ŷ������

“Don’t kill me,�� he sobbed as he lay there. “Oh God, please don’t kill me.��
“If you had let me finish,�� Skulduggery said, slightly annoyed, “you would have heard me say, ‘Come out, we’re not
going to hurt you��. Idiot.��
“He probably wouldn’t have said idiot,�� Valkyrie told the sobbing man. “We’re trying our best to be nice.��
The man blinked through his tears, and looked up.
“You’re... You’re not going to kill me?��
“No, we’re not,�� Valkyrie said gently, “so long as you wipe your nose right now.”
― Derek Landy, Mortal Coil

“Valkyrie smiled patiently. "I like how you do your make-up. Do you use a brush, or just dip your head in the bucket?”
― Derek landy

“Wow," she said. "It's like you're teaching me something and being all wise."
"You are not easy to get along with," Skulduggery said.”
― Derek Landy, Mortal Coil

“With riddles as black as coals, and answers as invisible as our past,
I can only depend upon the crest of the rolling wave I now traversed;
a romance worshiped only by the dreamer in us all,
a psithurism of trust making its way through the years of our ascension
to one day climb above the kaleidoscopic canopy of this mortal coil.”
― Dave Matthes, In This House, We Lived, and We Died

“Now the wind, which sings and weeps,
Down the dark road swoops and leaps.
Crow’s wings ripping through the clouds
Tear the heavens into shrouds.
Naked tree with shaking boughs
Black and dreadful mops and mows.
Morgan the Fairy sings and sighs,
Morgan sings and Morgan cries,
Morgan moans and Morgan weeps,
Down the dark road swoops and leaps
And within his dwelling creeps
Morgan the Fairy’s icy breath
Bring him to dole and death.
Make him drink from your black cup,
Wine of mulberry make him sup.
So his pain may longer be,
Long his spirit’s agony.
Fill his clothes with biting lice,
Curse his horse with stinging flies,
Crack his bones until he dies.
Strike his nerves with mortal cold
Rot his flesh with creeping mould
So his pain may longer be,
Long his spirit’s agony
And his body maggot’s fee.”
― Zoé Oldenbourg, The Cornerstone

“And the king could find no sleep. Not then, not now, and still he waits to this day in a shell of spent flesh... but they say he no longer dreams.”
― C.M. Hayden, The Stars That Form Us