Quotes from Karen Marie Moning

He wasn't just masculine and sexual, he was carnal in a set-your-teeth-on-edge kind of way; he was almost frightning.

I told you, Ms. Lane, never believe anything is dead-" "- I know, I know, until you've 'burned it, poked around in its ashes, and then waited a day or two to see if anything rises from them.

I hope they change my drugs soon. Whatever I'm on isn't working.

Whether I see the Fae, or whether I'm a man. I believe I've laid your mind to rest on the former; shall I relieve it on the latter?" He reached for his belt. "Oh, please." I rolled my eyes. "You're a leftie, Barrons." "Touché, Ms. Lane," he murmured.

Dishonesty increases disorder exponentially. It's hard enough to communicate when you're telling the truth.

He'd surely been spawned by some cataclysmic event of nature, not born.

He just didn't look like the kind of creep that would messily murder a woman in her hotel room; he looked like the kind of creep that could line her up in the sights of an assassins rifle without a shred of emotion.

I think sex with him might undo my essential cellular cohesion.

I'll give you a choice. Kill me." "By definition 'choice' mandates a minimum of two possible avenues of action." "I wasn't done. Or kiss me. But do one or the other. Before I do one or the other to you.

You can't give somebody faith. They either got it or they don't.

Mom raised us to believe that every lie puts something out there in the world that's inevitably going to come back and bite you in the petunia.

Sometimes I worry that there's not enough room in my brain for both my dreams and reality that I'm a hard drive with limited gigabytes and one day I won't be able to maintain the firewall between them. I wonder if that's what senility is.

How could they let me grow up like that—happy and pink and stupid?

Names are illusions," he growled. "Nonsensical labels seized upon by people to make them feel better about the intangibility of their puny existences. I am this. I am that," he mocked. "I came from so and so. Ergo I am … whatever the blah-blah you want to claim. Bloody hell, spare me.

I don't believe Barrons is out to destroy mankind. I don't think he particularly cares much for mankind, but I don't think he has any deep-seated desire to see us all wiped out.

I can smell you, Ms. Lane," he said, even more softly. "The only blood on you is from your veins, not your womb." My head whipped to the left and I stared at him. Ok, that was one of the more disturbing things he'd ever said to me.

Why have you chosen to spare me?" "I want us to be…what is your word? Friends." "Psychotic rapists don't have friends." "I was unaware you were a psychotic rapist or I would not have offered." "Ha." I'd set myself up for that one.

I'd turn and run but I'm anchored by two dudes that could hold the Titanic during a tsunami.

He sees her like I do: at seventeen, twenty, thirty. Superimposed over the fourteen-year-old, he sees the woman she'll become. And he's staking claim. Over. my. Dead. Fucking. Body. And I can't die.

If I entered a tropical beach, would I end up in Nazi Germany with my highly inconvenient black hair?

You & I are here but the wind is everywhere. Cast no words upon it you don't wish followed back to you.

There's no point in fighting the tide. It ebbs. It flows. You ride it.

He looked blank. "He's the one who's been doing the magic against us?" "Duh," I said. "Doona be 'duh'ing me, lass," he growled, his burr thickening.

Now you know how I justify my addictions—if I can pay less for it than I would at Wal-Mart, I get to have it.