The Undertaking Of Hart And Mercy Quotes

Let me ask you something. If you had to choose between saving my life or saving a dog, which would you choose?” “The dog.

Oh. It’s you,” she said, the words and the unenthusiastic tone that went with them dropping off her tongue like a lead weight. Hart resisted the urge to grind his molars into a fine powder. “Most people start with hello.” “Hello, Hart-ache,” she sighed. “Hello, Merciless.

I want to be with someone who asks me how my day was, someone who finds what I have to say interesting. I want to be with someone who thinks that - I don't know - that I'm kind of special. That's all.

Everyone knows that cuddling gets hot and uncomfortable after two minutes,” she informed him. “Then if either of us gets hot or uncomfortable, we’ll desist, and no hard feelings. Deal?

I was afraid you wouldn't feel for me what I have felt for you since the day I walked into Birdsall & Son and found a woman there who was color and light and joy in a world that had come to seem colorless and dismal and lousy to me.

I’ve been thinking on your situation, vague as it is to me, and I can’t help but wonder if more people are lonelier than either of us will ever know. Maybe lots of people are walking through their days, lonely as can be and believing no one understands what it’s like. That’s not a very cheering thought, is it?

But if we are going to inform your dad that we’re dating, I’d rather it be over a nice, wholesome dinner, not when I’m leaving your place first thing in the morning because I’ve spent the night worshipping at the altar of your glorious, beautiful, intoxicating pussy.

I guess you’re still alive, then,” she said flatly. “I am. Try to contain your joy.

See? There's far more to fear from the living than from the dead. You remember that.

She wished she could hate him, but she didn't. The sad truth was that she loved him, even if she was struggling to forgive him.

Holy Three Mothers, how many times?” Mercy wavered, a denial on her tongue, but she knew it would do her no good now. “How many times for him, or how many times for me? Because they’re not the same, and I am definitely in the lead.” Lilian screamed in her face.

Bassareus regarded Hart, studied the bottle in his hand, then turned his attention back to Hart. “She must be a hot piece of ass.” “You look like a rabbit, but you’re actually a pig, aren’t you?” Hart said, making it clear that this was a statement, not a question.

It was the apology that rattled her the most, that made her wonder if she’d never had him figured out at all. She had called him arrogant the day they met, but an arrogant man apologized to obtain absolution. A good man admitted his errors and expected nothing in return. Now Mercy had a burning desire to find out whether or not Hart Ralston was a good man.

You might be the last living creature I see on this earth, so quit being a dick,” Hart told him.

Committing it to ink makes it truer.

Good gods, he thought, I’m turning into a fucking feelings factory. He cleared his

It annoyed Mercy to no end that after years of putting up with that insufferable marshal, some primal inner instinct continued to think he looked good enough to eat.

He figured that if he could no longer love Mercy in person, he could at least love her through the pages of her favorite novel.

She had no right to be full of life when she was surrounded by death.

What are you doing here?” “Existing. What are you doing here?

Hello, Hart-ache,” she sighed. “Hello, Merciless.

Lilian’s face glowed with evil glee. “Whose hat is in the lobby, Mercy?

She laughed, and he knew then that he would never tire of the sound.

One by one, he thought of the people who had mattered to him. Pushing aside the remorse and regret that usually accompanied his memories. He wanted only love at his side now.

I thought, if living is this miserable, why wouldn't people want to leave it behind?

Maybe lots of people are walking through their days, lonely as can be and believing no one understands what it's like.

Then again, she wondered which was sadder: losing someone you truly loved, or never loving someone to begin with.

I do care about him. But he's a mess. And I can't fix him. And I shouldn't have to.

She had always imagined herself settling down with someone nice and starting a family of her own, but that notion seemed to be drifting farther and farther from her grasp these days.

Do you honestly believe that dogs don’t have souls? Have you ever met a dog who wasn’t a hundred times nicer than your average human being?” “Um, no?” “Exactly. Don’t insult dogs like that.

It was simply that she believed everyone deserved a ritual to usher them into the next life, and if that left no one but her to say a few words over an unmarked grave, she was more than willing to do what was good and right.

I know. Sorry.” The kid sniffed hard, but the tears wouldn’t stop. “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about. I bawled my first couple of times.” “You did?” “Yep, but if you tell anyone that I told you that, I’ll rip your nuts off.” “I won’t,” Duckers said through a wet laugh.

I face my own mortality every day. I can buy a fabulous blouse from a mail-order catalog, cook a terrible dinner, and go to bed with a good romance novel, but when I send the dead sailing across the Salt Sea, I know that the new blouse and that terrible dinner and a good romance novel won't mean a thing when I'm gone. And honestly, it's a comfort. It's something that links me to everyone around me, no matter who they are. Most people seal themselves off from death, but that doesn't change the fact that we're all joined together by this single thread.

He draped his forearm across the open window and let the ocean spray cool his skin. If only it would soothe the burning inside him, this pernicious emotion he could not name with accuracy. Disenchantment? Regret? Whatever it was, it accompanied him like an unwanted guest in his passenger seat.

Now then, where were we?” she said when she returned, propping her fists on her hips, which made the bib of her overalls stretch over the swell of her breasts. The square of denim seemed to scream, Hey, look at these! Aren’t they fucking magnificent? It was so unfair of Mercy to have magnificent breasts.

you put things in perspective for me—to gaze up at the night sky and feel a part of something bigger than myself.

an arrogant man apologized to obtain absolution. A good man admitted his errors and expected nothing in return.

He gritted his teeth as Deputy Handsy explained the situation.

How old are you now? Thirty-five? Almost thirty-six, right?” “Yep.” “So when are you going to stop being nineteen?

What the fuck, Alma?" "And a good afternoon to you too, Marshal." "Sorry. What the fuck, Chief Maguire?

Would you calm your—oh my gods.” The sinister glee in that oh my gods filled Hart’s veins with dread. “What?” “No way!” “What?” he begged. When Duckers spun around, he had pure, unadulterated joy painted all over his face. “Haaaaaaa!” he cackled so loudly the sound echoed off the neighboring buildings. “Shh!” “Ha ha ha! This is the greatest day of my life!” crowed Duckers.

The first deputy was calmer and more professional, but he still had his hand on Mercy’s arm. Hart stared at the spot where skin met skin and felt very strongly that this man needed to stop touching Mercy. Now. He gritted his teeth as Deputy Handsy explained the situation.

Your family is important to you, so if you want to tell them about us, go ahead. But if we are going to inform your dad that we’re dating, I’d rather it be over a nice, wholesome dinner, not when I’m leaving your place first thing in the morning because I’ve spent the night worshipping at the altar of your glorious, beautiful, intoxicating pussy.” “Oh my,” Mercy tittered, her cheeks heating. “That came out more vulgar than I had intended.” Mercy did not find it vulgar.

You’re mean.

Do you honestly believe that dogs don’t have souls? Have you ever met a dog who wasn’t a hundred times nicer than your average human being?

The rabbit looked at Duckers, jerked his head toward Hart, and snorted. “Get a load of Mr. Grammar here. ‘From whom.’ How the fuck should I know who sent it?

Don’t ever get pregnant, McDouchebag. It’s the full-body experience from Old Hell.

people begging for food or money in the streets, people who were so ill they could barely move, people whose dreams had been crushed by time and fate and all the horrible things the Old Gods had unleashed into the world. I thought, if living is this miserable, why wouldn’t people want to leave it behind?

Mercy spent the rest of the day with a sinus headache and a mediocre novel.

No one knows what they are or where they came from. All we know is that if someone dies on Tanrian soil, they can be infected by some sort of spirit and reanimated. Most people think they’re lost souls since they infect the appendix, but since souls are invisible, there’s no way to know for sure.

I would rather have dinner with a rotting corpse than with Mercy Birdsall. A more infuriating woman I have never met.” “Are her boobs infuriating? Because you definitely got an eyeful of those.

If we are going to be friends - true friends - shouldn't we know each other as people, with all our faults and foibles included?

I can't believe what a wimp you are. You slay the undead on a regular basis. Pretty sure you can handle telling that nice lady that you wrote her some love letters.

Marshal or not, a grown man who asks a nineteen-year-old to do something stupidly dangerous is not a person with a 'strong moral compass'.

You're leaving me? All of you? Fucking fuck the Warden up the ass with Grandfather Bones's fucking tibia!

Do you have someone like this in your life, a person who rubs you the wrong way, and no matter how often you promise that you will rise above it all, you let them goad you every single time? I hope you don't, for your sake, but if you do, my condolences.

From water you come, and to water you shall return. You shall sail into the arms of the Salt Sea, and Grandfather Bones shall relieve your body of your spirit. The Warden shall open the door unto you, and the Unknown God shall welcome you into their home, where you shall know peace.

But he hadn't written to either of them in years, because at the end of the day, it wasn't like they could write back. And that was what he wanted, wasn't it? For someone - anyone - to answer?

See, that's just it. You're all gruff, but you're actually a decent human being once a person gets to know you.

If people can't remember gods, think how easily forgotten any of us are.