Scythe Citra Quotes

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You may ask any question. Some, however, must be answered by silence
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
I choose to be known as scythe Anastasia after the youngest member of the family Romanov she was the product of a corrupt system, and because of that, was denied her very life—as I almost was had she lived who knows what she might have done. perhaps she could have changed the world and redeemed her family name. choose to be scythe Anastasia. I vow to become the change that night have been
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
I vow to become the change that might have been
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Even though the whole world had slid of its axis. Breakfast was breakfast. How dare it be?
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
shouldn't the punishment for failure be the awful knowledge of that failure?
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
…found the use of actual old-school books off putting, but over time, he'd learned there was something very satisfying to the turning of pages, and the emotional catharsis of slamming a book shut
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Marie couldn't help but smile. This girl whom she had not even wanted to take on in the first place had become her greatest supporter. Her truest friend.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
You see through the facade of the world, Citra Terranova. You'd make a good scythe." Citra recoiled. "I'd never want to be one." "That", he said, "is the first requirement.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
I should glean you right here and bring your heart to Constantine!" "He'd probably eat it." "Probably," Citra had to admit.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
Marie,” she said, “it’s finally happened.” “What has, dear?” “I’ve stopped seeing myself as Citra Terranova,” she said. “I’ve finally become Scythe Anastasia.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
For you nothing has changed.” Citra looked down into her cereal. It was Rowan who dared to state the obvious. “Everything has changed, sir.” And then Faraday said something enigmatic that would only resonate with them much later. “Perhaps everything will change again.
Neil Shusterman
She didn’t answer him. He didn’t expect her to. It was just a seed he wanted to plan.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
He had been in Citra’s embrace, the two of them cloaked in the robes of founding scythes Prometheus and Cleopatra, as Endura sank beneath the Atlantic. But those robes did not stay on for long.
Neal Shusterman (The Toll (Arc of a Scythe, #3))
Scythe Curie seemed a mix of many emotions, but she folded them all away, like clothes that no longer fit, and closed the drawer. Citra expected she never spoke of this to anyone else, and would probably never speak of it again.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Hope in the shadow of fear is the world’s most powerful motivator. Citra
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
You'd make a good scythe". Citra recoiled. "I'd never want to be one." "That," he said, "is the first requirement
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
There was no lane line, no net, nothin to keep them apart but the well of her will. But that kept losing bricks
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
I’m sure that absolute correctness must seem a dull existence to you, but I know no other way to be
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
In fact, in the grand scheme of things, everyone was equally useless. That`s what he was saying, and it infuriated Citra, because on a certain level, she knew he was right.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
anyone’s pocket. “I should like to be on a scythe committee one day,” Rowan said. Citra looked at him oddly. “Why are you talking like Faraday?” Rowan shrugged. “When in Rome . . .” “We’re not in Rome,” she reminded him. “If we were, we’d have a much cooler place for conclave.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Faraday’s home was Spartan. Little decoration. Unimpressive furniture. Rowan’s room had space for only a bed and a small dresser. Citra, at least, had a window, but the view was of a brick wall.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
You’ll be fine, Citra. You’ll be back with Scythe Curie in no time—but you won’t forget what happened today. And I hope you never forgive me.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Hope in the shadow of fear is the world's most powerful motivator. -Scythe (QUEEN CITRA #STAN)
Neal Shusterman
This won’t do,” said Scythe Curie, and took Citra up into her arms, carrying her.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Then she offered Citra ice cream that was the best she’d ever tasted.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
he’d learned there was something very satisfying to the turning of pages, and—as Citra had already discovered—the emotional catharsis of slamming a book shut.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
I should like to be on a scythe committee one day,” Rowan said. Citra looked at him oddly. “Why are you talking like Faraday?” Rowan shrugged. “When in Rome…
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
The problem was that Citra was very bad at doing things half-fast.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Rowan was nervous, he just didn’t want to admit it. He knew admitting it would make Citra more worried, which would make him more worried.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Scythe Faraday’s face was a mask of pain and disbelief. “Citra, oh god, what are you doing here?
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
The thought of a scythe having milk and cookies before bed bordered on absurd to Citra.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
What’s the point of three foot pedals?” Citra complained. “People only have two feet.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
I feel bad for you,” Citra said. “Even when you’re food shopping, death is hiding right behind the milk.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
The thought of a scythe having milk and cookies before bed bordered on absurd to Citra. But she suppose even an agent of death would have guilty pleasures.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Citra slumped in her chair. "I don't fail," she said.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
And I have faith that you will shine in your final test.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Why, wondered Citra, would there ever be a need for 400,000 scythes?
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
Citra ate, even though she didn't have an appetite. Even though the whole world had slid off its axis. Breakfast was breakfast. How dare it be?
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
He wasn’t talking about you, Citra,” she explained. “He wrote that about me.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
In spite of his pain and drug-induced haze, Scythe Faraday smiled. “Yes, your poisons. Are you my apprentice or not?” Citra couldn’t help but smile right back at him. “Yes, Your Honor, I am.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
We weren’t close,” Citra insisted. “We weren’t anything.” And that hurt to admit more than her parents could possibly know. How could she and Rowan have any kind of relationship when they were forced to be lethal adversaries? Even now, when he was hunted and she was yoked with the heavy responsibility of scythehood, how could there be anything between them but a dark well of longing?
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
Good, you're awake. I trust you've healed enough over the past few hours to be a little more coherent, and little less miserable" "coherent, yes. Less miserable, no. Just a deferent kind of misery
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Citra wondered if all Chilargentine scythes wore robes that seemed not just handmade, but lovingly made. The woman spoke in Spanic and Scythe Curie responded in kind. “I didn’t know you spoke Spanic,
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Who's the fat guy?" Citra asked. "He looks important," said Rowan. "Indeed", said Scythe Faraday. "The fat guy's, as you call him, is thew High Blade. The most powerful man in the Midmerican Scythedom.
Neil Shusterman
Good morning,” Citra said groggily—then realized it sounded far too weak for a scythe. Even one who was currently incognito. She cleared her throat and spoke with more confidence. “Good morning,” Anastasia said.
Neal Shusterman (The Toll (Arc of a Scythe, #3))
Comfort food, thought Citra, because somehow it made her feel safe from the inside out. “My grandmother said it could actually heal a cold.” “What’s a cold?” asked Citra. “A deadly illness from the mortal age, I suppose.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Who’s the fat guy?” Citra asked. “He looks important,” said Rowan. “Indeed,” said Scythe Faraday. “‘The fat guy,’ as you call him, is the High Blade. The most powerful man in the MidMerican Scythedom. He presides over conclave.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Scythe Curie seemed a mix of many emotions, but she folded them all away, like clothes that no longer fit, and closed the drawer. Citra suspected she never spoke of this to anyone else, and would probably never speak of it again.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Citra returned to Sythe Curie at Falling Water many weeks before Winter Conclave, when the Month of Lights had just begun, and gifts were being passed between friends and loved ones to celebrate ancient miracles that no one quite remembered.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
I feel bad for you," said Citra. "Even when you're food shopping, death is hiding right behind death." "It never hides," the scythe told them with a world-weariness that was hard to describe. "Nor does it sleep. You'll learn that soon enough.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Scythe Anastasia was equally dumbfounded. "You?" she said. "No," Morrison blurted, "not me! I mean, yes, it's me, but I'm not the Toll, I mean." Any hope of strong, silent intimidation was gone. Now he was little more than a stammering imbecile, which is how he always felt around Scythe Anastasia. "What are you even doing here?" she asked. He started to explain, but realized it was way too long a story for the moment. And besides, he was sure her story was a better one. The other scythe in her entourage—Amazonian by the look of his robe—chimed in, several beats behind the curve. "You mean to say you two know each other?" But before either of them could answer, Mendoza came up behind Morrison, tapping him on the shoulder. "As usual, you're in the way, Morrison," he grumbled, having completely missed the conversation. Morrison stepped aside and allowed the curate to exit. And the moment Mendoza saw Anastasia, he became just as befuddled as Morrison. Although his eyes darted wildly, he managed to hold his silence. Now they stood on either side of the entrance to the cave in their usual formation. Then the Toll emerged from the cave between them. He paused short, just as Morrison and Mendoza had, gaping in a way that a holy man probably never should. "Okay," said Scythe Anastasia. "Now I know I've lost my mind.
Neal Shusterman (The Toll (Arc of a Scythe, #3))
I know the thing the Tonists believe are ridiculous," Citra said, "but I suppose to some people, there's something compelling about them." "That's what turkeys think about the rain," Marie pointed out. "They raise their eyes heavenward, open up their beaks, and drown.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
If we go through with this, he said, I will make it clear to the High Blade that it was at your insistence. If we fail, and your existence is ended, the blame will be yours and your alone. I can live with that, Citra told him. No, Scythe Constantine pointed out, you won't.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
I expect a full night's sleep from you, followed by a recitation of your poisons in the morning, in order of toxicity." "My poison?" In spite of his pain and drug-induced haze, Scythe Faraday smiled. "Yes, your poisons. Are you my apprentice or not?" Citra couldn't help but smile right back at him. "Yes, Your Honor, I am.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
He will pretend like it never happened,” Scythe Curie told her as the two of them drove home from the airport. “That’s the closest the man will ever come to an apology.” “But it did happen,” Citra said. “I had to hurl myself from a building to escape from it.” “And I had to blow up two perfectly good cars,” Scythe Curie said wryly.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
But Citra could. She knew that calling, too. Their minds and bodies had spent a year being trained to be society’s perfect killers. Ending life had become a part of who they were. And she couldn’t blame him for wanting to turn his blade on the corruption that was rooting its way through the scythedom—but wanting to, and actually doing it, were two different things.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
Rowan laughed at that. “Justice? The scythedom doesn’t know what justice is anymore.” “Some of us do, Rowan. I have to believe that eventually wisdom and reason will prevail.” Rowan reached out and touched her cheek. She allowed it. “I want to believe that, too, Citra. I want to believe that the scythedom can return to what it was meant to be. . . . But sometimes it takes a necessary darkness to get there.” “And you’re that necessary darkness?” He didn’t speak to that. Instead, he said, “I took the name Lucifer because it means ‘bringer of light.’ ” “It’s also what mortal people once called the devil,” she pointed out. Rowan shrugged. “I guess whoever holds the torch casts the darkest shadow.” “Whoever steals the torch, you mean.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
This Porsche was a gift from an antique car dealer,” Scythe Curie explained to her. “He wanted immunity?” Citra asked, assuming the man’s motive. “On the contrary. I had just gleaned his father, so he already had immunity.” “Wait,” said Citra. “You gleaned his father, and he gave you a car?” “Yes.” “So he hated his father?” “No, he loved his father very much.” “Am I missing something?
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
Hello, Mrs. Yeltner,” Citra said, guilty to be enjoying the woman’s thinly veiled terror. “G . . . good to see you,” she said, clearly not remembering Citra’s name. “Wasn’t there just a gleaning on your floor earlier this year? I didn’t think it was allowed to hit the same building so soon.” “It’s allowed,” Citra said. “But we’re not here to glean today.” “Although,” added Scythe Curie, “anything’s possible.
Neal Shusterman (Scythe (Arc of a Scythe, #1))
There was an odd justice to it. Not so much live-by-the-blade/die-by-the-blade; it was more becoming the blade, and losing oneself. Scythe Faraday had once told him and Citra that they were called scythes rather than reapers, because they were not the ones who killed; they were merely the tool that society used to bring fair-handed death to the world. But once you’re the weapon, you’re nothing more than a tool for someone else to wield.
Neal Shusterman (The Toll (Arc of a Scythe Book 3))
Today’s target was a woman of ninety-three who looked thirty-three, and who was constantly busy. When she wasn’t looking at her phone she was looking in her purse; when she wasn’t looking in her purse she was looking at her nails, or the sleeve of her blouse, or the loose button on her jacket. What does she fear in idleness? Citra wondered. The woman was so self- absorbed, she had no clue that she was under the scrutiny of a scythe, trailing her by only ten yards.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))
So not only couldn’t their Thanksgiving turkeys fly when they were alive, they couldn’t walk, either. As a child, Citra always felt bad for them, even though the Thunderhead took great pains to make sure such birds—and all livestock—were raised humanely. Citra had seen a video on it in third grade. The turkeys, from the moment of their hatching, were suspended in a warm gel, and their small brains were wet-wired into a computer that produced for them an artificial reality in which they experienced flight, freedom, reproduction, and all the things that would make a turkey content.
Neal Shusterman (Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe, #2))