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“I vow to become the change that might have been”
― Neal Shusterman, Scythe

“Marie couldn't help but smile. This girl whom she had not even wanted to take on in the first place had become her greatest supporter. Her truest friend.”
― Neal Shusterman, Thunderhead

“Scythe Anastasia was equally dumbfounded.
"You?" she said.
"No," Morrison blurted, "not me! I mean, yes, it's me, but I'm not the Toll, I mean." Any hope of strong, silent intimidation was gone. Now he was little more than a stammering imbecile, which is how he always felt around Scythe Anastasia.
"What are you even doing here?" she asked.
He started to explain, but realized it was way too long a story for the moment. And besides, he was sure her story was a better one.
The other scythe in her entourage—Amazonian by the look of his robe—chimed in, several beats behind the curve. "You mean to say you two know each other?"
But before either of them could answer, Mendoza came up behind Morrison, tapping him on the shoulder.
"As usual, you're in the way, Morrison," he grumbled, having completely missed the conversation.
Morrison stepped aside and allowed the curate to exit. And the moment Mendoza saw Anastasia, he became just as befuddled as Morrison. Although his eyes darted wildly, he managed to hold his silence. Now they stood on either side of the entrance to the cave in their usual formation. Then the Toll emerged from the cave between them.
He paused short, just as Morrison and Mendoza had, gaping in a way that a holy man probably never should.
"Okay," said Scythe Anastasia. "Now I know I've lost my mind.”
― Neal Shusterman, The Toll

“I should glean you right here and bring your heart to Constantine!"
"He'd probably eat it."
"Probably," Citra had to admit.”
― Neal Shusterman, Thunderhead