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Everything‟s fine,” I said, with a tight smile. “Kiyo was just giving me his latest explanation about how my son is a terror to be feared.” Dorian scoffed. “Little Thundro? A terror? Hardly, unless perhaps we‟re discussing diapers.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 47
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Smile
Latest
Unless
Feared
Perhaps
Discussing
Fine
Tight
Littles
Hardly
Little
Explanation
Dorian
Everything
Terror
Scoffed
Giving
Son
Diapers

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That's the great thing about being a writer. You dream up amazing questions... and then dream up even more amazing answers.
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He looked up at me with angelic eyes. Doing what? You know what. You're luring me in. You know I can't resist-
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You look confused, said Adrian. I shook my head and sighed. I think I'm just overthinking things. He nodded solemnly. That's why I try to never do it.
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I had a standing arrangement with God: I'd agree to believe in him—barely—so long as he let me sleep in on Sundays.
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You are the most boring teacher ever. He grinned and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek, just as a knock sounded at the door. It all depends on what you me to teach you.
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Wise men don't need concrete answers. By definition, they need wisdom. ~ Geraki
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The rage that had expolded inside me diffused. I didn't know where it had come from. I had a short temper and often acted impulsively,but this had been intense and ugly even for me. Weird.
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Poor Martin. Geek or no, committing his soul to eternal damnation was a helluva price to pay for six minutes.
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Really, it's my fault. It was there. A hundred times there. How often did I see it? I knew. It kept happening. Over and over, you'd say you were through with him...and over and over, I'd believe it...no matter what my eyes showed me. No matter what my heart told me. My. Fault.
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Donʹt worry now about what you canʹt change. Rest when you can so youʹll be ready for tomorrowʹs battles
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Can't you... I don't. Find a hobby or something? Being charming is my hobby.
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Oh God. She probably thinks we were off doing—you know—romantic type, um, things—
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I stared. Canadian Satanists? You're sending me to a group of Canadian Satanists?
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