Karen Marie Moning Quotes

Sometimes, Ms. Lane," he said, "one must break with one's past to embrace one's future. It is never an easy thing to do. It is one of the distinguishing characteristics between survivors and victims. Letting go of what was, to survive what is.

Don't celebrate yet, Ms. Lane. Don't believe anything is dead until you've burned it, poked around in its ashes, and then waited a day or two to see if anything rises from them.

Fire isn’t good or bad. It just burns.

What are you Barrons?” “The one who will never let you die, and that’s more, Ms Lane, than anyone in your life has been able to say to you. More than anyone else can do

They loved so intensely that moments of their life have been etched into the very fabric of the mansion. Some say the king designed it that way, so if one day he lost her he could come live with her residue.

There was no lifeboat here in these deep, killing waters, not even a lighthouse, marking the way back to shore with its soft amber promise. There was only the storm of Barrons and the one I seemed to be, and if there were dark shapes moving in the waters beneath my feet that I should probably take a good hard look at and possibly reconsider trying to swim here, I didn’t care.

A woman who’s lived in a cage all her life. And hates it. Bored in there, aren’t you. Waiting for life to happen. And when it finally does, it steals from you what you loved most. So take back. Explode. Lash out. Blow up

My heart has jet lag.

Life equaled love plus passion squared. Loving and being passionate about what one did was what made life so precious.

We were watching Barrons. Why were you watching Barrons? Barrons needs watching.

You're not falling for me, are you, Irish?" -Adam to Gabrielle

If you weaken, I'll be strong. If you get lost, I'll be your way home. If you despair, I'll bring you joy. I will love you until the end of time.

Oh, please," I rolled my eyes, "You're a leftie, Barrons." "Touche, Ms. Lane," he murmured.

Nobody looks good in their darkest hour. But it's those hours that make us what we are. We stand strong, or we cower. We emerge victorious, tempered by our trails, or fracture by a permanent, damning fault line.

But then we so rarely understand the value of what we possess until it's gone.

Samhain had its origins, like many modern holidays or celebrations, in pagan times. As the sidhe-seers had been inclined to erect churches and abbeys on their sacred sites, the Vatican had been wont to “Christianize” ancient, pagan celebrations in an if-you-can’t-beat-them-and-don’t-wantto- join-them-rename-it-and-pretend-it-was-yours-all-along campaign.

Safety is a fence, and fences are for sheep. I would rather die at twenty-two, knowing the truth, then live in a cage of lies for a hundred years.

Evil is a completely different creature, Mac. Evil is bad that believes it's good.

Strength wasn‘t about being able to do everything alone. Strength was knowing when to ask for help and not being too proud to do it.

When insane things start to arrange themselves in sane patterns around you, you know you got problems.

And now she was just Gabby, currently staying in a dreamy, magnificent castle in Scotland with a Fae prince who did all kinds of non-nasty, non-inhuman things like tearing up lists of names, and returning tadpoles to lakes, and saving people's lives. Not to mention kissing with all the otherwordly splendor of a horny angel.

I'm not good, Mac. Never have been.' What-true confession time? my eyes tease. Don't need it. 'I want what I want and I take it.' Is he warning me? What could he possibly threaten me with now? 'There's nothing I can't live with. Only things I won't live without.

He’s so beautiful,” she said wistfully. “He’s like an angel.” “Yep,” I agreed flatly. “The one that fell.

Is anyone who's supposed to be dead actually dead?

The wound you refuse to dress is one that will never heal. You gush lifeblood and never even know why. It will make you weak at a critical moment when you need to be strong.

In that you're wrong. I choose, I adhere, I pursue, I commit, I attain. That - that, my errant friend - is an absolute." - Hawk

I was adrift in a sea of questions and if answers were lifeboats, I was in imminent danger of drowning.

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

He strips his shirt over his head and I catch my breath, watching those long hard muscles ripple. I know how his shoulders look, bunched, when he's on top of me, how his face gets tight with lust, as he eases inside me. "Who am I?" "Jericho" "Who are you?" He kicks off his boots, steps out of his pants. He's commando tonight. My breath whooshes out of me in a run-on word: "Whogivesafuck?

She's too young. Too innocent. Too human. For what I'm becoming.

Barrons has something the rest of us don't have. I don't know what it is, but I feel it all the time, especially when we're standing close. Beneath the expensive clothes, unplaceable accent, and cultured veneer, there's something that never crawled all the way out of the swamp. It didn't want to. It likes it there.

You can’t look at someone with your eyes and take their measure. You have to look with the heart.

His heavy-lidded gaze reflected a languor that had nothing to do with having just awakened, and there was no doubt what was on his mind. But this is no safe cherry picker, Gwen thought, growing more concerned by the moment. This man looks like a cherry tree chopper-downer.

How dare the embodiment of her worst nightmare come packaged as her hottest fantasy?

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.

My philosophy is pretty simple – any day nobody’s trying to kill me is a good day in my book.

Chloe-lass: If I'm not here with you now, I'm beyond this life, for 'tis the only way I'll ever let you go. ... I hoped I loved you well, sweet, for I know even now that you are my brightest shining star. I knew it the moment I saw you. Ah, lass, you so adore your artifacts. This thief covets but one priceless treasure: You. Dageus -In a letter

You were firing questions at me today, trying to get inside my head. You asked if I believe in God. I told you of course I do - I've always had a strong sense of self

I am so lonely without you, Aedan," Jane said simply. "You truly want me?" "More than anything. I'm only half without you." "Then you are my woman." His words were finality, a bond he would not permit broken. She had given herself to his keeping. He would never let her go. "And you'll never leave me?" she pressed. "I'll stay with you for all of ever, lass." Jane's eyes flared, and she looked at him strangely. "And then yet another day?" she asked breathlessly. "Oh, aye.

When do these three days expire?" "That's what pisses me off. I don't know. He was annoyingly vague." "The nerve. Threatening you and not being precise about it.

And after I act as your intermediary and he takes you back to Faery, then what?" "Then all will be made right, and I'll be invincible again." She rolled her eyes. "I meant, what happens to me? While you may be the most important thing to your egotistical little self in your narcissistic little world, guess what— so am I in mine.

people were just out of control! . . . They've all got cell phones stuck to their ears and yet I've never seen such distance between people trying so hard to be close.

Sometimes the small pleasures in life are the sweetest.

You were firing questions at me today, trying to get inside my head. You asked if I believed in God. I told you of course I do- I've always had a strong sense of self. Your house is quiet now, you're sleeping upstairs and I'm alone with this blasted, idiotic book that purports to tally the sum of my life, and fact is, maybe I do. But maybe, ka-lyrra, your God doesn't believe in me. -- From The (Greatly Revised) Black Edition Of The O'Callaghan Book of the Sin Siriche Du

V'lane: Are you busy tomorrow MacKayla ? Barrons: She's working on old texts with me. V'lane: Ah. Old texts. A banner day at the bookstore. Barrons: We're translating Kama Sutra...with interactive aids.

Do you think love just goes away? Pops out of existence when it becomes too painful or inconvenient, as if you never felt it?

Do you think a woman can give a man everything while still withholding her heart? We are not made that way! - Fiona

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.