Carmilla Mayes

“Storms make trees take deeper roots.”
― Dolly Parton

“Breeze strolled over to the table and chose a seat with his characteristic decorum. The portly man raised his dueling cane, pointing it at Ham. 'I see that my period of intellectual respite has come to an end.'

Ham smiled. 'I thought up a couple beastly questions while I was gone, and I've been saving them just for you, Breeze.'

'I'm dying of anticipation,' Breeze said. He turned his cane toward Lestibournes. 'Spook, drink.'

Spook rushed over and fetched Breeze a cup of wine.

'He's such a fine lad,' Breeze noted, accepting the drink. 'I barely even have to nudge him Allomantically. If only the rest of you ruffians were so accommodating.'

Spook frowned. 'Niceing the not on the playing without.'

'I have no idea what you just said, child,' Breeze said. 'So I'm simply going to pretend it was coherent, then move on.'

Kelsier rolled his eyes. 'Losing the stress on the nip,' he said. 'Notting without the needing of care.'

'Riding the rile of the rids to the right,' Spook said with a nod.

'What are you two babbling about?' Breeze said testily.

'Wasing the was of brightness,' Spook said. 'Nip the having of wishing of this.'

'Ever wasing the doing of this,' Kelsier agreed.

'Ever wasing the wish of having the have,' Ham added with a smile. 'Brighting the wish of wasing the not.'

Breeze turned to Dockson with exasperation. 'I believe our companions have finally lost their minds, dear friend.'

Dockson shrugged. Then, with a perfectly straight face, he said, 'Wasing not of wasing is.”
― Brandon Sanderson, Mistborn: The Final Empire

“They tried to kill me, Hellie,” she rasped as she slid into the dark. That means I get to try to kill them.”
― Leigh Bardugo, Ninth House

“Toxic people attach themselves like cinder blocks tied to your ankles, and then invite you for a swim in their poisoned waters.”
― John Mark Green