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I don't think most people take honest well. They prefer the games. They want to believe the pretty lies.
Richelle Mead
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Richelle Mead
Age: 48
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Lying
Wells
Well
Take
Prefer
Believe
Lies
Think
Honest
Thinking
Pretty
People
Games
More quotes by Richelle Mead
I supposed if you were going to make a career of breaking laws, you might as well know them.
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Behaviors and feelings rarely line up
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Even now, despite Angeline's watchfulness, she'd occasionally oscillate between random topics, like how shepherd's pie wasn't a pie at all and why it was pointless for her to take class in typing when technology would eventually develop robot companions to do it for us.
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Well, well, well, I said. If it isn't the people responsible for unleashing Rose Hathaway on the world. You've got a lot to answer for.
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I get in that kind of situation all the time, Comrade. It's not a big deal. Anger replaced my fear. I didn't like being treated like a child. Stop calling me that. You don't even know what you're talking about. Sure I do. I had to do a report on the R.S.S.R. last year.
Richelle Mead
I shook my head and turned away, unable to hear this. “I’m leaving now. I really don’t want to see you again. Nothing personal. Well, yeah, actually it is.
Richelle Mead
Life and death were so unpredictable. So close to each other. We existed moment to moment, never knowing who would be the next to leave the world. I was still in it, barely, and as I looked up from the ashes, everything around me seemed so sweet and so beautiful. The trees. The stars. The moon. I was alive -- and I was glad I was.
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The world of the dead wonʹt give you up a second time.
Richelle Mead
I had no reason to get all goofy, just because the man was too good-looking for his own good.
Richelle Mead
Tawny, I barked. My voice held the authority of a drill sergeant. She jumped. I am NOT making out with you until the end of time. You want to do this, then you've got to work for it. Now, TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES. Oh, said Hugh. I've waited ten years to hear you say that to another woman.
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Because it's simple, I love you, and I don't want to keep pretending like I don't. -Rose to Dimitri
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No. . .I mean, I'm sorry he. . .You know, said those things to you. It's part of being a 'good' family. Everyone's got skeletons in their closet.
Richelle Mead
Somehow, Sydney had an internal clock that told her when time was up. I think it was part of her inherent ability to keep track of a hundred things at once. Not me. In these moments, my thoughts were usually focused on getting her shirt off and whether I’d get past the bra this time. So far, I hadn’t.
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Can't you . . . I don't know. Find a hobby or something? Being charming is my hobby, said Adrian obstinately. I'm the life of the party— even without drinking. I wasn't meant to be alone.
Richelle Mead
So much grief, so much anger. So unlike the usual Adrian.
Richelle Mead
No, he said, voice thick and husky. His fingers dug into the chair's arms. You'd better not get too close. I stopped, laughing softly. You don't strike me as the assaulting type, Mortensen. Yeah, well, there's a first time for everything.
Richelle Mead
He'd written me up a proposal of why dating him was a sound decision. It had included things like I'll give up cigarettes unless I really, really need one and I'll unleash romantic surprises every week, such as: an impromptu picnic, roses, or a trip to Paris—but not actually any of those things because now they're not surprises.
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My muse is an ungrateful harlot who’s abandoned me to actually come up with my own plots.
Richelle Mead
Ever since Dimitri came back...no, scratch that. Ever since you became obsessed with changing him, you've been torn over me. No matter what's happened between us, you've never really given yourself over to our relationship. I wanted to believe what you told me. I thought you were ready...but you weren't.
Richelle Mead
Since when do we even play games?” “Since when don’t we play games? Games of life, games of death. Games of love, of hope, of chance, of despair, and of all the myriad wonders in between.” I rolled my eyes at the newcomer. “Hello, Carter.
Richelle Mead