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Dishonesty increases disorder exponentially. It's hard enough to communicate when you're telling the truth.
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
Enough
Exponentially
Hard
Dishonesty
Increases
Disorder
Communicate
Telling
Increase
Truth
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I've spent enough time behind a bar that I've formed a few opinions about what people wear and what it says about them. Guys who wear black from head to toe fall into two categories: they want to be trouble, or they are trouble.
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When he comes, he makes a noise deep in his throat that is so raw and animal and sexual that I think if he merely looked at me and made that noise, I might explode in an orgasm.
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You & I are here but the wind is everywhere. Cast no words upon it you don’t wish followed back to you.
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I wondered what one wore to visit a vampire. The chic red sweater set didn't go so well with my darker hair, and I was afraid it might be construed as a flirtatious invitation to color me bloodier.
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Jericho. Mac. Thank you for saving my life. Again.
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Finally, he knew the kind of loving that made two one and understood Jane was his world. His ocean, his country, his sun, his rain, his very heart.
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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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How does it feel, MacKayla? You have a piece of me in your mouth. Would you like another?
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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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I make a new discovery that totally blows dying is the easy part. It's coming back to life that sucks.
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The other day upon the stair, I saw a man who wasn't there. He wasn't there again today how I wish he'd go away! ~Gabrielle O'Callaghan towards Adam Black
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He'd made her feel what Barrons made me feel. Bigger than I could possibly be, larger than life, on fire with possibilities, ecstatic to be breathing, impatient for the next moment together. She'd been happy in those last months, so alive and happy.
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Is anyone who's supposed to be dead actually dead?
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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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Dude, the bush is ready. Why you still beating around it?” “I’ve lived a long time, kid, and I’ve never heard anyone mutilate the English language quite like you.
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Caring is love. And love fights! Love doesn't look for the path of least resistance.
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Moth to a flame I follow.
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