Say it, ” I gritted out.“The High Lord of the Night Court is your mate.

And I wondered if love was too weak a word for what he felt, what he’d done for me. For what I felt for him.

So I’m your huntress and thief?” His hands slid down to cup the backs of my knees as he said with a roguish grin, “You are my salvation, Feyre.

If you were going to die, I was going to die with you. I couldn't stop thinking it over and over as you screamed, as I tried to kill her: you were my mate my mate my mate.

I was burning through books every day - stories about people and places I'd never heard of. They were perhaps the only thing that kept me from teetering into utter despair.

It had filled my time - given me quiet, steadfast company with those characters, who did not exist and never would, but somehow made me feel less ... alone.

And then things would be fine. Then I'd be fine.

Females and males watched Rhysand throughout the hall—and the shadowsinger and I made a game of betting on who, exactly, would work up the nerve to invite the High Lord home.

I’m thinking it would be very easy to love you. And easier to call you my friend.

The Court of Dreams. The people who knew that there was a price, and one worth paying, for that dream.

You do what you love, what you need.

Don't come to God because you have a problem

But if all of the evil in the world makes you think that there might be a devil, Chris, how do you account for all the good?

The idea that He would take his attention away from the universe in order to give me a bicycle with three speeds is just so unlikely I can't go along with it.

As far as military necessity will permit, religiously respect the constitutional rights of all.

A long habit of not thinking a thing wrong gives it a superficial appearance of being right.

How can you be of service to something other than your own ego and bank account, in a business that's inherently narcissistic?

Don't trust a guy who accuses you of infidelity. He's cheating. He's projecting. If you're living that kind of life, you think everybody else is too.

My heart is like an open highway...people come and go and sometimes they are just beside you and you dont know

Without question, the notion of the doctor as a legitimate fee-for-service entrepreneur, making his fortune from misfortunes of his patients, is old-fashioned, distasteful, and doomed.

The one thing I regret was that my work required an enormous amount of my time, and a lot of travel.