Nobody wants to believe that existence carries on without at least taking a stumble from their departure of this world.
Happiness is such a fragile thing, isn’t it? So easily burst, like a bubble blown by a child, and always on the verge of being carried away.
Once a flower is picked it immediately begins to die.
What do you want to do with your life, then?” is often the question I’m asked.To be honest, I don’t know. I really don’t.Mainly because I don’t see myself living long enough for that to make much of a difference.
Death was not the scariest thing out there; no, the denial of it could be far worse.
He was everything your mother warned you about when she told you not to walk alone in the dark.
If you don’t feel the same way about him, if you’re just leading him on, you need to tell him that. I’ve seen too many nice guys get shafted because a girl can’t get over some jerk.
Humanity is a cage, and our puritanical sensibilities comprise the bars. We are confined by our own reason and intellect, and yet most of us don’t even know it.
Why did this keep happening? Why her? Perhaps there was some pheromone certain people omitted, perceivable only on a wavelength unique to those individuals who preyed on them.
When they figure out how to bottle up orgasms and sell them as a food additive, I’ll be first in line.
Only the cruelest hunters set their traps with terror and trepidation.
You want to be free. You also want to be mine. You can’t be both.
Maybe that was the root of my dislike for her: she had what I wanted, which earned her my jealousy, and since I was ashamed of myself for wanting it, my scorn, as well.
People only picked the pretty, sweet-smelling flowers. The ones with thorns were left alone.
be my sonata, my cantata, my lovesing me something sweetbut not too sweet(or i may grow deaf to our harmonyas we decrescendo into silence)
She seemed like the kind of woman who would fall in love with the sky.
He kissed her, and the magic that had been building up steadily around them exploded, raining down in arcs of silver fire that made her half-remember a prophecy from her d
I am the rightful ruler of this world And now that I, too, have awakened, like my dragons, I have come to take back what is mine.
Nothing is as deadly as the love of a powerful man.
But fairytales were, at best, dirty mirrors whose warped and pitted surfaces reflected a highly distorted view of the truth, quite different from reality.
She had come into the garden expecting summer roses and had instead been caught in a bank of twisted, thorny, frostbitten vines.
Psychological imprisonment was no less uncomfortable than its physical counterpart. In some ways, it was even worse; it provided the illusion of physical freedom, but garnered none of the benefits of it.
We spend much of our lives going about completely blind to reality, and yet we still have the gall to act victimized when it invariably catches up to us.
The villains were always ugly in books and movies. Necessarily so, it seemed. Because if they were attractive—if their looks matched their charm and their cunning—they wouldn’t only be dang
Fuck your manners.””You don’t have to settle for just my manners.
It’s like an itch, isn’t it? You can feel it in your throat. You want to scream for me.
It’s true what they say, you know. First fuck. First love. First kill. You never forget your first.
Fuck, Christina.”“Yes, fuck Christina. I think she’d like that.
My sub doesn’t pay for me,” he says, pulling me to my feet. “That just doesn’t happen.”“But we ordered so much,” I say helpl
A woman isn’t a whore for wanting pleasure. If it were unnatural, we would not be born with such drives.
In my experience, the romance novels written about BDSM have about as much in common with actual BDSM relationships as a child playing with a jump rope.
Such a dark green, his eyes. They reminded her of the forest, of all the dangers lying dormant behind that verdant cloak of leaves.
They said the shape-shifters fucked with the enthusiasm of animals—if they didn’t devour you with the enthusiasm of one first.
A quick and brutal fuck from behind usually served as an effective reminder of where you stood in the pack hierarchy.
Why do women always feel they have to settle for less?
I didn’t understand what it was about men—not all men, but a good portion of them—that turned a good, solid “NO” into an “I’m just playing coy; try harder.
You are the playground of which I have free reign.
I am waltzing with death, flirting with him, but he stands there smiling and saying nothing because he does not need to woo or be wooed: he knows he gets us all in the end.
Isn’t that just typical. You’re either asking for it, or having it forced upon you without your consent. Who decided women always have to be passive in sex?
You don’t find the concept of illicit love at all engaging?”“The concept, maybe. But in literature? That’s like ordering a glass of tap water at a bar.
In some ways blowjobs are better than sex because when you have a mouthful of cock you can’t make snide comments.
You think I’m gorgeous?”“When I look at you, all I can think about are the the different ways I’d like to fuck you.”“So that’s a yes then?” she said shyly.“No, darlin. It’s an I-hope-you-weren’t-planning-on-sleeping-alone-tonight.
I can take care of myself,” I said hotly.“Darlin, you don’t even know how to pleasure yourself.
Did you think I’d only want you once? Oh, my, you are more naïve than I thought. Why would I go through so much trouble for a mere tryst? Does a man ride a stallion but one time before condemning it to the abattoir?
I want to be your last thought at night, and your first taste at dawn.
Conquest was not satisfying if it began with a surrender.
If a woman defined herself solely by the man she was with—and vice versa—the world would be a very shallow and insipid place, indeed.
Maybe it frightened them, to admit that a woman could be master of her fate.
Girls can fight with swords, too. Sometimes, even better than men can. They just have to want it badly enough that they’re willing to work harder at it.
People rarely ventured outside the realm of their own hurts. They believed their own suffering was obvious to all, but might as well have been wearing blinders for all that they noticed anyone else’s.
Since when did psychiatry become one big, fat Myspace survey?
I was supposed to be powerless, and as a result they failed to see that I possessed claws.
So you thought you could shit and eat at the same time. How disgustingly convenient.
Now she knew living was just a brief hiatus, a blip really, in the infinite line of nothingness that composed that shadowy realm of the unknown. It could stop at any time.
I finally understood what could drive kids to show up with guns and shoot up their schools.
Knowing and doing are two separate things, and don’t always sync up in life.
When we mated I felt your heart stop beating and it was as if the world had stopped turning. It was only while surrounded by death that I realized I had never felt more alive.
The Lord teaches forgiveness, but some things are unforgivable.
Nobody should have to choose between a cold heart and a dead heart.
Everyone needs to escape sometimes, and retreating into somebody else’s fantasy isn’t nearly as satisfying as slipping into your own.
Men who thought of themselves as gods fell the farthest, and the hardest.
Fire and water, logic and reason—those footholds of reality that you mortals hold so near and dear become like so much mist on the plains of the dreamscape.
…there was a difference between killing for nourishment and killing for curiosity or sport.
You think you’re superior to the others, don’t you? We’ll you’re not. In fact you’re worse for mistaking basic human decency for moral superiority.
I bask in that sympathy because it’s nice to have somebody who cares, even if it’s the wrong person for the wrong reasons.
He was a phoenix of blood, rising from the ashes of those who had fallen and suffered before him.
We hunger in earnest for that which we cannot consume.
Be careful what you wish for. Especially out loud.
As if I’d had time to drug it in the two milliseconds she’d let me out of her sight.
What once was had, forever lost; thy fate is destined, thy love star-crossed.
If evil had a laugh, she thought it would sound like his.
Sometimes evil didn’t need an excuse. Sometimes evil just was.
You are fifty different kinds of twisted.””Only fifty? Val, you wound me.
I feel I could kill. I feel that I might like it. And I know that this should scare me. But it doesn’t. It excites me. I am in Plato’s cave, watching the shadows and fraught with the desire to hunt what casts them.
We’re all hunters in my family, you know. Deer, ducks…damsels.
That’s what I fear: being subtracted from myself. Negation. Forced against my will to become a beast.
There was something delightfully intimate about the relationship between predator and prey.
I cannot breathe, or see, nor swim,My darkness is composed of him.
Ask yourself what a man without guile might do to your body in the dark.
Don’t tell me it’s going to fucking be okay! I am not okay with being that fucker’s pinata!
Time can be as fluid as water, and never in the way you’d like; it slows down to a standstill when you wish you could get things over with, and rushes by in a blur when you wish things would last.
You can lie in any language on earth, and body language is no exception.
This softening she sees in me isn’t enough to make me affectionate, but it’s just enough to render me inept. I can’t give her what she wants — virtuousness — or what she needs — protection.
I wasn’t a complete bastard. If she liked to think she saw good in me, if she wanted to take credit for it, I’d let her. She deserved that much.
Fear could drive one to violence as quickly as anger could.
Hatred is as easy as slipping on a well-worn woolen cloak. If only it provided the comfort of one.
What was it about us, as humans, that drove us to make apologies for beautiful things?
Knowledge is a rope, and you’re weaving a noose out of it. Leave some slack for the enemy.
You would do well to guard your tongue, lest it be stricken from you.
I was afraid and knew I had every right to be, but he had awakened a part of me that no longer cared.
Most creatures run when they sense danger. People grab a six-pack and a folding chair.
That’s how it started: a series of small hurts and excuses between two people that built up slowly, widening over time to form a vast and yawning divide.
You are my star and you have made me see,” he tells her, “and I am the air beneath your wings, never rending, never ending.
One doesn’t need to be taught fear when one is the hunted.
Vampires are fond of their games. But the games that They play are different than the variants that I’m familiar with. The rules were made to be bent, broken, shattered—and somebody always gets hurt.Always.
I’m as lucky as a bed of oysters on cioppino night.
You’re like a half-tamed creature, still shy of the bridle. ‘Except you enthrall me, never shall be free.’ But freedom is an illusion, anyway.
She has built her whole life on the foundation of beauty: each chiseled plane, each sloping dimple, each soft curve as crucial as keystones in the cathedral of her body.
In her view, there were threeoptions for a woman. If you were beautiful, you got married. If youwere ugly, you became a nun. If you were beautiful and stupid, orugly and dishonorable, you became a whore.
You couldn’t find your dick in the dark, you scheming, sleaze-mongering scumwad.
We don’t have dealings. He just stalks me. I’m popular like that.
A lot of people have it in for me. It’s practically a school sport.
I’m sorry I missed the meeting and hurt your little feely-weels okay?
Hello, Mrs. Tran…I have David’s homework. And if you ever want to see it again, you’ll pay me the two million dollars I asked for.
You mean you don’t want to come in and hold my hand while I piss?
I’m pretty sure those’re my balls you’ve found,” I said to the man searching my pants. “You gonna count ’em out now? Because I’ll save you the trouble. There’s two.
We both want you dead. I’m bringing the friendship bracelets to the next meeting.
You must be a blast on long car rides.”“Oh, I am. You haven’t experienced fun until you try to fuck in the front seat of a Civic.
You were a well-respected agent, Michael, a rags-to-riches fairytale ending. Until you became disgraced. Now it appears your own organization wishes to be rid of you. Why is this?”“My gun turned back into a pumpkin.
What is your collective GPA for this year?”“Not as high as I’d like it to be.”Freud steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. “What about your parents?”“I don’t know. They haven’t been in school for a while.
Life’s a party. So smile and eat shit and pretend it’s fucking caviar.
The amount of sympathy you get from having an illness is paid out like a Ponzi scheme and psychiatric disorders are all the way at the bottom.
We’re so concerned with the idea of what we ought to be that we fail to take into account the things that make us who we really are.
My book sales are way down today. Also, I’ve received two scathing reviews. One of them calls me “a purveyor of insipid wet-dreams.
You may have bought my body, you may even have the papers to prove it, but don’t fool yourself into thinking for a moment that my heart and mind were included in the purchase.
What happened out there?”“I almost got quarking toasted by a dragon.”“A dragon,” he repeats, scandalized. “Are you mad? Or have you been skulking around the bars of Barbary XIII?
If one has never known freedom, it is easy to be blind to the gridirons composing one’s cell.
Life doesn’t come with an eraser. Experiences leave their mark, for better or for worse. Anyone who tells you otherwise has never been hurt.
I’m more than a few neurons shy of a synapse right now, and it feels absolutely fan-fucking-tastic.
She said my glasses made me look like a butch jock’s locker room bitch.
Some people are born to fandom, others have fandom thrust upon them.
That’s life. Life is the ultimate game, and its rules were made to be broken