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Sabriel
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by Garth Nix (Goodreads Author)
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Witch Hat Atelier...
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The Planet Constr...
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Jim  Butcher
“Karrin."

She looked up at me. She looked very young somehow.

"Remember what I said yesterday," I said. "You're hurt. But you'll get through it. You'll be okay."

She closed her eyes tightly. "I'm scared. So scared I'm sick."

"You'll get through it."

"What if I don't?"

I squeezed her fingers. "Then I will personally make fun of you every day for the rest of your life," I said. "I will call you a sissy girl in front of everyone you know, tie frilly aprons on your car, and lurk in the parking lot at CPD and whistle and tell you to shake it, baby. Every. Single. Day."

Murphy's breath escaped in something like a hiccup. She opened her eyes, a mix of anger and wary amusement easing into them in place of fear. "You do realize I'm holding a gun, right?”
― Jim Butcher, Summer Knight

Emily Brontë
“You said I killed you-haunt me, then! [...] Be with me always-take any form-drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”
― Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights

William Shakespeare
“I would not wish Any companion in the world but you, Nor can imagination form a shape, Besides yourself, to like of.”
― William Shakespeare, The Tempest

Lemony Snicket
“I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday.”
― Lemony Snicket, The Beatrice Letters

Virginia Woolf
“I am alone. They have gone into the house for breakfast, and I am left standing by the wall among the flowers. It is very early, before lessons. Flower after flower is specked on the depths of green. The petals are harlequins. Stalks rise from the black hollows beneath. The flowers swim like fish made of light upon the dark, green waters. I hold a stalk in my hand. I am the stalk. My roots go down to the depths of the world, through earth dry with brick, and damp earth, through veins of lead and silver. I am all fibre. All tremors shake me, and the weight of the earth is pressed to my ribs. Up here my eyes are green leaves, unseeing.”
― Virginia Woolf, The Waves

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