You do angry. I just saw it. And you left at least one hole in my carpet to prove it.
Pamela Smith and Benjamin Schmidt have gathered together a wide-ranging and provocative set of original essays that successfully demonstrate how contingent the process of making knowledge was during a period of fundamental epistemological change. This is a finely crafted and conceptualized collection.
I was planning on starting a new file on my computer with the title "Phrases That Sound One Way to Witches but Mean Something Else to Vampires.
Are you smelling me?” After yesterday I suspected that my body was giving him all kinds of information I didn't want him to have. “Don't tempt me,” he murmured.
Desire urges me on as fear bridles me" Bruno.
Matthew kept hinting that his desire - for blood, chiefly- was so strong that it put everything else at risk. But vampires weren’t the only creatures who had to manage such strong impulses. Much of what qualified as magic was simply desire in action. Witchcraft was different- that took spells and rituals. But magic? A wish, a need, a hunger too strong to be denied- these could turn into deeds when they cross a witch’s mind.
The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion that stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed (Albert Einstein)
It begins with absence and desire. It begins with blood and fear. It begins with a discovery of witches.
I'd studied 16th century science and magic. I thought it was strange that people were interested in the same kinds of things my research was about. The more I thought about it, the more intriguing it became and pretty soon I was writing a novel about a reluctant witch and a 1500-year-old vampire.
The plain truth is that the period I study is the 16th century, and they were absolutely obsessed with witches and spiritual beings.
Be yourself-- Matthew Clairmont. Complete with your sharp vampire teeth and your scary mother, your test tubes full of blood and your DNA, your infuriating bossiness and your maddening sense of smell.
Wordlessly I looked back at him, astonished that a kiss on the palm could be so intimate.
Her bark is worse than her bite.
I know,I can smell it, too.
Gallowglass returned to Sporrengasse with two vampires and a pretzel.
Be still,” he said, voice harsh. “I might not be able to control myself if you step away.
Sir. My lord. Master Roydon." The young man blurted out most available titles except for "Your Majesty" and "Prince of Darkness." These were implied nonetheless.
My experiences thus far had me planning to throttle the first Tudor historian I met upon my return for gross dereliction of duty.
We kissed each other, long and deep, while my legs opened like the covers of a book.
Sorry, we've got ghosts.
My ideas about vampires may by romantic, but your attitudes toward women need a major overhaul.
It was a brutal picture, a tug-of-war between two equal but opposing impulses. It had the ring of truth, however.
His full name is Matthew Gabriel Philippe Bertrand Sebastien de Clermont. He was also a very good Sebastien, and a passable Gabriel. He hates Bertrand and will not answer to Philippe.
I want a simple, ordinary life . . . like humans enjoy.
English vampires may not be as well behaved around witches as the American ones are.
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