Quote

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.

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
Might
Harder
Thrashing
Work
Fight
Thrash
Way
Lose
Quicksand
Loses
Struggling
Struggle
Inevitable
Fighting
Defeat
Doesn
Ground
Able
Merely

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You've been doing something bad since the moment you met me, lass.
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I moistened my lips. His gaze fixed on them. I think I stopped breathing. He jerked so sharply away that his long dark coat sliced air, and turned his back to me. “Was that an invitation, Ms.Lane?” “If it was?” I asked, astonishing myself. What did I think I was doing? “I don’t do hypotheticals. Little girl.
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Jericho Barrons just told me he loves me.
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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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Goor or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.
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Chloe-lass: If I'm not here with you now, I'm beyond this life, for 'tis the only way I'll ever let you go. ... I hoped I loved you well, sweet, for I know even now that you are my brightest shining star. I knew it the moment I saw you. Ah, lass, you so adore your artifacts. This thief covets but one priceless treasure: You. Dageus -In a letter
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And then what? Said, 'Oh, I'm so sorry, Ms. Lane, I didn't mean to wrinkle your lovely blouse. May I press that for you?' Or perhaps you gouged it with one of your pretty pink nails? I was really beginning to wonder what his hang-up with pink was, but I didn't resent the sarcasm in his voice.
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Love knows no right or wrong. Love is. Only is.
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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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He made a lousy passenger, barking instructions I ignored
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Friends don’t build cages for each other.
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Hard. Fast. Deep. When I'm done you'll know you're mine.
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Oh ye of little faith. Not for IYD... But you didn't even try.
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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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If I'm a little girl, then that makes you a serious pervert.
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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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Assume' makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'.
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You could ask me to teach you.” “Huh?” This night is getting weird in a hurry. “Teach me like you’re teaching a class or something? What are you going to call it: ‘You Too Can Be a Sociopath 101’?” “It would be more like a graduate-level class.” I start to snicker. His sense of humour sneaks up on you. Then I remember who’s talking and bite it off.
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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 is trust, sidhe-seer, but expectation that another will behave in a certain fashion, consistent with prior actions?
Karen Marie Moning