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

More quotes by Karen Marie Moning

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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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When you know who I am. Let me be your man.
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He'd surely been spawned by some cataclysmic event of nature, not born.
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I began peering into the corners of the room, making sure all the shadows were cast by objects and obeying known laws of physics.
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Assume' makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'.
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Liminal sucks. You can't grasp it with your hands and shape it. You can't make midnight come faster, or grow up sooner, or avoid the in-betweens. You can only hang in there, and get through them.
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He is in my soul and i am in his, and we are in bed but we are in a desert, and i do not know where he begins and i end - Mac
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Goor or evil, right or wrong, he mattered to me.
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You want to believe in black and white, good and evil, heroes that are truly heroic, villains that are just plain bad, but I've learned in the past year that things are rarely so simple. The good guys can do some truly awful things, and the bad guys can sometimes surprise the heck out of you.
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He looked blank. “He’s the one who’s been doing the magic against us?” “Duh,” I said. “Doona be ‘duh’ing me, lass,” he growled, his burr thickening.
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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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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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Even I don't know what you're doing, and I know everything.
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Gwen Cassidy needed a man. Desperately. Failing that, she'd settle for a cigarette.
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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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For the record, Irish, he informed her tightly, just in case she got the wrong idea, I kneel to no one.
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He knows what I'm thinking. Always. We're connected. The atoms between us ferry messages back and forth.
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He didn't just occupy space he saturated it. The room had been full of books before, now it was full of him.
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He had a come-and-get-me-baby-I'm-pure-trouble-and-you're-gonna-love-it kind of attitude.
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Women have been repeating the same mistake since time began: falling for a man’s potential. We rarely see it the same way, and even more rarely care to achieve it.
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