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“I wish people didn’t call them that. Trollsâ€� They aren’t mythical creatures. You can’t look up how to defeat them in the Monster Manual. There are no critical hits, no saving rolls. They aren’t make-believe. They’re real. And they’re assholes.”
― Whitney Gardner, Chaotic Good

“They just needed someone to hate. Someone to fill the endless hours of their empty lives. A villain to make them feel like heroes.”
― Whitney Gardner, Chaotic Good

“I can curl my hair and paint my nails and wear my hand-sewn summer dresses. I can roll dice and design costumes for heroes and flip through comic books. All as myself. Finally.”
― Whitney Gardner, Chaotic Good

“Chaotic good ones place a high value on free will: they always intend to do the right thing, even if their methods are haphazard and generally out of sync with the rest of society.”
― Whitney Gardner, Chaotic Good

“How are you still standing?" "Am I? I feel like I'm falling.”
― Whitney Gardner, Chaotic Good

“I know all their costumes by heart, and one day I'll be making-" "Costumes?! That's what you're into, their outfits? Oh God... you're not one of those cosplay chicks, are you?”
― Whitney Gardner, Chaotic Good

“I’ll do what is right no matter what I have to do to accomplish it. I’ll break every law out there if it makes the world a better place.”
― Jeffrey Calhoun, The October Amaryllis

“Shank off, you faithless skiv!â€�
“Then say my name,� Taein said as he rose and adjusted his coat. “You know exactly who I am.�
“You’re the Unkillable Kid—� The mugger said through a froth of blood, his squirming growing weaker.
Taein picked him up by the lapels and drew the mugger’s face so close he could see the broken blood vessels in his eyes. “Say. My. Name.�
“Taein,� Big said, and he burst into tears.

And Taein he was, after all.
He was the prince of purloining, scourge of the streets, survivor against all natural odds, reckless to the point of delusion. He was Taein, survivor of the BlackBlades, the Unkillable Kid himself, (or unkillable as far as he knew, at least), and if a good thrashing was all that could beat back the numbness anymore, even just for a few adrenaline-soaked moments, so be it. It was better to feel anything other than his usual state of abysmal emptiness—even pain—because that emptiness haunted him like a starving child, dogging his heels every waking minute, leaching through his very bloodstream as a hard frost crawls along a windowpane. 
He was Taein—terror of thieves, conductor of chaos, sweetheart of spite—and if brushing hands with death was all that could shake him halfway to life anymore, so be it.”
― S. A. Matey, Prince of Glass: Remastered