Quotes from Laurell K. Hamilton

He should have known better than to try and intimidate me with size. I've been the smallest kid on the block for as long as I can remember. Size hadn't been impressive for a very long time.

shoved the door open with my left hand and hugged the doorsill. It worked like a charm. My gun was pointing at the bad guy's chest. Except his hands were already in the air, and he was smiling at me. "Don't shoot," he said. "It's Edward." I

I shut the door behind me and locked it, though truthfully with Edward inside I might have been safer locking myself out rather than in. He was not an imposing man, not frightening, if you didn't know him. He was five-eight, slender, blond, blue-eyed, charming. But if I was The Executioner, he was Death itself. He was the person I had seen use a flamethrower. I

As usual, I was fey enough to see the problem, but too human to fix it.

He'd let his anger take him to a place that his ass might have trouble getting out of, or maybe I just didn't understand the normal branch of the service whose badge I carried. She put her elbows on the arms of her chair, her hands like a double fist in front of her lips. "Second, get the fuck off my desk." Oh, I did understand the normal branch of the service. It worked just like all the others.

His gun was a .357 Magnum, great for whale hunting. It was overkill for anything on two legs. That was human. I felt very human staring down that gun barrel.

I stood on the ground, pulling the borrowed trench coat around me. I stood on Holly's cloak, which he had thrown on the ground to keep my bare feet from the rough ground and the cold. "The cloak gets in the way of my ax," he'd said, as if he were afraid that I might think he was being gentlemanly. Then he moved forward to be with his brother and the other warriors. Only

She tasted like sunshine. And until this second I didn't know that sunshine tasted like anything.

I needed him to touch me, and let me know that he was still my Darkness, still my Doyle. He whispered into my hair, "Merry, Merry, Merry." I clung to him, wordless, and wept.

I would move all of hell to reach your side,you know that.

Have you ever tried nodding good morning to people while naked and holding a small arsenal of weapons?

I had never yet had to try to fast draw a knife from a thigh sheath. It was probably going to look vaguely obscene, but if it kept me alive . . . hey, I can take a little embarrassment.   B

I truly expect that Vittorio will find us before the year is out. But sometimes it is better to live a short good life, than an evil long one.   Most Sincerely Yours, Gwen The

Peggy, that's my wife, she's a lycanthrope.

There comes a point where you just love someone. Not because they're good, or bad, or anything really. You just love them. It doesn't mean you'll be together forever. It doesn't mean you won't hurt each other. It just means you love them. Sometimes in spite of who they are, and sometimes because of who they are. And you know that they love you, sometimes because of who you are, and sometimes in spite of it.

Richard has informed me he's shopping for his white picket fence. I'm happy behind my black wrought-iron fence. The one with the pointy spikes on top. White never really was my color.

If I walked into the police station with Tweedle-Punk and Tweedle Slut, it was going to raise the cop's antennae.

Police work wasn't always simple, but it had clear-cut goals. You figured out who did it, or what did it, and you caught them, or killed them. Problem solved. When crime busting is easier than your personal life, something has gone seriously wrong. The

I feel like one Who treads alone Some banquet-hall deserted, Whose lights are fled, Whose garlands dead, And all but he departed! Thus, in the stilly night, Ere slumber's chain has bound me, Sad memory brings the light Of other days around me. —THOMAS MOORE

Richard sensed it and pulled away. He went around to the driver's side of his car and opened his door, leaning across to unlock mine. He didn't open the door for me. He knew better than that. I could open my own bloody door. Richard

We know it is similar to the Persian sorcerer I met in the Sandbox," Olaf said. "I know it would be weird, and too coincidental for real life, but could it be the same sorcerer with a slightly different spell, or whatever?" I asked. "Not possible," Olaf said. "Why not?" I asked. "The sorcerer was not bulletproof." "So he's dead," I said. Olaf nodded.

I was debating on whether to carry a second gun. A fashion accessory nearer and dearer to my heart than any piece of clothing.

Credo di sì.» Patrick sospirò. «Cioè, credo che sarebbe stato meno orribile se fosse stato un altro. Tu sei così piccola e carina. Non dovresti mozzare le dita alla gente.» «Oh, ti prego!»

Okay, a friend of mine told me that men are ducklings, they tend to imprint on their first lovers. Which means they tend to make love the way they are first trained to make love.