For years, I was silent by choice. Now, choking and straining and silently screaming, I actually know what it’s like to be silenced.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“I didn’t think you were real for a long time,” I confess. “I thought you were someone I’d dreamed up.”

“A dream worth reliving every night for ten years?” he asks, chuckling and slowly loosening his hold.

“For eternity,” I whisper, winding my arms around his neck to keep him close.

“Good.” He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. “That is exactly how long I plan on keeping you.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“When I look at Mari now, it’s like I see her in layers—the burning blonde with the ribbon over her mouth, the princess tearing apart a screwed-up tea party, the goddess wrapped in burning chains, and the girl who is somehow all those things yet isn’t aware of it. Who doesn’t even see the cliff she’s running toward at full speed.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale

“K.T. sighs. “If you mess with her head, I’ll personally hunt you down, but otherwise, good luck. If you can get her to talk, you’re a freaking miracle worker. Hell, if you can get her to actually smile, her parents might throw you a party.”
― Erica Cameron, Sing Sweet Nightingale