Thomas

“You’ve one mark on your record,” Tamas said. “You once punched a na-baron in the face. Broke his jaw. Tell me about that.”
Olem grimaced. “Officially, sir, I was pushing him out of the way of a runaway carriage. Saved his life. Half my company saw it.”
“With your fist?”
“Aye.”
“And unofficially?”
“The man was a git. He shot my dog because it startled his horse.”
“And if I ever have cause to shoot your dog?”
“I’ll punch you in the face.”
“Fair enough. You have the job.”
― Brian McClellan, Promise of Blood

“Take a drink every time you hear a lie.
You're a great cook.
(They say as you burn toast.)
You're so funny.
(You've never told a joke.)
You're so...
... handsome.
... ambitious.
... successful.
... strong.
(Are you drinking yet?)
You're so...
... charming.
... clever.
... sexy.
(Drink.)
So confident.
So shy.
So mysterious.
So open.
You are impossible, a paradox, a collection at odds.
You are everything to everyone.
The son they never had.
The friend they've always wanted.
A generous stranger.
A successful son.
A perfect gentleman.
A perfect partner.
A perfect...
Perfect...
(Drink.)
They love your body.
Your abs.
Your laugh.
The way you smell.
The sound of your voice.
They want you.
(Not you.)
They need you.
(Not you.)
They love you.
(Not you.)
You are whoever they want you to be.
You are more than enough, because you are not real.
You are perfect, because you don't exist.
(Not you.)
(Never You.)
They look at you and see whatever they want...
Because they don't see you at all.”
― V.E. Schwab, The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

“Time is a lot of the things people say that God is. There's always preexisting, and having no end. There's the notion of being all powerful-because nothing can stand against time, can it? Not mountains, not armies. And time is, of course, all-healing. Give anything enough time, and everything is taken care of: all pain encompassed, all hardship erased, all loss subsumed. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Remember, man, that thou art dust; and unto dust thou shalt return.

And if time is anything akin to God, I suppose that memory must be the devil.”
― Diana Gabaldon, A Breath of Snow and Ashes

“Doctor, what could you prescribe for Charlemund?”
The doctor looked down his nose at the unconscious form of the arch-diocel.
“Arsenic?”
“Now, really. Something to give him a quality headache and a great deal of memory loss.”
“Cyanide.”
― Brian McClellan, Promise of Blood