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I often question my sanity. Occasionally, it replies.

Darynda Jones

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Darynda Jones
Age: 59
Author
Novelist
Writer
Friona
Texas
Replies
Occasionally
Sanity
Question
Often

More quotes by Darynda Jones

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I was white. Chalk had more color than I did. And quite possibly more personality.
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Then I asked her if she wanted to to the funeral, and my God, the look on her face. You'd think I'd asked her to drown the neighbor's cat. Admittedly, drowning the neighbor's cat didn't really clue me in as much as I would've liked. So, she was angry? He blinked back to me and stared. Like a long time.
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We stood there, the three of us, our jaws firmly planted on the floor. Aunt Lil recovered first. She nudged me with her elbow and said with a cackle of delight, I think you guys should make some more of those brownies, 'cause that boy looks hungry.
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You can't fix stupid, but you can numb it was a 2 by 4.--T-SHIRT
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I went down like a drunken cowgirl trying to line dance to Metallica.
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Pretending to drink coffee was similar to faking an orgasm.
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I knew dating the son of Satan would turn out badly
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Man, that woman was quick when she wanted to be. But put her behind the wheel of a Buick.
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But, you're his son, I said, trying really hard to hate him. You're the son of Satan. Literally. And you are the stepdaughter of Denise Davidson. Wow. That was a bit harsh, but, Okay, point taken.
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You’re just using me for my body.” “You don’t have a body,” I’d remind him. “Throw that in my face.” “Technically, you don’t have a face either.
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Dead people I could handle. They were usually beyond hysteria. This was the people-left behind part. The hard part.
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His gaze slid over me like a veil of fire. He could ignite my deepest desires with a single glance. I decided right then and there no more reading romance novels by candelight.
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Death comes to those who wait. And to those who don't. So either way.
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He’d actually hit me! It didn’t matter that hitting me wasn’t really like hitting a regular girl and I’d be completely healed in a matter of hours. I was still a freaking girl, and he damned well knew it. I’d just have to hit him back. With a lead pipe. Or an eighteen-wheeler.
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Want coffee? I asked, as I headed that way. It's three thirty in the morning. Okay. Want coffee?
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He said you sparkle like a newborn galaxy and have more attitude than a rich kid with his daddy's Porsche.
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She still wasn't convinced. So, if you were a guy, would you be into me? Hon, if I were a guy, I'd be gay. Yeah, me, too.
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If I couldn't be a good example, I'd just have to be a horrible warning.
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Hello? I said, because Charley's House of Pasties seemed wrong.
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Cookie had taken her daughter amber to school then walked the thirty-something feet to work earlier. Our business was on the second floor of Calamity's, my dad's bar, which sat right in front of our apartment building. The short commute was nice and rarely invloved rabid raccoons.
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