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Sometimes the small pleasures in life are the sweetest.

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
Sometimes
Life
Sweetest
Pleasures
Small
Pleasure

More quotes by Karen Marie Moning

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Holy borrowing bibliophile, let's book!
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I get off on a man with strong moral fiber. The closest Barrons ever gets to fiber is walking down the cereal aisle at the grocery store.
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Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does job applications anymore?” “I do.” I squint at it, then him. “What are you paying me?” I angle. “Dude. Post-apocalyptic world. Who does money anymore.” I snicker. First sign of any sense of humor he’s shown. Then I remember where I am and why. I wad it up and throw it at him. It bounces off his chest.
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Assume' makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'.
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Being threatened seems to being out the worst in me.
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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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It's often only in the lies we refuse to speak that any truth can be heard at all.
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He was still frowning at the cake, looking at it as if he expected it to sprout dozens of legs and begin scuttling toward him, thin-lipped, teeth bared.
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Life is not black and white. The closes we ever get to either of those colors is wearing them.
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Sometimes my dreams feel so real it's hard to believe they're just the subconscious's stroll across a whimsical map that has no true north.
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... You have me in your mouth, you don't get anybody else. Or you don't get me. - Jericho Barrons
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And now she was just Gabby, currently staying in a dreamy, magnificent castle in Scotland with a Fae prince who did all kinds of non-nasty, non-inhuman things like tearing up lists of names, and returning tadpoles to lakes, and saving people's lives. Not to mention kissing with all the otherwordly splendor of a horny angel.
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Life is too hard, too much to handle. Nobody told me there’d be days like these. How could nobody tell me there’d be days like these? How could they let me grow up like that—happy and pink and stupid?
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Kid, you might just annoy me into killing you.
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Propping the mirror against the wall near the door, he waved a hand at it and clipped, Drustan: Cian MacKeltar. Cian: Drustan MacKeltar. Dageus, Drustan's voice was soft as velvet, never a good sign, why are you introducing me to a mirror?
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His heavy-lidded gaze reflected a languor that had nothing to do with having just awakened, and there was no doubt what was on his mind. But this is no safe cherry picker, Gwen thought, growing more concerned by the moment. This man looks like a cherry tree chopper-downer.
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Nobody looks good in their darkest hours. But it's those hours that make us what we are.
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You can’t give somebody faith. They either got it or they don’t.
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I was adrift in a sea of questions and if answers were lifeboats, I was in imminent danger of drowning.
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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.
Karen Marie Moning