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Oh God, Oh God we’re all gonna die doesn’t really fit the definition of banter, now does it?
Lilith Saintcrow
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Lilith Saintcrow
Age: 49
Born: 1976
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
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New Mexico
United States
Anna Beguine
Lili St. Crow
Really
Banter
Definition
Definitions
Fit
Gonna
Dies
Doesn
Doe
More quotes by Lilith Saintcrow
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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Besides, the normal people here wouldn’t see it. That was what “different” meant. It’s just another word for lonely.
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most of us, as we undergo the growing up process, do not get what we want or even what we should. We get what we have, and no more, and we find out how to make what we have work for us.
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They all looked like a shampoo commercial, healthy and clear-skinned, perfectly proportioned, a group of handsome young men. Their clothes hung on them like they were glad to be gracing such supermodels.
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Touch me again, and it will be your last act in life - Blue Eyes.
Lilith Saintcrow
What you can't run away from, you have to face
Lilith Saintcrow
Zombies smell worse than anything you can imagine if you haven’t been hunting things on the dark side of the world. It’s a ripe, gassy odour, like rotting eggs and meat gone bad, crawling blind with maggots. It’s road kill and decayed food and body odour all rolled into one package and tied up with puke.
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Oh, dear me. Nathalie sank back down in the chair and examined her Uggs. The sarcasm could've started dripping off her and stained the floor. Is it conspiracy, treachery, murder, or open warfare? I'll have to choose my lipstick accordingly.
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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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Some days, a killing spree seems like a good idea.
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His shoulder bumped mine again. Can I ask you something? I didn't answer. He was going to ask me anyway. People don't say that if they don't want to pry something out of you.
Lilith Saintcrow
I guess since the groin is the center of a guy's world, he rarely guesses it isn't the center of yours.
Lilith Saintcrow
I wasn't sure if the word boys should mean dim or incomprehensible. I was hovering between the two, with a healthy dose of testosterone-poisoned.
Lilith Saintcrow
God, was I going to have another day of painful thoughts jumping me every time I relaxed? The obvious solution—to just not relax—was kind of sucking.
Lilith Saintcrow
Christophe, with the careful tone of an adult telling a kid not to pet the nice foaming-rabid pooch.
Lilith Saintcrow
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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I looked like a ghost. And I should know. I’ve seen a few.
Lilith Saintcrow
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.
Lilith Saintcrow
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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Graves: Are you skipping? Off to a good start. Dru Anderson: I don’t want to deal with it today. Graves: Okay. I know a place to go. You shoot pool? I’m Graves. Dru Anderson: I know. Dru. Graves: Dru. You’re new. Couple of weeks, right? Welcome to Foley.
Lilith Saintcrow