The Crow Quotes

I would have come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together-knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting.

Kaz leaned back. "What's the easiest way to steal a man's wallet?" "Knife to the throat?" asked Inej. "Gun to the back?" said Jesper. "Poison in his cup?" suggested Nina. "You're all horrible," said Matthias.

No mourners. No funerals. Among them, it passed for 'good luck.

I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.

She'd laughed, and if he could have bottled the sound and gotten drunk on it every night, he would have. It terrified him.

The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true.

It's not natural for women to fight." "It's not natural for someone to be as stupid as he is tall, and yet there you stand.

I can hear the change in Kaz's breathing when he looks at you." "You... you can?" "It catches every time, like he's never seen you before.

Many boys will bring you flowers. But someday you'll meet a boy who will learn your favorite flower, your favorite song, your favorite sweet. And even if he is too poor to give you any of them, it won't matter because he will have taken the time to know you as no one else does. Only that boy earns your heart.

Has anyone noticed this whole city is looking for us, mad at us, or wants to kill us?" "So?" said Kaz. "Well, usually it's just half the city.

When everyone knows you’re a monster, you needn’t waste time doing every monstrous thing.

Never forget what you are, for surely the world will not. Make it your strength. Then it can never be your weakness.

I'm a business man," he'd told her. "No more, no less." "You're a thief, Kaz." "Isn't that what I just said?

Fear is a phoenix. You can watch it burn a thousand times and still it will return.

No Mourners. No Funerals.

We are all someone's monster.

The water hears and understands. The ice does not forgive.

Please, my darling Inej, treasure of my heart, won’t you do me the honor of acquiring me a new hat?

I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from this oath.

She smiled then, her eyes red, her cheeks scattered with some kind of dust. It was a smile he thought he might die to earn again.

Crows remember human faces. They remember the people who feed them, who are kind to them. And the people who wrong them too. They don’t forget. They tell each other who to look after and who to watch out for.

Oh, I see. I'm the wicked Grisha seductress. I have beguiled you with my Grisha wiles!" She poked him in the chest. "Stop that." "No. I'm beguiling you.

Have any of you wondered what I did with all the cash Pekka Rollins gave us?" "Guns?" asked Jesper. "Ships?" queried Inej. "Bombs?" suggested Wylan. "Political bribes?" offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. "This is where you tell us how awful we are," she whispered.

Who’d deny a poor cripple his cane?” “If the cripple is you, then any man with sense.

You threw me to the crows, but it turns out I prefer them to you.

Jesper knocked his head against the hull and cast his eyes heavenward. “Fine. But if Pekka Rollins kills us all, I’m going to get Wylan’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost.” Brekker’s lips quirked. “I’ll just hire Matthias’ ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.” “My ghost won’t associate with your ghost,” Matthias said primly, and then wondered if the sea air was rotting his brain.

He needed to tell her...what? That she was lovely and brave and better than anything he deserved. That he was twisted, crooked, wrong, but not so broken that he couldn't pull himself together into some semblance of a man for her. That without meaning to, he'd begun to lean on her, to look for her, to need her near. He needed to thank her for his new hat.

She wouldn't wish love on anyone. It was the guest you welcomed and then couldn't be rid of.

Men mock the gods until they need them, Kaz.

Greed is your god, Kaz." He almost laughed at that. "No, Inej. Greed bows to me. It is my servant and my lever.

Scheming face,” Inej murmured. Jesper nodded. “Definitely.

No mourners, no funerals. Another way of saying good luck. But it was something more. A dark wink to the fact that there would be no expensive burials for people like them, no marble markers to remember their names, no wreaths of myrtle and rose.

Greed may do your bidding, but death serves no man.

Saints, Kaz, you actually look happy." "Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. But there was no mistaking it. Kaz Brekker was grinning like an idiot.

Better terrible truths than kind lies.

We meet fear. We greet the unexpected visitor and listen to what he has to tell us. When fear arrives, something is about to happen.

Besides, she was the Wraith – the only law that applied to her was gravity, and some days she defied that, too.

I don’t hold a grudge. I cradle it. I coddle it. I feed it fine cuts of meat and send it to the best schools. I nurture my grudges, Rollins.

What do you want then?" The old answers came easily to mind. Money. Vengeance. Jordie's voice in my head silenced forever. But a different reply roared to life inside him, loud, insistent, and unwelcome. You, Inej. You.

Maybe there were people who lived those lives. Maybe this girl was one of them. But what about the rest of us? What about the nobodies and the nothings, the invisible girls? We learn to hold our heads as if we wear crowns. We learn to wring magic from the ordinary. That was how you survived when you weren’t chosen, when there was no royal blood in your veins. When the world owed you nothing, you demanded something of it anyway.

You can only sharpen a blade so far,” Kaz said as he joined them at the front of the church. “In the end, it comes down to the quality of the metal.

I am grateful you're alive", he said. "I am grateful that you're beside me. I am grateful that you're eating." She rested her head on his shoulder. "You're better that waffles, Matthias Helvar." A small smile curled the Fjerdan's lips. "Let's not say things we don't mean, my love.

I have been made to protect you. Even in death, I will find a way.

The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it where you want it to go.

A gambler, a convict, a wayward son, a lost Grisha, a Suli girl who had become a killer, a boy from the Barrel who had become something worse.

Inej had once offered to teach him how to fall. "The trick is not getting knocked down," he'd told her with a laugh. "No, Kaz," she'd said, "the trick is in getting back up.

My old grandmother always used to say, Summer friends will melt away like summer snows, but winter friends are friends forever.

This action will have no echo.

I’m going to get my money, Kaz vowed. And I’m going to get my girl.

I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a man swear he loves me.

You don’t look like a monster.” “I’ll tell you a secret, Hanna. The really bad monsters never look like monsters.

Stay,” she panted. Tears leaked from her eyes. “Stay till the end.” “And after,” he said. “And always.” “I want to feel safe again. I want to go home to Ravka.” “Then I’ll take you there. We’ll set fire to raisins or whatever you heathens do for fun.” “Zealot,” she said weakly. “Witch.” “Barbarian.” “Nina,” he whispered, “little red bird. Don’t go.

Why do you guys say that, anyway? No mourners, no funerals? Why not just say good luck or be safe?” “We like to keep our expectations low.

Her heart was a river that carried her to the sea.

You love trickery." "I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native tongue.

I don't like this." "To be fair, Matthias, you don't like much.

You'll get what's coming to you some day, Brekker." "I will," said Kaz, "if there's any justice in the world. And we all know how likely that is.

They were twin souls, soldiers destined to fight for different sides, to find each other and lose each other too quickly. She would not keep him here. Not like this.

Don’t worry, Da. People point guns at each other all the time in Ketterdam. It’s basically a handshake.

He'd told her they would fight their way out. Knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. She would fight for him, but she could not heal him. She would not waste her life trying.

Our hopes rest with you, Mister Brekker. If you fail, all the world will suffer for it." "Oh, it's worse than that, Van Eck. If I fail, I don't get paid.

It was because she was listening so closely that she knew the exact moment when Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the bastard of the Barrel and deadliest boy in Ketterdam, fainted.

Always hit where the mark isn't looking" "Who's Mark?" asked Wylan.

Everything is a negotiation with you, Brekker. You probably bartered your way out of the womb.

Nina might not be able to put you back, you know. Not without another dose of parem. You could be stuck like this.” “Why does it matter?” “I don’t know!” Jesper said angrily. “Maybe I liked your stupid face.

At some point, Jesper realized Kaz was gone. "Not one for goodbyes, is he?" he muttered. "He doesn't say goodbye," Inej said. She kept her eyes on the lights of the canal. Somewhere in the garden, a night bird began to sing. "He just lets go.

I was always holding onto people, and they were always leaving.

You can’t spend his money if you’re dead.” “I’ll acquire expensive habits in the afterlife.” “There’s a difference between confidence and arrogance.

You came back for me.” “I protect my investments.” Investments. “I’m glad I’m bleeding all over your shirt.

Where do you think the money went?” he repeated. “Guns?” asked Jesper. “Ships?” queried Inej. “Bombs?” suggested Wylan. “Political bribes?” offered Nina. They all looked at Matthias. “This is where you tell us how awful we are,” she whispered. He shrugged. “They all seem like practical choices.

If only you could talk to girls in equations.” There was a long silence, and then, eyes trained on the notch they’d created in the link, Wylan said, “Just girls?” Jesper restrained a grin. “No. Not just girls.

You’re stupid about a lot of things, Wylan, but you are not stupid. And if I ever hear you call yourself a moron again, I’m going to tell Matthias you tried to kiss Nina. With tongue.” Wylan wiped his nose on his sleeve. “He’ll never believe it.” “Then I’ll tell Nina you tried to kiss Matthias. With tongue.

Brick by brick, I will destroy you.

Though he’d trusted her with his life countless times, it felt much more frightening to trust her with his shame.

We'll be Kings and Queens, Inej. Kings and Queens.

Matthias was dreaming again. Dreaming of her. The storm raged around him, drowning out Nina’s voice. And yet his heart was easy. Somehow he knew that she would be safe, she would find shelter from the cold. He was on the ice once more, and somewhere he could hear the wolves howling. But this time, he knew they were welcoming him home.

Telling a story is like reaching into a granary full of wheat and drawing out a handful. There is always more to tell than can be told.

I promise, Matthias. I'll take you home." "Nina," he said, pressing her hand to his heart. "I am already home.

Wylan,” Jesper said, giving him a little shake. “Maybe your tutors didn’t cover this lesson, but you do not argue with a man covered in blood and a knife up his sleeve.

Kaz, this whole 'shoot me' thing is starting to concern me.

Jes, I've thought about this-" "Thought of me? Late at night? What was I wearing?" "I've thought about your powers," Wylan said, cheeks flushing pinker.

Facts are for the unimaginative.

Do you have a different name for killing when you wear a uniform to do it?

Jesper couldn’t quite believe he was having a conversation with the Sturmhond. The privateer was a legend. He’d broken countless blockades on behalf of the Ravkans and there were rumors that… “Do you really have a flying ship? blurted Jesper. “No.” “Oh.” “I have several.” “Take me with you.

A liar, a thief, and utterly without conscience. But he'll keep to any deal you strike with him.

Sometimes, the only way to get justice is to take it for yourself.

He thumbed quickly through the ledger and said, “When people see a cripple walking down the street, leaning on his cane, what do they feel?” Wylan looked away. People always did when Kaz talked about his limp, as if he didn’t know what he was or how the world saw him. “They feel pity. Now, what do they think when they see me coming?” Wylan’s mouth quirked up at the corner. “They think they’d better cross the street.” Kaz tossed the ledger back in the safe. “You’re not weak because you can’t read. You’re weak because you’re afraid of people seeing your weakness. You’re letting shame decide who you are.

Meeting you was a disaster.” She raised a brow. “Thank you.” Djel, he was terrible at this. He stumbled on, trying to make her understand. “But I am grateful for that disaster. I needed a catastrophe to shake me from the life I knew. You were an earthquake, a landslide.” “I,” she said, planting a hand on her hip, “am a delicate flower.” “You aren’t a flower, you’re every blossom in the wood blooming at once. You are a tidal wave. You’re a stampede. You are overwhelming.

Until this moment, Wylan hadn't quite understood how much they meant to him. His father would have sneered at these thugs and thieves, a disgraced soldier, a gambler who couldn't keep out of the red. But they were his first friends, his only friends, and Wylan knew that even if he'd had his pick of a thousand companions, these would have been the people he chose.

When we get our money, you can burn kruge to keep you warm." "I'm going to pay someone to burn my kruge for me." "Why don't you pay someone else to pay someone to burn your kruge for you? That's what the big players do.

He was going to break my legs,” she said, her chin held high, the barest quaver in her voice. “Would you have come for me then, Kaz? When I couldn’t scale a wall or walk a tightrope? When I wasn’t the Wraith anymore?” Dirtyhands would not. The boy who could get them through this, get their money, keep them alive, would do her the courtesy of putting her out of her misery, then cut his losses and move on. “I would come for you,” he said, and when he saw the wary look she shot him, he said it again. “I would come for you. And if I couldn’t walk, I’d crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we’d fight our way out together—knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that’s what we do. We never stop fighting.

Jesper: “If Pekka Rollins kills us all, I’m going to get Wylan’s ghost to teach my ghost how to play the flute just so that I can annoy the hell out of your ghost.” Kaz: “I’ll just hire Matthias’ ghost to kick your ghost’s ass.” Matthias: “My ghost won’t associate with your ghost.

I want you to stay. I want you to … I want you.” “You want me.” She turned the words over. Gently, she squeezed his hand. “And how will you have me, Kaz?” He looked at her then, eyes fierce, mouth set. It was the face he wore when he was fighting. “How will you have me?” she repeated. “Fully clothed, gloves on, your head turned away so our lips can never touch?”<...>“I will have you without armour, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all.

He'd broken his leg dropping down from the rooftop. The bone didn't set right, and he'd limped ever after. So he'd found himself a Fabrikator and had his cane made. It became a declaration. There was no part of him that was no broken, that had not healed wrong, and there was no part of him that was not stronger for having been broken.

Some people see a magic trick and say, ‘Impossible!’ They clap their hands, turn over their money, and forget about it ten minutes later. Other people ask how it worked. They go home, get into bed, toss and turn, wondering how it was done. It takes them a good night’s sleep to forget all about it. And then there are the ones who stay awake, running through the trick again and again, looking for that skip in perception, the crack in the illusion that will explain how their eyes got duped; they’re the kind who won’t rest until they’ve mastered that little bit of mystery for themselves. I’m that kind.” “You love trickery.” “I love puzzles. Trickery is just my native tongue.

Jesper ran a finger up Wylan's forearm, and Wylan flushed a vibrant pink. Matthias couldn't help but sympathize with the boy. He knew what it was to be out of your depth, and he sometimes suspected they could forgo all of Kaz's planning and simply let Jesper and Nina flirt the entirety of Ketterdam into submission.

I will love you as a thief loves a gallery and as a crow loves a murder, as a cloud loves bats and as a range loves braes. I will love you as misfortune loves orphans, as fire loves innocence and as justice loves to sit and watch while everything goes wrong. I will love you as a battlefield loves young men and as peppermints love your allergies, and I will love you as the banana peel loves the shoe of a man who was just struck by a shingle falling off a house. I will love you as a volunteer fire department loves rushing into burning buildings and as burning buildings love to chase them back out, and as a parachute loves to leave a blimp and as a blimp operator loves to chase after it. I will love you as a dagger loves a certain person’s back, and as a certain person loves to wear dagger proof tunics, and as a dagger proof tunic loves to go to a certain dry cleaning facility, and how a certain employee of a dry cleaning facility loves to stay up late with a pair of binoculars, watching a dagger factory for hours in the hopes of catching a burglar, and as a burglar loves sneaking up behind people with binoculars, suddenly realizing that she has left her dagger at home. I will love you as a drawer loves a secret compartment, and as a secret compartment loves a secret, and as a secret loves to make a person gasp, and as a gasping person loves a glass of brandy to calm their nerves, and as a glass of brandy loves to shatter on the floor, and as the noise of glass shattering loves to make someone else gasp, and as someone else gasping loves a nearby desk to lean against, even if leaning against it presses a lever that loves to open a drawer and reveal a secret compartment. I will love you until all such compartments are discovered and opened, and until all the secrets have gone gasping into the world. I will love you until all the codes and hearts have been broken and until every anagram and egg has been unscrambled. I will love you until every fire is extinguised and until every home is rebuilt from the handsomest and most susceptible of woods, and until every criminal is handcuffed by the laziest of policemen. I will love until M. hates snakes and J. hates grammar, and I will love you until C. realizes S. is not worthy of his love and N. realizes he is not worthy of the V. I will love you until the bird hates a nest and the worm hates an apple, and until the apple hates a tree and the tree hates a nest, and until a bird hates a tree and an apple hates a nest, although honestly I cannot imagine that last occurrence no matter how hard I try. I will love you as we grow older, which has just happened, and has happened again, and happened several days ago, continuously, and then several years before that, and will continue to happen as the spinning hands of every clock and the flipping pages of every calendar mark the passage of time, except for the clocks that people have forgotten to wind and the calendars that people have forgotten to place in a highly visible area. I will love you as we find ourselves farther and farther from one another, where we once we were so close that we could slip the curved straw, and the long, slender spoon, between our lips and fingers respectively. I will love you until the chances of us running into one another slip from slim to zero, and until your face is fogged by distant memory, and your memory faced by distant fog, and your fog memorized by a distant face, and your distance distanced by the memorized memory of a foggy fog. I will love you no matter where you go and who you see, no matter where you avoid and who you don’t see, and no matter who sees you avoiding where you go. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this, and now matter how I am discovered after what happens to me as I am discovering this.

Needle was Robb and Bran and Rickon, her mother and her father, even Sansa. Needle was Winterfell's grey walls, and the laughter of its people. Needle was the summer snows, Old Nan's stories, the heart tree with its red leaves and scary face, the warm earthy smell of the glass gardens, the sound of the north wind rattling the shutters of her room. Needle was Jon Snow's smile. He used to mess my hair and call me "little sister," she remembered, and suddenly there were tears in her eyes.

This isn’t … it isn’t a trick, is it?” Her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be. The shadow of something dark moved across Kaz’s face. “If it were a trick, I’d promise you safety. I’d offer you happiness. I don’t know if that exists in the Barrel, but you’ll find none of it with me.” For some reason, those words had comforted her. Better terrible truths than kind lies. “All right,” she said. “How do we begin?” “Let’s start by getting out of here and finding you some proper clothes. Oh, and Inej,” he said as he led her out of the salon, “don’t ever sneak up on me again.

How do you get your information, Mister Brekker?" "You might say I'm a lockpick." "You must be a very gifted one." "I am indeed." Kaz leaned back slightly. "You see, every man is a safe, a vault of secrets and longings. Now, there are those who take the brute's way, but I prefer a gentler approach - the right pressure applied at the right moment, in the right place. It's a delicate thing." "Do you always speak in metaphors, Mister Brekker?" Kaz smiled. "It's not a metaphor." He was out of his chair before his chains hit the ground.