He's trying not to laugh. I tell him I would have doomed mankind for him, and he's trying not to laugh.
Life is too hard, too much to handle. Nobody told me thereÆd be days like these. How could nobody tell me thereÆd be days like these? How could they let me grow up like thatùhappy and pink and stupid?
Sometimes, I worry that there's not enough room in my brain for both my dreams and reality, that I'm a hard drive with limited gigabytes and one day I won't be able to maintain the firewall between them.
His eyes bore into mine. He watches every nuance, every detail of every expression, as if his existence depends on it. He fucks with the single-minded devotion of a dying man hunting God.
Most people are good and occasionally do something they know is bad. Some people are bad and struggle every day to keep it under control. Others are corrupt to the core and donÆt give a damn, as long as they donÆt get caught. But evil is a completely different creature, Mac. Evil is bad that believes itÆs good.
The battle had been invisible to the naked eye, but the hardest ones are.
I always thought fainting showed an inherent weakness of character, but I understood it now. It was an act of self-preservation. Confronted by emotion too extreme to handle, the body shuts down to keep from running around like a chicken with its head cut off, potentially injuring itself.
My world we humans weÆre just pawns on an immortal chessboard.
The four Keltar Druids brought their wives and children. They breed like it's their personal mission to populate their country in case somebody attacks again, as if anybody wants the bloody place.
I can't help but see myself in them. The Seelie are who I was before my sister died. Pink, pretty, frivolous Mac. The Unseelie are who I've become, carved by loss and despair. Black, grungy, driven Mac.
Never underestimate a well-dressed bimbo. The real thinkers of the world arenÆt the best dressed. Staying on top of the latestfashions, accessorizing, and presenting oneself is time consuming. It takes a lot of effort, energy, and concentration to be incessantly happy and perfectly groomed. You meet somebody like thatùask yourself what theyÆre running from.
The illusions it had woven for me had taken place only in my head. The battle had been invisible to the naked eye, but the hard ones are.
I get it the whole idea of willingly going to hell for someone. Living there insane if you have to because youÆd rather be insane with them than endure life without them.
Never underestimate a well-dressed bimbo.
The real thinkers of the world aren't the best dressed. Staying on top of the latest fashions, accessorizing, and presenting oneself is time consuming. It takes a lot of effort, energy and concentration to be incessantly happy and perfectly groomed. You meet somebody like that- ask yourself what they're running from.
A little blood never bothers me.
I hate fate. I donÆt believe in her. Unfortunately, I think the bitch believes in me.
Nobody home but She for Whom I Am the World. Can't go on like this, can't keep doing it.- Jericho Barrons
Those who were so long imprisoned in ice and darkness seem to find the sunlight jarring, painful. The longer I walk around with this grief inside me, the more I understand that. ItÆs as if sunshine is a slap in the face that says, Look, the worldÆs all bright and shiny! Too bad youÆre not.
Accept me or kill me MacKayla. But choose. Fucking Choose.
I know part of what turns me on so hard, makes me so violent with lust, is that he's dangerous. I fell for the bad guy. I'm crazy about the one who's trouble. The alpha that doesn't play well with others and doesn't take orders from anyone.
Nothing else matters. Never will. You exist in a place that is beyond all rules for me. Do you understand that?
Try a rocket launcher. Think maybe you could manage to hit me with that?
Almost only counts in hand grenades and horseshoes.
I must be dreaming. Bring that sweet ass over here and I'll show you what God made women and well-hung Scotsmen for.
On the lips of my enemy, my sisterÆs lover, my loverÆs killer, I taste the punishment I deserve. I taste oblivion.
Unpredictable as a hungry lion, he might be feared by everyone else, but he never ripped out my throat, only licked me, and, if his tongue was a little rough sometimes, it was worth it to walk beside the king of the jungle.
As he fills me, I wonder ifùin the same way that sex makes its own unique perfumeùwe donÆt really ômakeö love. As in create, manufacture, evoke an independent element in the air around us, and if enough of us did it really well, for real, not just for the hell of it, we could change the world. Because when heÆs in me, I feel the space around us changing, charging, and it seems to set off some kind of feedback loop, where the more he touches me, the more I need him to.
I wasn't prepared for death. Nobody is. You lose someone you love more than you love yourself, and you get a crash course in mortality. You lie awake night after night, wondering if you really believe in heaven and hell and finding all kinds of reasons to cling to faith, because you can't bear to believe they aren't out there somewhere, a few whispered words of a prayer away.
One day you do meet a man who kisses you and you canÆt breathe around it and you realize you donÆt need air. Oxygen is trivial. Desire makes life happen. Makes it matter. Makes everything worth it. Desire is life. Hunger to see the next sunrise or sunset. To touch the one you love. To try again.
We are not perfect. What god is Examine yours. According to your mythos he was so disappointed with his initial efforts creating your race that he tried again. At least we imprisoned our mistakes. Your god permits his to roam free. At a mere few thousand years old your creation myths are far more absurd than ours.
Christian : You two gonna stand there fucking each other with your eyes all night, or can we get on with it ?
If I'm a little girl, then that makes you a serious pervert.
Pretty girl and all. Asking. Gotta love that. Stuff of heroes. Don't get the role too often.
When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.
Desire makes life happen. Makes it matter. Makes everything worth it. Desire is life. Hunger to see the next sunrise or sunset, to touch the one you love, to try again. ôHell would be waking up and wanting nothing,ö he agrees.
I'm not the hero, Mac. Never have been. Never will be. Let us be perfectly clear: I'm not the antihero, either, so quit waiting to discover my hidden potential. There's nothing to redeem me.
Safety is a fence, and fences are for sheep. I would rather die at twenty-two, knowing the truth, then live in a cage of lies for a hundred years.
When he'd pushed inside me and I'd feel him begin to penetrate, it had turned me into a wild thing-hot, wet, and desperate for more of him. With every kiss, every caress, every thrust, I'd just needed more. He'd touched me, I went nuts. The world dwindled down to one thing: him.
Everywhere I looked, I could see only shades of gray. Black and white were nothing more than lofty ideals in our minds, the standards by which we tried to judge things and map out our place in the world in relevance to them. Good and evil, in their purest form, were as intangible and forever beyond our ability to hold in our hand as any Fae illusion. We could only aim at them, aspire to them, and hope not to get so lost in the shadows that we could no longer see the light.
Irony, perfect definition: that for which I want to possess it, I would no longer want once I possessed it.
Safety is a fence, and fences are for sheep.
You and I more than anyone else in the universe are perfect for each other.
Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever.
Is anyone who's supposed to be dead actually dead?
Silence isn't golden, it's deadly. It's a vacuum that fills up with ghosts.
You can't save people from themselves. You can only try to wake them up.
He knows what I'm thinking. Always. We're connected. The atoms between us ferry messages back and forth.
It's so easy to lie. WhatÆs even worse is how we cling to those lies. We beg for the illusion so we donÆt have to face the truth, donÆt have to feel alone.
Since the moment I laid eyes on Jericho Barrons, I wanted him. I wanted him to do things to me that pink and clueless MacKayla Lane was shocked and appalled and ... okay, yeah, well, utterly fascinated to find herself thinking about.
More Karen Marie Moning Quotations (Based on Topics)
World - Life - Night - Love - Good & Evil - Danger & Risk - Lies & Deceit - Truth - Heroism - Mind - Man - Power - People - God - Hell - Emotions - Books - Fathers - Thought & Thinking - View All Karen Marie Moning Quotations
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