Quote

He doesn’t beat me,” I said irritably. “I’d kill him if he did.” “She would. She has a temper. Stubborn, too. But we’re working on that, aren’t we, Ms. Lane?

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
Temper
Beat
Beats
Kill
Aren
Working
Lane
Doesn
Lanes
Would
Stubborn

More quotes by Karen Marie Moning

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Gah, some chicks should be shot. Put out of everyone else's reproduction pool.
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I'd learned a thing or two. Hope strengthens. Fear kills.
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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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We have to save the world, I reminded him. He reached for me. The world can wait. I can't.
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Don't bother trying to guilt me. Ask my other. It doesn't work.
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When Drustan reached the bottom step, she flung herself into his arms. He swung her up into his embrace and kissed her hungrily. By the time he'd finished, she was gasping for air and laughing. My turn? Dageus teased.
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As he closed the door he said over his shoulder, Because you're a good lass. A heavy sigh. And I'm no' a good man.
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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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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. I wonder if that’s what senility is.
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Sheep are always looking for a new shepherd when the terrain gets rocky.
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I have your word?” “You trust my word?” “You’re an idealistic fool. Of course.
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If you are not with me, you are against me. I have no mercy for my enemies.
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There was pain, but there was also joy. It was in the tension between the two that life happened. Imperfect as it was, this world was real. Illusion was no substitute. I'd rather live a hard life of fact than a sweet life of lies.
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I wake up wating you. I fall asleep wanting you. I watch a magnificent sunrise and can think only of sharing it with you. I glimpse a piece of amver and see your eyes. Jillian, I've caught a disease, and the fever abates only when I'm near you.
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You might be able to thrash your way out of a spiderweb, but thrashing in quicksand doesn’t work. The harder you fight, the more ground you lose. Struggling merely expedites your inevitable defeat.
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The wound you refuse to dress is one that will never heal. You gush lifeblood and never even know why. It will make you weak at a critical moment when you need to be strong.
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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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Irony, perfect definition: that for which I want to possess it, I would no longer want once I possessed it.
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Friends don’t build cages for each other.
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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.
Karen Marie Moning