Laini Taylor

I don’t know many rules to live by,” he’d said. “But here’s one. It’s simple. Don’t put anything unnecessary into yourself. No poisons or chemicals, no fumes or smoke or alcohol, no sharp objects, no inessential needles—drug or tattoo—and… no inessential penises, either.”

“Inessential penises?” Karou had repeated, delighted with the phrase in spite of her grief. “Is there any such thing as an essential one?”

“When an essential one comes along, you’ll know,

“Right? I know. How much does your life have to suck to want the Apocalypse?”

“Dull sounds nice,” he said, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Maybe I can catch up on my reading.”

stay true in the face of evil is a feat of strength.

You know, I’ve always wanted to be a bath attendant. You should take me instead. I’m nicer than my sister.”

Tomorrow they will start the apocalypse.

Tonight, they let themselves look at each other, for just a little while.

“More like a nonexistent species,” remarked Calixte. “Men lacking both wombs and good sense.”

The end of wondering, he thought, but not of wonder. That was just beginning.

And that’s how you go on. You lay laughter over the dark parts. The more dark parts, the more you have to laugh. With defiance, with abandon, with hysteria, any way you can.

making sense, at making self. For what was a person but the sum of all the scraps of their memory and experience: a finite set of components with an infinite array of expressions