Redwall Abbey

"Jesus!" Luke exclaimed.
"Actually, it's just me," said Simon. "Although I've been told the resemblance is startling."

"Is there anything I could get for you?" he asked. "Something to drink? Some tea?"
"I don't want tea," said Clary, with a muffled force. "I want to find my mother. And then I want to find out who took her in the first place, and I want to kill them."
"Unfortunately," said Hodge, "we're all out of bitter revenge at the moment, so it's either tea or nothing."

"If there was such a thing as terminal literalism, you'd have died in childhood,"

"You see, cuckoos are parasites. They lay their eggs in other birds' nests. When the egg hatches, the baby cuckoo pushes the other baby birds out of the nest. The poor parent birds work themselves to death trying to find enough food to feed the enormous cuckoo child who has murdered their babies and taken their places."
"Enormous? Did you just call me fat?"
"It was an analogy."
"I am not fat."

"Traded him for Alec," Clary said.
"Not permanently"
"No," said Jace. "Just for a few hours. Unless I don't come back. In which case, maybe he does get to keep Alec. Think of it as a lease with an option to buy."
"Mom and Dad won't be pleased if they find out."
"That you freed a possible criminal by trading away your brother to a warlock who looks like a gay Sonic the Hedgehog and dresses like the Child Catcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang?" Simon inquired. "No, probably not."

"You don't know my father. He'll laugh in your face and offer you some money to mail my body back to Idris."
"Don't be absurd-"
"You're right. Coming to think of it, he'll probably make you pay for the shipping charges yourself."

"Well, what kind of thing does make you feel calm and peaceful?"
"Killing demons. A good clean kill is very relaxing. The messy ones are more annoying, because you have to clean up afterward--"
"No. No killing. We're trying to make you feel peaceful. Blood, killing, war, those are all non-peaceful things. Isn't there anything else you like?"
"Weapons. I like weapons."
"I'm starting to think we have a problematic issue of personal philosophy here."
"I'm a warrior. I was brought up as a warrior. I didn't have toys, I had weapons. I slept with a wooden sword until I was five. My first books were medieval demonologies with illuminated pages. The first songs I learned were chants to banish demons. I know what brings me peace, and it isn't sandy beaches or chirping birds in rain forests. I want a weapon in my hand and a strategy to win."
"So you're saying what brings you peace is war."
"Now you get it."

"But the Silent Brothers have tried everything to separate Jace from the heavenly fire, and they can't do it. It's in his soul. So what's their plan, hitting Sebastian over the head with Jace until he passes out?"
"Brother Zachariah said pretty much the same thing. Maybe with less sarcasm."

"Inanimate objects are harmless indeed, Mr. Mortmain. But one cannot always say the same of the men who use them."

"I think that nonexistent mythological creature just broke some of your toes,"

"It is the world, my boy," he said. "All the World, in ink and blood, vellum and parchment, leather and hide. It is the World, and it is yours to save or lose."

"Life is so unfair, because it is you whose visions is too small. Mistakes may become opportunities; accidents may become a chance for redemption. What seems unbalanced in a moment may become level over time, if only the canvas upon which your lives are painted is large enough."

"Don't ascribe to evil what can be attributed to well-intentioned stupidity."

"Interesting doesn't always equal practical, but being practical is always less interesting."

"You know what we have to do?"
The Italian nodded. "I know."
"You don't look too happy about it."
"Defacing a beautiful building is a crime."
"But killing people is not?" Dee asked.
"Well, people can always be replaced."

"I like places like this," he announced.
"I like old places too," Josh said, "but what's to like about a place like this?"
The king spread his arms wide. "What do you see?"
Josh made a face. "Junk. Rusted tractor, broken plow, old bike."
"Ahh...but I see a tractor that was once used to till these fields. I see the plow it once pulled. I see a bicycle carefully placed out of harm's way under a table."
Josh slowly turned again, looking at the items once more.
"And i see these things and I wonder at the life of the person who carefully stored the precious tractor and plow in the barn out of the weather, and placed their bike under a homemade table."
"Why do you wonder?" Josh asked. "Why is it even important?"
"Because someone has to remember," Gilgamesh snapped, suddenly irritated. "Some one has to remember the human who rode the bike and drove the tractor, the person who tilled the fields, who was born and lived and died, who loved and laughed and cried, the person who shivered in the cold and sweated in the sun." He walked around the barn again, touching each item, until his palm were red with rust. "It is only when no one remembers, that you are truely lost. That is the true death."

"The line between confidence and arrogance is very fine, Josh," Flamel said quietly. "And the line between arrogance and stupidity even finer. Sophie," he added, without looking at her."

"You are not living, you are surviving."

"Good or bad is a matter of perspective. I met an immortal hunami once, a man called William Shakespeare, who wrote that there is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so."

"There is always something to see, if you only know how to look."

"Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand."

"The strong survive, but the courageous triumph."

"The day we stop learning is the day we die."

"Who was it who said, 'The promise given was a necessity of the past: the word broken is a necessity of the present'?"
The Italian looked quickly at the American immortal and then he dipped his head in a bow. "I do believe I said that once...a long, long time ago."
"You also wrote that a prince never lacks legitimate reasons to break his promise," Billy said with a grin.
"Yes, I did say that.You're full of surprises, Billy."
Billy looked from the city to the Italian. "So what do you see-faceless masses or individuals?"
"Individuals," Machiavelli whispered.
"Reason enough to break your promise to your Elder master and a bird-tailed monster?"
Machiavelli nodded. "Reason enough," he said.
"I knew you were going to say that." The American immortal reached out and squeezed the Italian's arm. "You're a good man, Niccolo Machiavelli."
"I don't think so. Right now, my thoughts make me waerloga-an oath breaker.A warlock."
"Warlock." Billy the Kid tilted his head. "I like it. Got a nice ring to it. I'm thinking I might become a warlock too."

"What have you done, brother?" Anubis snarled. "You have betrayed us."
"I did what I had to do to save the world."
"Chain him," Anubis commanded. He looked at his brother and his stuff face managed to twist and contort in rage. "Waerloga,"he spat.
The Elder nodded in agreement. "Aten the Warlock. It has a ring to it, don't you think?"

"When in doubt, we follow our hearts. Words can be false, images and sounds can be manipulated. But this...' He tapped his chest, over his heart. 'This is always true."

"A warrior with a cause is the most dangerous soldier of all"

"Have you any idea how to wake a hibernating Elder?"
Machiavelli shook his head.
"Mars, what about you? Any advice?"
"Yes. Don't."

I only ever wanted to do the right thing no matter how it made people judge me, and I don't need a magic ring to do that.
You don't have to 8e alive to make yourself relevant.
And you don't have to 8e a good person to 8e a hero.
You just have to know who you are and stay true to that.
So I'm going to keep fighting for people the only way I ever knew how.
8y 8eing me.

"Shadowhunters," he said "They get in your blood, under your skin. I've been with vampires, werewolves, faeries, warlocks like me--and humans, so many fragile humans. But I always told myself I wouldn't give my heart to a Shadowhunter. I've so nearly loved them, been charmed by them--generations of them, sometimes: Edmund and Will and James and Lucie... the ones I saved and the ones I couldn't. And Clary, too, I loved, for I watched her grow up. But I've never been in love with a Shadowhunter, not until Alec. For they have the blood of angels in them, and the love of angels is a high and holy thing."
"Is that so bad?" Luke asked.
Magnus shrugged. "Sometimes it comes down to a choice," he said. "Between saving one person and saving the whole world. I've seen it happen, and I'm selfish enough to want the person who loves me to choose me. But Nephilim will always choose the world. I look at Alec and I feel like Lucifer in Paradise Lost. 'Abashed the Devil stood, And felt how awful goodness is.' He meant it in the classical sense. 'Awful' as in inspiring awe. And awe is well and good, but it's poison to love. Love has to be between equals."
"He's just a boy," said Luke. "Alec--he's not perfect. And you're not fallen."
"We're all fallen," said Magnus, and he wrapped himself up in his chains and was silent."

DAVE: karkat just threw a tantrum about a chair
DAVE: i just won karkat tantrum bingo