Quotes from Karen Marie Moning

You loved me." It wasn't a question, but he answered it readily. "I do. More than life. My heart. I didn't just pick a sweet turn of phrase to name you, but spoke from my soul when I named you thus. Without my heart I couldn't live. And I couldn't breathe without you." "Are you a man who has more than one heart?" "Nay. Only this one. But it's bitter and dark now from the pain I've brought you.

You will most certainly scream. I promise you that.

Benimle bir kere düzüÅŸürsen onunla düzüÅŸmeni affedebilirim.

He will concede for her. Always only for her.

Werewolves? Oh please, just plain stupid. Who wants to get it on with a man who's ruled by his inner dog? As if all men aren't anyway, even without the lycanthrope gene.

Keep watching rainbows, baby. Keep looking at the sky. You find what you look for. If you go hunting good in the world, you'll find it. If you go hunting evil … well, don't.

I don't smile. My smiles don't make people relax.

The house was decorated in unrelieved white and black. The people were, too. If it were up to me, I would carry a great big paintbrush around with me all the time, splashing color everywhere, decorating the world with peach and mauve, pink and lavender, orange and aquamarine. These folks seemed to think leeching the world of all color was cool. I decided they all must be deeply depressed.

But when you fight evil every day, stare it in the face, engage it, learn to think like it, you face a choice:Be defeated by the limits of your own morality, or summon a beast in yourself that obeys none.

Och, Christ, woman," he hissed. Devouring the space between them in two strides, he cupped her jaw with one big hand, tipped her face up, and claimed her mouth in a kiss. Once, twice, three times. Then he drew back and glared down at her. "I thought you were dead. I couldn't fucking get out of there and I thought of a thousand things I'd done wrong and imagined a million deaths for you. Kiss me, Jessica. Show me you're alive.

Power is not good or evil. It is what it is in the hands of the wielder.

The devil is in the details. So, sometimes, is salvation.

Grimm?" "Um?" "I hate you." "I know, lass. You told me that last night. It seems all our little 'discussions' end on those words. Try to be a bit more creative, will you?

You will not look at me," she heard him say to the valets. "You will see only her." A silence. Then, "And you will not look at her breasts.

I loved him. I hadn't wanted to, but I did, and it was too late to change because once my heart went somewhere, I couldn't pull it back. It's a glitch in my wiring.

Wrong on that score. And efficiency is no guarantee of survival. Nor is intellect. What it takes to be the last one standing is an unquenchable hunger to live. He who wants it the most wins. It takes fire, willingness to burn down to your motherfucking core.

A woman is an occasion. My dick rises to it.

You must be meticulous about the thoughts you send out into the universe. It's listening.

I would have bargained with the devil for you, too, lass," he said softly. "I'd have done anything too. I love you, Jessica. You are my one true mate, lass. Never forget that.

It wasn't an 'event.' It was a motherfucking revelation.

I'm sorry, Silvan. I didn't mean to wake you." "I wouldn't have missed seeing my son getting barricaded in the privy by a wee lass for anything. Bonny fortune with your plan, m'dear.

Why have you always cared so much about these tiny worlds?" "Why have you never?" He had once. When she'd cared about him. He'd made himself small for her and walked in her manner, tending small things. But being small was so much more complicated than being God.

Rowena was wrong. She was so wrong. There are only shades of gray. Black and white are nothing more than lofty ideals in our minds, the standards by which we try to judge things, and map out our place in the world in relevance to them. Good and evil, in their purest form, are as intangible and forever beyond our ability to hold in our hand as any Fae illusion. We can only aim at them, aspire to them, and hope not to get so lost in the shadows that we can no longer aim for the light.

Fear of the power you believe someone or something has over you is nothing but a jail cell you choose to walk into.