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What am I supposed to do with a wool coat? Especially here in Palm Springs?” “Sleep with it,” he suggested. “Think of me.

Richelle Mead

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Richelle Mead
Age: 47
Born: 1976
Born: November 12
Author
Novelist
Writer
Michigan
United States
Thinking
Palms
Springs
Coats
Supposed
Spring
Wool
Especially
Palm
Sleep
Coat
Think
Suggested

More quotes by Richelle Mead

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Metaphors. This was the cost of making out with an artist.
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Nah, you always look good. As for me … well, it's hard to explain. The auras are getting to me. There's so much sorrow around here. You can't even begin to understand. It radiates from everyone on a spiritual level. It's overwhelming. It makes your dark aura downright cheerful.
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I looked at you... and saw your goodness, your hope, and your faith. Those are what make you beautiful. So, so beautiful. So it was't my hair?
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Love and loyalty runs deeper than blood.
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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.
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I sighed and stared off without any particular focus. I miss him so much. I'm sorry, she said. Will it ever get better? The question seemed to catch her by surprise. I...I don't know.
Richelle Mead
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He leaned closer to me and then seemed shocked as he realized what he was doing. Why would you do that? Why would you do that for me?
Richelle Mead
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No,''he said.''I was a Strigoi. I was one of them. I did...terrible things.'' The words were mild, but the tone of his voice spoke legions. The radiant faces of his family turned sober.''I was lost. Beyond hope. Except...Rose believed in me. Rose never gave up.
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He sighed and then focused his eyes right on me. It was like drowning, drowning in seas of green. There was nothing in the world except for those eyes. I want to kiss you, Rose, he said softly. And I want you to want me too.
Richelle Mead
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I don't think most people take honest well. They prefer the games. They want to believe the pretty lies.
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Love is rarely flawless,” Carter pointed out. “Humans delude themselves by thinking it has to be. It is the imperfection that makes love perfect.
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Turning away, I stared at the long road winding off ahead of me. I sighed. This trip might take awhile. Then start walking, Rose, I muttered to myself. I set off, off to kill the man I loved.
Richelle Mead
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What matters is that someone—that you—know me that well. When a person can see into your soul, it's hard. It forces you to be open. Vulnerable. It's much easier being with someone who's just more of a casual friend.
Richelle Mead
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There was no me in Alchemy. Well, phonetically there was, but that wasn't the point.
Richelle Mead
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I don't want to. Believe me. But I can't help it. Rose said in time, I'll learn the control to keep his feelings out, but I can't do it now. And he has so much, Sydney. So much feeling. He feels everything so strongly— love, grief, anger. His emotions are up and down, all over the place. What happened between him and Rose . . . it tears him apart.
Richelle Mead
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You’re on the verge of getting your soul and your life back and he’s still what determines your happiness ? You don’t need a relationship to be happy, Georgina.
Richelle Mead
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It's okay, I said soothingly. You're just getting your stride back. Once you're up to full power, I'll go crack a rib or something so we can test it. She groaned. The horrible part is that I don't think you're joking.
Richelle Mead
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You were totally unprepared for her.” “That's for damned sure.
Richelle Mead
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That was Sydney Sage, said Lissa. I thought they were all in West Virginia. Why isn't she with Rose? That, said Abe darkly, is an excellent question. Because they were apparently kidnapping Jill Mastrano in Detroit, said Christian. Which is weird. But not the craziest thing I can think of Rose doing.
Richelle Mead
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She probably gave up and started playing Minesweeper. [...] We reached the cafe and found Sydney bent over her laptop, with a barely eaten Danish and what was probably her fourth cup of coffee. We slid into seats beside her. How's it—hey! You ARE playing Minesweeper!
Richelle Mead