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Nobody looks good in their darkest hour. But it's those hours that make us what we are. We stand strong, or we cower. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trails, or fracture by a permanent, damning fault line.
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
Good
Line
Victorious
Nobody
Darkest
Stand
Trails
Lines
Emerge
Hours
Fault
Cower
Strong
Permanent
Damning
Looks
Faults
Fracture
Make
Hour
Tempered
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Moth to a flame I follow.
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I make a new discovery that totally blows dying is the easy part. It's coming back to life that sucks.
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And after I act as your intermediary and he takes you back to Faery, then what? Then all will be made right, and I'll be invincible again. She rolled her eyes. I meant, what happens to me? While you may be the most important thing to your egotistical little self in your narcissistic little world, guess what— so am I in mine.
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Even now, my back was still arched with sensual invitation, my bottom was questing up like a cat in heat, and my every move was supple, sinuous. I was one great big come-hither.
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You mean you have to be epic already, for it to make you more epic?
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The kind of person that thanks another person never survives. Have you learned nothing?
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The kiss....was not meant to seduce, it was meant to mark a woman's soul. Chloe
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Kid, you might just annoy me into killing you.
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Never underestimate a well-dressed bimbo.
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Some people bring out the worst in you, others bring out the best, and then there are those remarkably rare, addictive ones who just bring out the most. Of everything.
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Nobody home but She for Whom I Am the World. Can't go on like this, can't keep doing it.- Jericho Barrons
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I've learned a thing or two from Barrons: Power is sexy. It shapes my spine, infuses my beckoning hand. I have not been devastated by Barrons' death. The alchemy of grief has forged a new metal. I have been transformed. There's only one way I can make his death okay. Undo it.
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All my life, up until that moment, I'd had a warm, protective blanket wrapped around me, knitted of aunts and uncles, purled of first and second and third cousins, knot-tied with grandmas and grandpas and greats. That blanket had just dropped from my shoulders. I felt cold, lost and alone.
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Grief shared was grief lessened.
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Love knows no right or wrong. Love is. Only is.
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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.
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Gah, some chicks should be shot. Put out of everyone else's reproduction pool.
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Gwen Cassidy needed a man. Desperately. Failing that, she'd settle for a cigarette.
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Barrons, Jericho: I haven't the faintest fecking clue. He keeps saving my life. I suppose that's something.
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What are you? A man with a rope? Ha-ha.
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