Book: Chronicles Bane

I thought that love the game. This is not so. Love is more important than death.

Women's hearts - like the porcelain on the mantelpiece. A lot of them, and so easy to break one without even noticing.

Naive boy - he still doesn't know what a broken heart!

Here it is, the way of the warrior, thought Magnus. The duty above all else. And certainly before love.

... life is good and fate is cruel and merciless.

Philosophy of life Magnus was to always move forward <...>. If he does not constantly move forward, someone may see what it really is. Not that he was so terrible, but in my head still sounded the voice:
- Constantly move, otherwise the illusion will collapse.

A true artist knows when to retire.

One day, all of whom we know, be just you and me.

Hi, Magnus. It's Alec. Alexander. Apparently, you just don't want to talk to me. Can understand. But I really think that if we were together... if I could explain it to you... it's hard to Express what I feel. I'm sorry, but I thought you could always understand what I mean. I don't want to break that connection. I don't want to lose you, Magnus. I extremely want to talk with you, but I can't, and so I'm telling you all of this in the tube...
I'm really terribly sorry. I just want you to know that.

- Camille...
I know there is no turning back. Just say you were never like me.
And to Camilla, and after that Magnus had a lot of women. But Camille was the only one of its kind, and in fact was very powerful feeling.
"No," he replied. - Like you, was not there.

- I would not call this thing a musical instrument. Rather, an instrument of torture, sourly noted Ragnor.
Magnus hugged Charango like they were touchy, petulant child.
Is a unique tool. The resonator is made of an Armadillo! That is out of his shell.
- That explains why he has such a sound. The howl of the hungry, the lost Armadillo.
- You're just jealous, calmly said Magnus. - You are not an artist in the soul, not what I do.
- Oh, I'm just green with rage, snarled Ragnor.
Ragnar, you know I love it when you joke about the colour of his face.
Magnus roughness of Ragnor did not hurt. He condescendingly looked at him, raised Charango and continued to play their beautiful melody dersou.
Suddenly both heard the sound of a woman's legs and the rustle of skirts in the yard ran into Katherine. Her hair was developing, and his face was troubled.
- Magnus, Ragnor! I heard screams like a cat! The poor animal must be suffering terribly. Help me find him!

Jocelyn Fairchild - said Tessa. - Descended from Henry Branwell and Charlotte Fairchild.
Jocelyn blinked, as if not expecting a lecture about his ancestry.
"Right," she said gently.
- You see, I knew them, explained Tessa. - You look a lot like Henry.
- Knew them? Then you must be...
"Yes," said Tessa. - I am Theresa gray, daughter of the Great Demon and Elizabeth gray, who was born Adele Starkweather, one of your. I was the wife of William Arandale, who was the head of the London Institute, and mother of James and Lucy Arandela Blackthorne. Will and I raised our children, Twilight hunters, to protect the mortals that live by the Laws of the Conclave and of the Contract and to adhere to the Agreement.
She spoke in a familiar manner - the manner of the Nephilim.
- Once I lived among the Twilight hunters - murmured Tessa. - I looked almost like you.

Magnus often thought about having a pet, but to get sullen vampire-a teenager was not included in his plans. As soon as Rafael was out of sight, he decided that he would take the cat. And every year will celebrate her birthday.