Very few people see their own actions as truly evil,... It is left to their victims to decide what is evil and what is not.
I know the universe has a sense of irony, and sometimes you get reminded just how sadistic that can be.
Most of the monsters... are based on some sort of mythology. Every culture and even some geographical areas have monsters and mythology that is their own.
I will go to my grave seeing the look on your face at the last. Keep it up and you'll go sooner than later.
Pretend I asked, now answer the question.
Would you truly sleep with strangers?" "I don't know, I haven't met the strangers yet.
One serial killer sends me a human head in a box, and I get all spooked; Go figure.
Oh, I'll enjoy myself. I want to make sure you enjoy yourself." "Why?" I said. "If you enjoy yourself, then there's a better chance you'll want to be with me again.
being physically intimidating didn't keep you from getting your feelings hurt. Everyone's heart is the same size.
Since you won't give me your names I'll call you Thing One and Thing Two.
A crowd is an elemental thing. A word, a glance, and a crowd becomes a mob.
He made a small sigh, as he swallowed the first blood, then his mouth closed over my earlobe, mouth working at the wound, tongue coaxing blood from the wound. He pressed his body the length of mine, one hand cupping my turned head, the other playing down the line of my body. Maybe it was just blood, but I never stroked my steak while eating it.
Vampires were always either trying to kill me, or own me. God I hated being popular.
No. But then the American Government--whatever branch--has never really grasped the concept of tribal identity.
I didn't want to pick at Micah and me until we unraveled. I wanted to leave it alone and enjoy it. I just didn't know how to do that.
I know you can throw holy water on the vampire, but I didn't know you could throw the host." (Sheriff St. John) I had to smile. "They aren't like little holy grenades. I want the host to give to the Quinlans so they can put one at every windowsill, every doorsill." (Anita Blake)
I didn't want to understand. Bert had been thrilled that the police wanted to put me on retainer. He told me I would gain valuable experience working with the police. All I had gained so far was a wider variety of nightmares.
How could you love someone and not want them to be happy?
Who hit you?" "Why, so you can go beat him up?" "One of the fringe benefits of being my human servant is my protection." "I don't need your protection, Jean-Claude." "He hurt you." "And I shoved a gun into his groin and made him tell me everything he knew," I said.
Now that I'm being very successful, publishers are trying to mainstream me, but I'm unabashedly genre. It's what I like to read, what I like to write
Sometimes love makes you selfish. Sometimes it makes you stupid. Sometimes it reminds you why you love your gun.
Every ruler should strive for his people to love him. But if they cannot love you, then make them fear you. Love is better, but fear will do the job.
I'm pro-choice because I've never been a fourteen-year-old incest victim pregnant by her father, or a woman who's going to die if the pregnancy continues, or a rape victim, or even a teenager who made a mistake. I want women to have choices, but I also believe that it's a life, especially once it's big enough to live outside the womb.
Self-doubt is a self-fulfilling prophecy.
Sometimes the greatest wounds are the ones we try the hardest not to inflict.
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