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You aren't afraid of throwing yourself in the path of danger, but you're terrified of letting anyone in.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Afraid
Path
Anyone
Terrified
Throwing
Letting
Aren
Danger

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I’m still here, still in love with you, and care about you more than any other guy ever will. -Adrian-
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Some part of you will always ... fight to cling to life and experience all it has. That's why you're so reckless in the things you do. You don't hold back your feelings, your passion, your anger. It makes you remarkable. It makes you dangerous
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Don't cut it, he said gruffly. But no one'll see my tattoos if I don't. Wear it up. -Dimitri, Rose, Dimitri
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Rose,” he said, forcibly trying to keep a serious tone, “I can think of many words to describe you, sexy and hot being at the top of the list. You know what’s not on the list? Sane.
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Guys do ridiculous things for love. Adrian reached into his pocket and held up a pack of cigarettes. Do you know how badly I want one of these right now? Yet I suffer, Rose. All for you.
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All we can go on is what we think, how we see the world. If you can't trust your own mind what can you trust?
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Jesse: Hey Rose, welcome back. Still breaking hearts? Rose: Are you volunteering?
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I disconnected as a sleepy Seth stepped out of the bedroom. “Who’s Dante? Was that a collect call to the Inferno?” “They won’t accept the charges,” I murmured.
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Do you want me to call you Celery Stick instead of Cupcake or Honey-Pie? It just doesn’t inspire the same warm and fuzzy feelings.
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Eddie became about one percent less tense.
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Roza. His voice had that same wonderful lowness, the same accent . . . it was all just colder. You forgot my first lesson: Don’t hesitate.
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Oh God. Why, oh why, did I have to be the one to deliver this news? Why couldn’t I be locked away in my room or the library doing something enjoyable, like homework?
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It doesn’t matter,” said Adrian, smiling. He rested a hand on my shoulder. “Some things are worth the trouble.
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You are so beautiful, it hurts me sometimes. -Dimitri to Rose
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It'd be nice to have someone who understood some of the things that went on in my head.
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Is Adrian here?” “Who?” “Adrian. Tall. Brown hair. Green eyes.” She frowned. “Do you mean Jet?” “I … I’m not sure. Does he smoke like a chimney?” The girl nodded sagely. “Yup. You must mean Jet.
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Why not see which is brighter: your aura or the sun?
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Dimitri Belikov had arrived.
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You're beautiful, Roza. So beautiful it hurts me.
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And here I thought you had a soft spot for reckless young girls.
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