Ck3 Quotes

To defeat a monster, you have to be twice as monstrous. To love a monster, you have to share your soul. —Lana Myers

Romantics always believe in revenge, because romantics love harder, suffer loss more painfully, and hold onto a grudge that has shattered their hearts. Their hearts are of the greatest importance, above all else—body, soul, or mind.

I love you too, Lana Myers,” he says so softly. And in that moment, I’m completely his. There’s no revenge; there are no deaths staining my hands. I’m just a girl in love with a man who’s destined to hate me when he learns the truth.

Expectation is the root of all heartache. —William Shakespeare

Just like that, I have my answer. And I watch with her as the Boogeyman dies by his own knife. At the hands of a woman. The hands of a victim. In a way, it’s poetic justice.

Eventually, good conquers evil, because evil works alone.

Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? —William Shakespeare

My body grew stronger and my mind turned calculated when I lost my soul to avenge my heart.

I’m so much worse and better than you. I’m the thing the monsters in the dark fear. And now I’m even the Boogeyman’s nightmare.

To do a great right, do a little wrong. —William Shakespeare

I have psychopathic tendencies, but I’m not a psychopath,

Mind fuck her even.

I totally did an evil monologue, for fuck’s sake!

Lana, I don’t expect you to be perfect. I think you are perfect. At least perfect for me.

I’m back, motherfuckers,” I say quietly as we pass the town hall. “And I’m going to make your life hell before I paint your town red.

Hearing it is processed differently than seeing it. The mind is more delicate to sight than it is to sound.

He’s everything I wish I could be. A hero. A hero loved by a monster.

I’m seriously considering seeing a shrink about this mindless obsession I have with you,” he mumbles, but his lips twitch with a smile before he pushes down his pants.

Voltaire said, ‘Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities.

The devil can cite Scripture for his own purpose. —William Shakespeare

Better three hours too soon than a minute too late. —William Shakespeare

I kiss him to shut him up, letting him feel how good he makes me feel. I kiss him for so many reasons, all of them tangled around one simple, innocuous little four-letter-word that holds more power than I ever imagined. I now know why my father could never move on after my mother’s death. He was a romantic. And a true romantic would never recover from losing his love.

Though she may be little, she is fierce.

I walked in and threatened a girl who has a sexual sadist sobbing on the ground.

Sheesh! We’re in the middle of Fucking Madhouse Hollow, on the edge of the woods, and you give a girl a heart attack?! Not cool, Bennett. Not fucking cool,” says the redheaded girl who knowingly drove the killer into town.

you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge? —William Shakespeare

And you smile for me like you smile for no one else.

Though she may be little, she is fierce. —William Shakespeare LANA

Can we talk about something normal?" she asks, exasperated. I turn to face her a little better. "Like girl talk? Girls talk about penises, right?" She grimaces. "Concidering you dismember them from bodies, I'd rather not discuss penises with you.

When he’s around, I don’t feel like I have to be so invincible. When he’s with me, I feel like I can just be cared for without being weak. Like it’s okay to be vulnerable, because he’d never use it against me.

I’ll start laughing if I try to fake remorse for that sadistic piece of shit.

It’s become natural to him to touch me and hold me, to comfort me even when I don’t need it. I never thought I’d have that easiness with anyone. I never thought anyone like him even existed.

Tell me something, Lana, what do you think happens when this is all over—if we even survive it. Do you think he doesn’t find out? Do you ride off into the sunset—the agent and the killer? I want to know what you think for real.

She killed a man tonight. A man almost killed her.

The man who has terrorized Boston for so long, and now DC, is just a toy on her strings. Who the fucking hell is Lana Myers.

Marcus’s last words to me were that we’d come back as avenging angels, and we’d make them pay. We’d do it together. But he didn’t come back.

And I'm yours," he says before he kisses me, swallowing the words I try to return. Mine. Just like I'm his.

If these are the repercussions of disappointing him, I'll never be good again.

He was a romantic. And a true romantic would never recover from losing his love.

Holy fucking ninja assassin.

I’ll paint the town red. Just like they painted the streets with our blood.

Because the mind is a fragile thing,

Then you wanted to kill him. He’s too good to die. He’s everything opposite of us. His light still shines. I hope they have fun with you in hell. You sentenced yourself there the day you targeted the only thing that makes me feel as though there’s still a soul inside me left to be saved. The only thing I love more than revenge.

In case you haven’t noticed, I go a little crazy when it’s been too long since I’ve seen you, and you give me a reason to want to live instead of just exist. You accepted every piece of me, and dealt with the scraps I could offer. And never complained.

And in that moment, I’m completely his. There’s no revenge; there are no deaths staining my hands. I’m just a girl in love with a man who’s destined to hate me when he learns the truth. And it’s devastatingly tragic; more so than any Shakespearian play ever was.

Those eyes find me when you walk into a room, like I’m the only person you’re looking for. You hold your head up when others would cower. You stand tall when others would fold in on themselves. Your strength is beyond amazing. And you always keep me guessing, which is my favorite part about you, as much as it is infuriating.

If you prick us, do we not bleed? If you tickle us, do we not laugh? If you poison us, do we not die? And if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?—William Shakespeare

Romantics always believe in revenge, because romantics love harder, suffer loss more painfully, and hold onto a grudge that has shattered their hearts.

Just like that, I have my answer. And I watch with her as the Boogeyman dies by his own knife. At the hands of a woman.

and you give me a reason to want to live instead of just exist.

I’m the angel who has come to take you all to hell.

i'm real, Lana," he murmurs. "and i'm yours," he says before he kisses me, swallowing the words i try to return. mine. just like i'm his. for as long as he'll keep me.

No,” she says quietly. “I’m so much worse and better than you. I’m the thing the monsters in the dark fear. And now I’m even the Boogeyman’s nightmare.

Hell is empty, and all the devils are here. —William Shakespeare (The Tempest)

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind. —William Shakespeare

Live to kill them all one day.

He came to kill a weak woman, only to find he was really the prey who ran into the lion’s den.

Sheep,” I repeat quietly. “Fucking baa.

It’s easier to pretend the words you hear are just rumors or lies. It’s not so easy to ignore something you can see.

I’m the thing the monsters in the dark fear. And now I’m even the Boogeyman’s nightmare.

The devil can cite Scripture for his own purpose.

Before I can answer, we hear Hadley through the door. “I put your bags in here, you horny fuckers. You’re welcome.

It’s everything I need and more. He’s everything I wish I could be. A hero. A hero loved by a monster.

My body grew stronger and my mind turned calculated when I lost my soul to avenge my heart. I guess that makes me a romantic.

and I kiss her like it might be the last time.

Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind.

I’m trying not to laugh at the irony of Hadley screaming and freaking out like he was the killer coming to get us…when…yeah…

The timing of our arrival is perfect. Halloween is just around the corner. There’s a reason I picked Myers as a surname.

Lawless are they that make their wills their law.

You sentenced yourself there the day you targeted the only thing that makes me feel as though there’s still a soul inside me left to be saved. The only thing I love more than revenge.

Do I scream and pretend to be inconsolable or terrified? I don’t like screaming. Hurts my throat. And acting terrified will be hard to pull off, because…I can’t remember how to be afraid.

It always feels like he’s sharing his soul with mine, helping it be restored, whenever he holds me like this. He did what no one else has been able to do in ten years—he made me start healing.

I’m the girl who takes on the darkest of men. Men who’ve done things dark and twisted to the weak. Men who preyed on the innocent. Men who thought they killed me when I was weak. Just like the women you’ve killed.

He leans back, his eyes on me. “Sometimes I think I feel Marcus. I think he’s right here beside us, keeping us from being discovered. Other times I realize it’s ridiculous, and that our luck will eventually run out.

My angel made sure he’ll never hurt us again. My angel saved me. She’ll always watch over me. She is right now. Laurel’s words slap me, and I slowly piece things together that don’t really fit. She. Laurel said she.

I hope they have fun with you in hell. You sentenced yourself there the day you targeted the only thing that makes me feel as though there’s still a soul inside me left to be saved. The only thing I love more than revenge.

How does a normal person act after being attacked by a homicidal maniac and miraculously killing him by fluke? Do they rock in a corner? Do they cry? I hope not. I can’t fake tears, and I don’t like rocking. Makes me nauseated.

I love you too, Lana Myers,” he says so softly. And in that moment, I’m completely his. There’s no revenge; there are no deaths staining my hands. I’m just a girl in love with a man who’s destined to hate me when he learns the truth. And it’s devastatingly tragic; more so than any Shakespearian play ever was.

So it’s empty, and this guy is a paraplegic coach helping disabled kids. He survived losing his mother at a young age, his best friend and boyfriend as a teenager, and he’s paralyzed now. Yet he’s the male version of Mother Theresa,” Donny states dryly. “And we’re accusing him of helping a murderer. I repeat: We’re going to hell.

Normal girls are hard to understand, because I can’t remember the last time I was normal. Normal girls spend too much time reacting to their actions. They take for granted the air they get to breathe, because they’ve never been deprived of those painless breaths. Me? I’ve already walked through hell, so I’m desensitized to all else.

Where are you going?” she asks as I jerk open the door. “To buy some lube.” “Too much information,” she grumbles as I walk out.

We wait patiently while she calls someone. “Hey, baby. Nah, I’m fine,” she says to…her boyfriend? Her kid? No wedding ring or men’s belongings around, so not a husband. “You still dating that pretty lawyer lady? The one with all the security at her apartment building?” She eyes us, as she listens to the person on the other line. “Good. Go stay with her until I tell you otherwise. Momma’s about to tell a story that’s been burning a hole for over ten years.

and you give me a reason to want to live instead of just exist. You accepted every piece of me, and dealt with the scraps I could offer. And never complained.

Then you wanted to kill him. He’s too good to die. He’s everything opposite of us. His light still shines. I hope they have fun with you in hell. You sentenced yourself there the day you targeted the only thing that makes me feel as though there’s still a soul inside me left to be saved. The only thing I love more than revenge.” Just like that, I have my answer. And I watch with her as the Boogeyman dies by his own knife. At the hands of a woman. The hands of a victim. In a way, it’s poetic justice.

Their hearts are of the greatest importance, above all else—body, soul, or mind.

When he’s around, I don’t feel like I have to be so invincible. When he’s with me, I feel like I can just be cared for without being weak.

There’s no revenge; there are no deaths staining my hands. I’m just a girl in love with a man who’s destined to hate me when he learns the truth.

good conquers evil, because evil works alone.

I may can pull off stunned or shocked.

We’re revisiting the profile. He’s a revenge killer. Not a sadist. Everything we thought we knew is about to change. We think he feels a kinship with you. He somehow knew about Ferguson and…your past,

I file away each bit of information, deciding to make a list of reasons why I should or shouldn’t tell the world who she is.

They stripped away my soul and left me devoid of any empathy toward the monsters in the world.

Can we talk about something normal?” she asks, exasperated. I turn to face her a little better. “Like girl talk? Girls talk about penises, right?

They took too much. Left too little. I had nothing to lose,” she whispers, the words barely making it to me. “Until him.” My heart thumps faster. Logan. She’s talking about Logan. “Then you wanted to kill him. He’s too good to die. He’s everything opposite of us. His light still shines. I hope they have fun with you in hell. You sentenced yourself there the day you targeted the only thing that makes me feel as though there’s still a soul inside me left to be saved. The only thing I love more than revenge.” Just like that, I have my answer. And I watch with her as the Boogeyman dies by his own knife. At the hands of a woman. The hands of a victim. In a way, it’s poetic justice.

I can tell she hasn’t let the gravity of the situation sink in yet. She’s too calm.

Expectation is the root of all heartache.

You accepted every piece of me, and dealt with the scraps I could offer. And never complained.

This town is crumbling within one day of his mind games.

The Boogeyman doesn’t have shit on me.