Jo ★The Book Sloth★

“Why are you still standing here?"
His uncle leaned back, peering out into the hallway. "I need you to come to town with me," he muttered.
"You're not on my schedule."
His uncle scowled. "I'm not what now?"
"I wrote out a schedule. You're not on it."
"Uh-huh. Can you fit me on the schedule?"
Bo grabbed the notepad off his night table and looked it over. "Well, let's see, maybe I could move-"
Grigori snatched the pad from him and tore it up, throwing the tiny pieces at Bo's head.
Bo stared at him. You don't think I made a copy?”
― Shelly Laurenston

“It must be nice to fly.”
“Is that sarcasm?”
“No. If I could fly, I would live in tree. Stare down at everyone . . . quietly hating them all.”
― G.A. Aiken

“Her eyes narrowed. "You're not going to kill me, skin me, and wear my head as a hat?"
Yep. He was entertained. And, no. It wasn't normal. Instead of answering her question, he asked his own. "Do you want me to?"
"Not really."
"Then why are you asking?"
"Because according to my father, many teachers, and quite a few anger-management counselors, I seem to lack that little internal device that stops things that are best left unsaid from being said.”
― Shelly Laurenston

“What are your qualifications for this job?” she asked. “I’m expendable,” I said.”
― Ilona Andrews, Burn for Me