My name is not Mara Dyer, but my lawyer told me I had to choose something. A pseudonym. A nom de plume, for all of us studying for the SATs. I know that having a fake name is strange, but trust me—it’s the most normal thing about my life right now. Even telling you this much probably isn’t smart. But without my big mouth, no one would know that a seventeen-year-old who likes Death Cab for Cutie was responsible for the murders. No one would know that somewhere out there is a B student with a body count. And it’s important that you know, so you’re not next.

— Michelle Hodkin

Noah's eyes held my face. I swallowed hard. The juxtaposition of him sitting in a room full of people while staring at no one but me was overwhelming. Something shifted inside of me at the intimacy of us, eyes locked amid the scraping of twenty graphite pencils on paper. I shaded his face out of nothingness. I smudged the slope of his neck and darkened his delinquent mouth, while the lights accented the right angle of his jaw against the cloudy sky outside. Furthermore, I did not hear the bell. Furthermore, I did not hear the other students rise and leave the room. Furthermore, I did not even notice that Noah no longer sat at the stool.

— Michelle Hodkin

Noah shifted on the bed, and the oddest crunching sound came underneath him. I looked, really looked, at the bed for the first time." What," I asked slowly, as I eyed the animal crackers strewn all over it, "the hell?"" You were convinced they were your pets," Noah said, not even trying to suppress his laughter. "You wouldn't let me touch them.

— Michelle Hodkin

Something inside of me began to tear.

— Michelle Hodkin

Sometimes, the biggest secrets you can only tell a stranger.

— Michelle Hodkin

Stella turned to us. "One of us is going to have to swim it. Any volunteers?" Jamie shook his head. "Not it. Sharks, first, and second of all, sharks"- The Retribution of Mara Dyer

— Michelle Hodkin

Thanks. Seriously, you must have better things to do with your life than waste it on the hopeless?'' I've already learned Parseltongue. What else is there?'' Elvish.

— Michelle Hodkin

The ability to heal does not make one good any more than the ability to kill makes one evil. Kill the right people, and you become a hero. Heal the wrongs ones, and you become a villain. It is our choices that define us, not our abilities

— Michelle Hodkin

The idea was a splinter in my mind. Always there, always stinging, even when I wasn't conscious of it. Even when I wasn't thinking about it.

— Michelle Hodkin

There is no truth," Stephanie said mysteriously. "Only perspectives.

— Michelle Hodkin