M. K. Hobson Quotes

He’s lying. I have no doubt he’s excellent at it.

I'm sorry Mr. Stanton, really I am. I didn't mean to miss it. Things...happened.
"Oh, well. Things happened. How nice to have that cleared up."

Emily already knew there was going to be hell to pay, and she supposed there was no use allowing it to accrue interest.

Nothing is ever what you want it to be. The harder you grab for it, the more deeply it cuts. And it mocks you for being foolish enough to reach for it at all. You come to fear touching anything at all, because you know that if you do, it will become terrible.

It was disappointing, as if a wish she didn’t know she’d made hadn’t come true.

Emily’s chestnut-colored hair was thick and shiny as silk floss—an extraordinary female endowment. But like most female endowments, it was generally more trouble than it was worth.

Was your mother furious?
"She'll get over it," Stanton said. "Perhaps not in this lifetime, but I happen to believe in reincarnation, so there's still hope."

It was her own evil assumptions that had done her in. She hadn’t even considered the third possible explanation for his strange behavior—that he was a perfectly nice man, without an ounce of guile, just trying to be helpful. People helped people in California. Why hadn’t she thought of that? She’d only been in New York a few weeks, and already she was turning hard and suspicious.

The shortness of the woman’s replies indicated that Emily was asking questions Miss Jesczenka didn’t particularly want to answer, but those were usually the questions that most needed to be asked.

Dignity is like morality, Mirabilis barked. Too much is as bad as too little.

Love. Such a lot of damn fuss.

She wanted to crawl into his arms and be soothed, and soothe him in return, and forget all the grand ideas she’d ever had about true love, and the necessity for it. Because true love was a load of baloney. Finding a good friend...a good friend who trusted you...was more than enough.

Zombies are soulless creatures, and being soulless has been empirically proven to result in an unpleasant disposition.

In his idle hours, Heusler sometimes amused himself by trying to conceive of a crime a mortal man could commit that was more monstrous than making a goddess fall in love with him. He had never succeeded.

Emily stared into the middle distance, trying to ignore the fact that the men were looking at her like a cupcake on a plate.