Crimson Moth Quotes

Some people are determined to live out their own personal tragedies.

The hunted had fallen for the hunter.

You are not the things that happened to you, Gideon.

I may not know Rune Winters, but I know the Crimson Moth. And she is no caged thing.

But which character was she—the heroine, the villain, or the fool? The fool.

If this was weakness, he wanted to be weak. If this was sin, let him be damned to hell.

Your laugh is like a fuse,” he said. “It lights you up.” Rune’s heart thudded. No one had ever told her that before.

Every time Gideon looked at the young heiress, she reminded him of the sea: steal-your-breath beautiful on the surface, with the promise of untold depths beneath.

In forgiving him, a strange thing happened: Rune found forgiveness for herself, too. For what she’d done to Nan. The thing she’d needed all this time was right there inside her.

She was like a deer making eyes at the wolf that wanted to eat her for lunch. Stupid deer.

To play by the rules when everyone else disregards them—that is foolishness.

The point is to let me give you this one small thing, because I couldn’t give you the rest.

One of us thinks ourself too good for the other. But it’s not me.

I hate you, Gideon Sharpe. I hate you so much, it hurts. And if you don’t open this door, i”ll go on hating you forever...

It was almost as if he were a weapon specifically designed to compromise her.

Rune was a deer, and he was a hunter. Taking her measure, noting every detail and flaw, trying to decide if she would be worth the hunt.

They see us as a contamination of what is natural and good. They fear our magic the way they fear disease.

Gideon was her perfect rival; a deadly enemy to outwit. Without him, Rune could only be half of her full potential. It was why, deep down, she wanted him to come for her. She ached for the challenge of him. She needed to finish what lay unfinished between them.

I’m in love with him. Instead of getting Gideon Sharpe out of her system tonight, Rune had gone and gotten herself addicted. The hunted had fallen for the hunter.

His gentleness snuck past her defenses, unlocking the deadbolts inside her. Letting the enemy in.

Live in the darkness too long, and eventually you won't recognize the light. You'll become like the monsters you hate.

Just remember: a great leader weighs the consequences of every decision, and must bear the weight of those consequences. So ask yourself: which consequences can you live with?

You are not the things that happened to you.

Sparing the life of someone you hate doesn't make you weak, it makes you better than the rest of us.

What things there are to write, if one could only write them! My mind is full of gleaming thoughts; gay moods and mysterious, moth-like meditations hover in my imagination, fanning their painted wings. They would make my fortune if I could catch them; but always the rarest, those freaked with azure and the deepest crimson, flutter away beyond my reach.

Are you so determined to misunderstand me?

And after we’re done fighting, I’ll take you to bed, and we’ll reconcile. In fact, I think we should fight every day just so we can make up every night.

It might look like weakness on the surface. But in truth, it’s tougher than steel. Love can’t be controlled. Love can’t obey unjust laws. Love will always oppose tyrants.

I’d rather fight with you than do most other things.

You are far worse than a thorn in my side,” he said, his dark eyes gleaming at her. “You are a knife in my heart.

Did a person change depending on their circumstances? Or was there something permanent about everyone? Something steadfast and true, despite their circumstances?

The mad head of the house was rotting, and night was dragging her wings across the moon, tracing filigree on the floors. In the attic, more black moths were dancing because it was cold, because it was dark. Because they were hungry. For the butterfly.

His name on her lips sent a tremor through him. His hands clenched. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer.

You have never been more beautiful than this moment.

The problem with love is the more you try to destroy it, the stronger it becomes. It might look like weakness on the surface. But in truth, it's tougher than steel. Love can't be controlled. Love can't obey unjust laws. Love will always oppose tyrants. Love is the real enemy of the regime, and that's why you despite it. It's why Cressida tries to crush it. Because you both know, deep down, it has the power to topple you.

Sitting on Rosa's moth-littered bed, he felt a resurgence of all the aches and inspirations of those days when his life had revolved around nothing but Art, when snow fell like the opening piano notes of the Emperor Concerto, and feeling horny reminded him of a passage from Nietzsche, and a thick red-streaked dollop of crimson paint in an otherwise uninteresting Velazquez made him hungry for a piece of rare meat.

she reminded him of the sea: steal-your-breath beautiful on the surface, with the promise of untold depths beneath.

For a girl who hates reading, you own a lot of books.

At least she likes it when I touch her.

My name is Wisdom." Her voice rang like a drawn blade. "And I've waited a long time for this.

It's been a honor, Captain," she whispered against his lips. Gideon let out a soft cry, but he didn't fail her. Pulling the trigger, he sent a bullet straight into her heart.

But it wasn’t only her physical attributes that had him spinning. It was her kindness. Her thoughtfulness. Her wildness. It was her willingness to argue with him. If he wasn’t careful, he might fall in love with her.

You want the truth?” Her own hurt bubbled up, like steam from a volcano ready to erupt. “This is the truth: I would have married you in a heartbeat, had you asked me. I would have married you knowing you would hand me over to my killers—or kill me yourself—the moment you found out what I was. That’s how pathetic I am, Gideon! That’s how desperately I wanted to be yours!

The way you make me feel is …” She hugged the bundle of clothes tighter. “I’m afraid it’s something I could get used to. Something I could need.

Of all the boys in the world, why did she have to fall in love with the one who could never, ever love her back?

His kisses continued, increasing in urgency, trailing over her skin. Was this real, or were they still pretending?

Isn’t that the point of art—to tame the monsters in us?

It was why Rune never cut herself. She couldn’t afford to let them find the scars.

Pressing a hand to Gideon's heart, Rune whispered: "Come find me in the next world." And then Death found her.

Rune has been out rescuing witches all night. They say the Crimson Moth only works beneath the cover of darkness.

Somewhere beneath the fear was the girl he loved. A girl who stared down danger with a smile and a knife. His brave, clever Crimson Moth.

She was the Crimson Moth. A rebel witch.

I remember the sound of your laugh,” he said as the back door of the house came into view. “It pulled me like a magnet toward the beach, where I found the most beautiful girl in the world standing on the shore.” Rune’s footsteps slowed as they approached the door. His stopped altogether. “When I saw Alex at your side, I knew exactly who you were: Rune Winters. The girl Alex never shut up about. A girl who was entirely off-limits, because my little brother found her first.

The first touch of our lips behind crimson drapes. The touch that should have been impossible. A collision of worlds, born of chaos and breaking, that had somehow been quiet as a moth taking flight.

Sometimes our paths must diverge from those we love,” Antonio said as they rode, side by side, scanning the surrounding mountains. “But if love is the highest power, our paths will converge again—if not in this world, then the next.

She'd forgotten the thrill of it. How it made her feel untouchable. Invincible. I am the Crimson Moth. It was the answer to her oldest question. You are the kindest, cleverest, bravest girl I've ever met. This was Rune Winters. This girl. In this moment.

Rune’s nose prickled. One of these days, she would gently suggest to her friend not to dab so much perfume on …

Only fools believed in happy endings.

He escaped what the rest of us could not.

Rune had told Gideon that buttercups were her favorite flower, and instead of picking some, he sewed them for her. Had he stayed up all night doing so?

Was there some flaw in Gideon that made him so naive? So susceptible to deception?

If I didn't have to hide myself, who would I be?

People who loved you didn’t plot to betray you.

We both know what you want to do to me, Gideon. Well, here’s your chance.” His gaze slid to her mouth. “You have no idea, the things I want to do to you.

I think someone broke her." "Ah, anything else?" "I'm afraid I won't be able to put her back together." "You can't put her back together. Only she can do that.

Because I was stupid enough to fall in love with a witch hunter. Stupid enough to hope he might love me back. And if he did, I wasn't going to let anything come between us again.

If I didn’t have to hide myself, she thought, who would I be?

His eyes blackened. “Who did this to you?

When a witch drew blood by cutting her skin, the magic used to cast a spell discolored the scar, turning it silver. It was why casting scars were considered beautiful during the Reign of Witches.

I’ve had better,” he said, staring Harrow down. “You were right; it was no chore. But I’m not about to repeat the endeavor anytime soon.” The lie sank inside him like poison. “She’s a pretty face, nothing more.

IT WAS UNNATURAL, THE way he wanted her. Like nothing else in the world mattered more than bringing her upstairs, peeling her out of those riding leathers, and guiding her down to the bed. Like nothing mattered more than her.

Of course he was tempted. A life with Rune? It was worth everything. Which was precisely why he needed to stay and fight. This was where they both belonged. He wanted to save it-for her, for them, more than anyone. Anything less, and he would never be the man she deserved.

This is the truth: I would have married you in a heartbeat, had you asked me. I would have married you knowing you would hand me over to my killers—or kill me yourself—the moment you found out what I was. That’s how pathetic I am, Gideon! That’s how desperately I wanted to be yours!

He’d spent the last two hours making it for her, feeling slightly ill as he sewed every petal. Roses always brought the painful memories rushing back. But Harrow’s advice—to woo Rune—kept ringing through his head, and his mother could never resist the silk roses his father used to make her after they argued.

I would have married you in a heartbeat, had you asked me. That’s how desperately I wanted to be yours. He thought of Rune in the steam, eyes bright, face flushed, hair coming undone. He’d wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and kiss her. To tell her with his mouth and hands what he couldn’t say with his words.

That is my hope for you, dear reader. It’s the same hope I had for Rune at the beginning of her story. (And for myself, in a way.) I hope you stop caring so much about the opinions of others and allow yourself to live. I hope you find the courage to be unapologetically yourself and start making your life—and maybe even the world—what you and the ones you love need it to be.

I don’t know how to dance to your songs,” he said. “I don’t have the esteem of your friends. I don’t use seventeen pieces of silverware at dinner.” He let go of her hair, and it billowed out, catching in the wind once more. “I have no means of expanding your inheritance.” He knew he was walking a fine line, reminding her of the reasons they made no sense. That this charade they were playing was a weak one. But if the goal was to be vulnerable, to entice her to be vulnerable, too, he needed to speak the truth. “People like you are impossible,” she said. “I don’t care about those things.” He almost rolled his eyes. “Of course you do.” “Then why are we here? If I’m so shallow—all trappings and no substance—what are you doing with me? Why would someone like you want someone like me?” Gideon opened his mouth to respond, only he didn’t know the answer. He studied her, hair ablaze in the setting sun. Gray eyes like molten steel.

Some desperate emotion flashed across Alex’s face, and guilt settled like a stone in Gideon’s gut. Alex’s hands dropped to his sides. “People like Rune don’t end up with people like you.” The guilt evaporated. Gideon knew precisely what Alex meant. People like him were damaged. Dirty. People like him didn’t belong in the ballrooms of people like Alex and Rune. His fists coiled. “That so?” “Yes.” Alex’s golden eyes flashed like electricity. “Enlighten me. What type of people do girls like Rune end up with? Men like you?” Gideon raised his fists. “Men who stand on the sidelines, pining in the shadows, too afraid to go after what they want? Have you gotten so used to being handed everything in life that you think she’ll hand herself over to you, too?” Alex slugged him. Pain exploded in Gideon’s jaw.

Gideon, the thought of you inside that building … it felt like being held underwater.” She lowered her gaze to the pulse at the base of his throat. “Like being starved of air.

I hate you, Gideon Sharpe. I hate you so much, it hurts. And if you don't open this door, I'll go on hating you forever...

It only made sense to pursue someone easier and less dangerous than Gideon Shape.

You’re right. Some people are determined to live out their own personal tragedies.

People like you and your grandmother flourished under the Reign of Witches, when things were worse than they are now. So don’t pretend you care. You didn’t then, and you don’t now. The Sister Queens or the Good Commander … it’s all the same to you.” She winced, as if he’d struck her. Seeing it, the fight went out of him. Fuck. That was too far.

She wished she knew a spell to disappear for a week straight.

His hands clenched. He wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. “My pleasure,

She let go of the ladder and surged upward, gasping for breath when she hit the surface. The moment she did, two firm hands grabbed her and dragged her out.

Gideon paused, studying her. If he and Rune Winters were truly courting—which would never happen—this is exactly the argument he would have with her.

I was telling the girls at Charlotte’s luncheon about it,” she said, tucking her hand into his elbow and leading him deeper into the room. As if she truly didn’t realize he was about to arrest her. “Naturally, I’ll need to give them an update.

I’m not sure why you’re angry at me,” she said to his back. “If Penitent children are begging in the street, it’s the Republic you should blame. The Good Commander made their families outcasts for aiding witches.” Gideon stopped. “Or don’t you remember that the Commander promised us a better world?” she continued before he could respond. “One where no one lives in squalor.

It was the initial sign of a witch: at the onset of your first bleeding, you didn’t bleed red, but black.

Sadly, though, people don’t always know what’s best for them. Sometimes they need us to step in and protect them from themselves.

Looking at him was like watching an opera she didn’t like. One of those ridiculous comedies where the character gets everything she ever dreamed of and lives happily ever after. Those operas were so unrealistic, they always made Rune want to cry. Or stand up and leave.

Only through the death of the old world can we prevent the return of evil.

But she knew the fear of not having him now, and she suddenly wanted all of him. Body and soul. It was a dangerous feeling. One that could cost her everything.

His body buzzed at the lack of her. As if Rune in his arms was the only true thing in the world, and until she was there again, everything

I’m afraid you’ll be the end of me, Gideon.” And then, much more quietly: “Maybe you already are.

Thank you for understanding.” “I’ll always understand,” Verity whispered.

I'm afraid you will be the end of me.

There was a noise like a whip-crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and swinging a huge crimson handbag from his hand. There

It wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Nothing was supposed to feel this good. This right. As if there was nothing to be ashamed of. As if—just maybe—he could be worthy of a girl like her.