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When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.

Karen Marie Moning

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Karen Marie Moning
Age: 60
Born: 1964
Born: November 1
Author
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Cincinnati
Ohio
Stand
Dies
Lasts
Last
Part
Kisses
Kissing

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My heart has jet lag.
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Words are easy lies as simple as parting your lips and breathing.
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Lies are horny little buggers, they breed like rabbits and bound around just as insanely and then you have to try to keep track of them.
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She's too young. Too innocent. Too human. For what I'm becoming.
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One day you will kiss a man you can't breathe without, and find that breath is of little consequence.
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He closes his hand around mine and I hold on. I like his hand. It's big and holds easy but sure. It's the kind of hold that says, I got you if you want me, but I'll let you go if you feel like running for a while.
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It's a sponge and I'm a sponge and for a second there all our sponge parts are one and I don't just have square pants, everything about me is squarish because I'm part of a wall.
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The two of you are getting downright chatty, aren't you, Ms. Lane? When did you last see him? what else did he tell you? I'm asking the questions tonight. If an illusion of control comforts you, Ms. Lane, by all means, cling to it.
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The battle had been invisible to the naked eye, but the hardest ones are.
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Some people fall apart when they get hurt. Puddle into apathy and despair and never recover. They wait all their lives for someone to come along and rescue them.
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Barrons laughed again. And there, my dear Fio, you make one of Womankind's greatest mistakes: Falling in love with a man's potential. We so rarely share the same view of it, and even more rarely care to achieve it. Stop pining for the man you think I could be -- and take a good, long, hard look at the one I am.
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One day you do meet a man who kisses you and you can't breathe around it and you realize you don't need air.
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When do these three days expire? That's what pisses me off. I don't know. He was annoyingly vague. The nerve. Threatening you and not being precise about it.
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Using your own time to make someone else’s life better is, like, the nicest thing you can do for anybody.
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I am a kite in a tornado but I have a long string. There is tension in my line. Somewhere, someone is holding onto the other end and, although it cannot spare me this storm, it will not let me be lost while I regain my strength. It is enough.
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I would wear pink because I knew my future was anything but rosy. I would accessorize myself to the hilt, and I would wear flirty shoes because my world needed more beauty to counter all the ugliness in it. I would wear pink because I hated gray, I didn’t deserve white, and I was sick of black.
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Yesterday is skin on snake, to be shed many times.
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You believe in God? Dude. Only God could have created physics.
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Tuatha De do not walk the human realm alone. Actually, they don't walk alone much anywhere. Only the occasional rogue Fae will do so. Like yourself? Yes Most of my kind have no fondness for solitude. Those who walk alone are not to be trusted. Really, she said dryly. Except for me, he amended, with a faint, insouciant grin.
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We will K‘Vruck the world.
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