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The only place their voices were left was in my head. It was better than being alone but it was so, so lonely.

Lilith Saintcrow

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Lilith Saintcrow
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
New Mexico
United States
Anna Beguine
Lili St. Crow
Head
Alone
Voice
Left
Place
Better
Voices
Lonely

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Some days, a killing spree seems like a good idea.
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Touch me again, and it will be your last act in life - Blue Eyes.
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Boys always get the best eyelashes it's like some kind of cosmic law. And half-breed kids get some kind of extra help there from genetics, too.
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Come take a look at one of the oldest human urges- religion. After all, the only thing that makes us screwier is sex.
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It was stealing her breath, imbecile. Go get a towel. -Christophe, Strange Angels by Lili St. Crow
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It truly sucks to doubt your friends when you only have one or two of them, I realized.
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Are you listening, little bird?
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There was Kir, red hair combed back and That Expression on his sharp face. Even his freckles looked serious. I'd given up wondering how a freckle-faced teenager could look so much like a disapproving granny.
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Don't worry about me, I finally said. Really. I'm more worried about you. And even more worried about where Graves is. Are you? A fey smile lit his face, and I caught my breath. It was a shock to see him look so happy. Well, then.
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Oh God, Oh God we’re all gonna die doesn’t really fit the definition of banter, now does it?
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Some of the djamphir are so pretty it almost hurts to look at them. And it was hard to look without feeling rumpled and messy in comparison.
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What you can't run away from, you have to face
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I sensed him leaning forward. It's weird to feel someone's attention on you that way, like you're the only thing in the world they're listening to. Most of the time people are distracted, or just thinking about what they're going to say next.
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His eyebrows drew together. He was perilously close to unibrow I guess nobody had held him down and administered a good plucking to the caterpillar climbing across his forehead.
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The smell of apple pies didn't quite fill the house, but it was there, a thread under everything else. It was kind of hard to take Christophe seriously when he smelled like baked goods. I wondered if other djampjir smelled like Hostess Twinkies and sniggered to myself.
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What you cannot escape, you must fight what you cannot fight, you must endure.
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And you know, I believed him. What girl wouldn't?
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The only one, he murmured. His chin dipped a little bit. You know that, Dru? You're the only person who's ever believed in me. You know what that'll do to a guy? What?I- It makes him want to live up to it.
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His thumb stroked my cheek. My eyes half-closed. When he spoke next, it was very softly, his voice an almost-physical caress against my whole body. My flesh tightened like a harpstring. I swallowed hard against the wave of liquid heat. How can I possibly be jealous when I know you spent your time grieving for me, Dante?
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He was the only boy I'd found worth dating in God knows how many schools. I mean, ever since he'd been bitten by a werwulf he'd been rock-steady. The best thing about this totally effed-up situation.
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