Best 21 quotes of Megan Shepherd on MyQuotes

And it was true, there were rocks and there was smog, but there was also stars. The city was like life itself: good and bad, pretty and ugly, kindness and cruelty all in one. But most important, it simply was. And that felt like a kind of magic too.

Apparently profanity had a way of making men listen.

A trip to the library is like coming home and going on an adventure at the same time.

Believing in nothing except the truth of Montgomery, who for all his faults was as steady as the sea, as honest as the sun. My eyes watered with unexpected tears, and I kissed him harder, desperately. It wasn't a happy ending.

Call it sentimentality. Call it curiosity. Just don't call it madness.

Dead flesh and sharpened scalpels didn't bother me. I was my father's daughter, after all. My nightmares were made of darker things.

Flesh, blood, bone--the body is only a container for who we truly are inside.

He pushed my back against the stall door, kissing me. Edward had tried kissing me, but I'd been so shocked I'd barely had time to explore how it felt. Lucy had told me stories of shady corners and sweaty palms. But this was passionate. Wild. Something I'd never known. "Have you kissed a girl before?" I whispered. He ran his thumb over my cheek. His eyes lingered on my lips. "Yes," he said. I thought of Alice, her pretty blonde hair, the split lip that made her so vulnerable. But it wasn't her name he said. "A woman at the docks in Brisbane. She didn't mean anything. I was lonely. It wasn't love." A prostitute, he meant.

He was a survivor, like me

I am a monster because I have too much of something.

No serum can vhange who you are. Nor should you change. Genius or madness--it al depends on who's telling the story.

Perhaps they never die at all. I quite believe that myself, and it is a comfort, don't you think? That there is a place where no one ever grows old?

She could feel energy thrumming in the prince’s movements, but it was tightly contained. Everything about him whispered control. Maybe that was the problem, she thought. Too much control made for a rigid heart. Hearts were made to beat steadily, yes, but they were also meant to tremble.

She'd loved Mada Vittora once. A twisted, misunderstood love, but even the cruelest forms of love were never lost without heartache.

Something breathing, something bleeding, something blue. It was time to cast her first spell as the Gargoyle.

Sometimes you have to embrace the darkness to stop it.

There’s dark magic there,” Luc warned. “Creatures who like the cold, who like girls who wander into their woods. Whatever you do, don’t let them kiss you.

The ways of men and women are such a puzzle. And I could barely decipher my own feelings, let along anyone else's.

We fly above the spectral shield that shall never be quite finished, but it's all right. We are our own prism of light now.

We’ve scrambled for our lives,” she said softly. “Now we have to scramble for our world.

What did she know about the Black Forest? Only what she’d been able to glean from the maps in the library and from Luc’s fairy tales: Castles hidden in glens. Trees as tall as city buildings. Wolves and stags and bears. Mad princes who drowned in lakes. None of Mada Vittora’s books described an ancient academy deep in the woods, a place where it always snowed, where girls wanted magic badly enough to die for it.