Amy

“It's not the hair. You just--you're something else, Claire. It's like when all the rest of us don't know where to go, you ... just go. You're not afraid.”
― Rachel Caine

“It hurts so much, she thought. Our children, Ned, all our sweet babes. Rickon, Bran, Arya, Sansa, Robb… Robb… please, Ned, please, make it stop, make it stop hurting… The white tears and the red ones ran together until her face was torn and tattered, the face that Ned had loved. Catelyn Stark raised her hands and watched the blood run down her long fingers, over her wrists, beneath the sleeves of her gown. Slow red worms crawled along her arms and under her clothes. It tickles. That made her laugh until she screamed. “Mad,” someone said, “she’s lost her wits,” and someone else said, “Make an end,” and a hand grabbed her scalp just as she’d done with Jinglebell, and she thought, No, don’t, don’t cut my hair, Ned loves my hair. Then the steel was at her throat, and its bite was red and cold.— Catelyn Stark”
― George R.R. Martin, A Storm of Swords

“Boys. I'd turn gay if they weren't so sexy. ”
― Rachel Caine, The Dead Girls' Dance

“I'm gonna kill him," Eve said, or at least that was what it sounded like filtered through the pillow.
Stake him right in the heart, shove garlic up his ass, and-and-"

And what?" (Michael)

When did you get home?" Claire demanded.

Apparently just in time to hear my funeral plans. I especially like the garlic up the ass. It's...different.”
― Rachel Caine, Feast of Fools