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Please tell me we don't grow up and turn into the adults that drive us crazy.

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
Grows
Turns
Tell
Drive
Adults
Please
Grow
Turn
Crazy

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Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever.
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Goor or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.
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The running pants were tolerable, Drustan decided, relieved. The blue trews had clearly been a torture device and would have strangled a man's seed. Mayhap men were fashioned differently in her time. He hadn't seen one other bulge out there on the street mayhap they all had wee carrots in their trews.
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I hope they change my drugs soon. Whatever I'm on isn't working.
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You can't go forward if you're looking backward. You run into walls that way.
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Silence isn't golden, it's deadly. It's a vacuum that fills up with ghosts.
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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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It's so easy to lie. What’s even worse is how we cling to those lies. We beg for the illusion so we don’t have to face the truth, don’t have to feel alone.
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You can’t give somebody faith. They either got it or they don’t.
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Kid, you might just annoy me into killing you.
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The White Mansion isn't boring, lass. Never boring. It's the grand demesne the Unseelie King built for his concubine. It's a living, breathing love story, testament to the brightest passion that ever burned between our races. You can follow the scenes through if you've time enough and are willing to risk getting lost for a few centuries.
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Don't bother trying to guilt me. Ask my other. It doesn't work.
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Like is an emotion. Emotions”—he raised a hand, made a fist, clenched it tightly—“are like holding water. You open your hand, there’s nothing there. Better to be a weapon than a woman.
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I felt the electricity of his body behind me as he reached around me and took the card from my hand. He didn't move away, and I battled the urge to lean back into him, seeking the comfort of his strength. Would he wrap his arms around me? Make me feel safe, if only for a moment, and if only a delusion?
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Hard. Fast. Deep. When I'm done you'll know you're mine.
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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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There are only shades of gray. Black and white are nothing more than lofty ideals in our minds, the standards by which we try to judge things, and map out our place in the world in relevance to them.
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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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Being threatened seems to being out the worst in me.
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