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I want to touch with my mouth. His mouth, with my mouth. Maybe his neck, too. But first things first: Make him aware I exist. It’s possible that he is already aware, if only in a ‘don't step on the small girl’ kind of way.
Laini Taylor
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Laini Taylor
Age: 52
Born: 1971
Born: December 11
Author
Novelist
Writer
Chico
California
Make
Small
Mouth
Things
Maybe
Mouths
Possible
Aware
Girl
Touch
Firsts
Step
First
Exist
Neck
Kind
Steps
Necks
Way
Already
Crush
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Boredom is a terrible affliction of the soulless.
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When it turned out that he could, Karou dropped to her knees to genuflect. Gods of math and physics, she intoned, I accept your gift of this clever fair-haired boy
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... and holy hell the chocolate is so intense and pure it should be named an element and given a spot on the periodic table. It would be Ch, which isn't even taken.
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You really think joy is easier to come by than pain? What have you had more of?
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Anyway, since when are you shy? Just talk to him already!' ' 'And say what? Nice fiddling, handsome man?' 'Absolutely.
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There are boys you look at and want to touch with your mouth, and there are boys you look at and want to wear one of those surgical masks everyone in China had during bird flu. There are a lot more bird-flu boys at large.
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Kissing can ruin lives. Lips touch sometimes teeth clash. New hunger is born with a throb and caution falls away. A cursed girl with lips still moist from her first kiss might feel suddenly wild like a little monsoon. She might forget her curse just long enough to get careless and let it come true. She might kill everyone she loves.
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The truth, she found, felt smooth, like a skipping stone in the palm of your hand.
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How could you tell if your instincts were just hope in disguise, and if your hope was really desperation parading as possibility?
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I want to build spires in their minds and dance shadows through like marionettes, chased by whispers and hints of the unspeakable.
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Jael returned the lazy smile. You're not my type. Well, you're not anybody's type, said Hazael. No, wait. I take it back. My sword says she'd like to know you better.
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Like attracts like, beauty finds beauty, and freaks look on from the smoking section, aching.
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I miss sunrise even more. The green scent of dawn in the forest? The color blushing back into the world, different every day.
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To a new generation of butterflies, hopefully less stupid than last. Maybe they were burgeoning even now in fat little cocoons. Or maybe not.
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Her courage was a guise. She wondered if courage always was, or if there were those who truly felt no fear.
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If it's not chocolate, it's not breakfast.
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Icon of Prague, the medieval bridge crossed the Vltava between Old Town and the Little Quarter. Gothic bridge towers rose on both sides, and the whole span — pedestrian-only — was lined by monumental statues of saints.
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It was interesting the way a small hate could grow inside a big hate and take it over.
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With the infinite patience of one who has learned to live broken, he awaited her return.
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He was right. It made no sense at all, but the feeling flooded through Karou, and whatever it was, it was as sweet as a patch of sun on a glossy floor and, like a cat, she just wanted to curl up in it.
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