Patricia Briggs Quotes

Some people are like Slinkies. They aren't really good for anything, but they still bring a smile to my face when I push them down a flight of stairs.

MS. THOMPSON, it said in heavy block letters, PLEASE KEEP YOUR FELINE OFF MY PROPERTY. IF I SEE IT AGAIN, I WILL EAT IT.

I don't like it when I outweigh my men.

Women are the bloodthirsty sex," said Ric sadly. "We get the reputation, but it is only because the women stand behind us, and say, 'Kill it. Squish it.

A man says a lot of things in summer he doesn't mean in winter.

Why is it that all cars are women?" he asked. "Because they're fussy and demanding," answered Zee. "Because if they were men, they'd sit around and complain instead of getting the job done," I told him.

Never trust a mechanic who drives new cars. They're either charging too much money for their work, or they can't keep an old car running - maybe both.

Love thy enemies, it says in the scriptures. My foster mother always added, "At the very least, you will be polite to them.

Mine," he said. Adam's eyes narrowed. "I don't think so. She is mine." It would have been flattering, I thought, except that at least one of them was talking about dinner and I wasn't certain about the other.

One of the oddest things about being grown-up was looking back at something you thought you knew and finding out the truth of it was completely different from what you had always believed.

Anger is stupid, and stupidity will kill you more surely than your opponent's blade.

Only cowards torture women.

She wondered that hope was so much harder then despair.

Sometimes I have the urge to conquer large parts of Europe.

That’s a pretty lame superhero name,” I told him. “Scooby-Doo is already taken,” he said with dignity. “Anything else sounds lame in comparison.

Nothing says you're sorry like a dead bunny.

Some people are boys longer than others.

It is one of those lessons that every child should learn: Don't play with fire, sharp objects, or ancient artifacts.

Dance when the moon sings, and don't cry about troubles that haven't yet come.

Hard truths can be dealt with, triumphed over, but lies will destroy your soul.

A werewolf tossed me against a giant packing crate while I was trying to rescue a frightened young girl who'd been kidnapped by an evil witch and a drug lord.

He was like Superman, but with fangs and oddly impaired morals.

Over a lifetime of dealing with difficult women, I have learned it is often better to give into their demands immediately.

When I die of heart failure the next time you frighten me like that, you can put that on my gravestone—‘I didn’t mean to startle her.

Intelligent men are dangerous.

Any idiot can put up a website.

C’est moi, c’est moi,’tis I,' I told him. It seemed appropriately melodramatic, though I didn’t know if he’d catch the reference. I shouldn’t have worried. Unexpectedly, he laughed. “Trust you to quote Lancelot rather than Guinevere.

Happiness is German engineering, Italian cooking, and Belgian chocolate.

I was going to fight vampires, and my name wasn't Buffy--I was so screwed.

Civilization is vastly overrated.

The warmth of his body shouldn’t have felt good. He was angry and every muscle was tense. It was like being leaned on by a very heavy, warm brick. A sexy brick.

Mercy is not a proper Indian name."..........."Rash Coyote Who Runs With Wolf. We could shorten it to Dinner Woman.

Identity was partly heritage, partly upbringing, but mostly the choices you make in life. ~ Bran

It is hard to accept being different, hard to have people avoid looking at you, and still believe in yourself.

Mercy," he mumbled. "What the hell did you do to my French Roast?

Mercy," said my mother thoughtfully, "you never told me your werewolf neighbor was quite that hot.

When life doesn't meet your expectations, it was important to take it with grace.

I knew he would never leave me, never let me down-because the man had never abandoned anything in his long life. If I hadn’t taken the gold rope of our bond, I knew Adam would have sat on me and hog-tied me with it. I liked that. A lot.

Take a note: it usually works better if you wait until I do something stupid before getting mad at me.

His heart's occupied elsewhere," said Ben from behind me. "And even if it weren't he's not interested in your kind. But, I'm available and ready." "You don't have a heart," I told him. "Just a gaping hole where it should have been." "All the more reason for you to give me yours." I pounded my forehead against Warren 's back. "Tell me Ben's not flirting with me." "Hey," said Ben sounding hurt. "I was talking cannibalism, not romance.

Cheeses crusty, got all musty, got damp on the stone of a peach,” I agreed. He looked blank, so I repeated it with proper emphasis. “ ChEEZ-zes crusty. Got Al -musty. Got DAMp on the StoneofapeaCH.

My grandfather would have loved to have met you," he told her huskily. "He would have called you 'She Moves Trees Out of His Path.' " She looked lost, but his da laughed. He'd known the old man, too. "He called me 'He Who Must Run into Trees,'" Charles explained, and in a spirit of honesty, a need for his mate to know who he was, he continued, "or sometimes 'Running Eagle.' " " 'Running Eagle'?" Anna puzzled it over, frowning at him. "What's wrong with that?" "Too stupid to fly," murmured his father with a little smile.

Knowledge is a better weapon than a sword.

Stefan: "Indian with a dot, not a feather.

Mine, ... Mine is what she is.

Fear makes idiots out of us all, at some time or other.

I don't break; I bounce.

Bran was the only person I knew who could use words like "blackguard" and make them sound like swear words-but then he could have said "bunny rabbit" in that tone of voice and weaken my spine with the same shiver of fear.

She sees ghosts,” said Samuel, impatient with my whining. "I see dead people,” I deadpanned back. Oddly, it was Uncle Mike who laughed. I hadn’t thought he’d be a moviegoer.

A stupid ruler is much more of a problem than an insane one.

Do they always flirt with biblical quotes?" Asil asked Tad. In long-suffering tones, Tad said, "They can flirt with the periodic table or a restaurant menu. We've learned to live with it. Get a room you guys.

Dragons and legends...It would have been difficult for any man not to want to fight beside a dragon.

The only certainty life contains is death.

Bran was stripping her futon down to the bare mattress when she entered her apartment. It was sort of like watching the president mowing the White House lawn or taking out the trash.

Where does a werewolf sleep? Anywhere he wants to.

No-pocket jeans are only slightly less irritating than thong underwear.

Are you going to tell me what that was about?” Adam asked as we went back upstairs. “Sometime,” I told him. “When we're telling ghost stories around a campfire, and I want to scare you.

For Adam, screwed-up bonding thing or not, I’d wait forever. “Really?” he asked in a tone I’d never heard from him before. Softer. Vulnerable. Adam didn’t do vulnerable. “Really what?” I asked. “Despite the way our bond scares you, despite the way someone in the pack played you, you’d still have me?” He'd been listening to my thoughts. This time it didn't bother me. “Adam,” I told him, “I’d walk barefoot over hot coals for you.

He was obviously dead. But since he was a vampire that wasn't as hopeless a thing as it might have been.

You should be home sleeping. What is the use of having a man in the house, if he cannot take care of you for a while?” “Mmm,” I said. “I give up. What's the use of having a man in the house?

He stopped what he was doing and pulled out his magic phone. Okay, the phone wasn't magic, but it does things my computer struggles with.

He sighed. "I don't think an apology will do, Mercy. Because an apology implies that you wouldn't do it again. And, under the circumstances, you wouldn't do anything differently, would you? "No.

Someday, I'm going to meet some supernatural creature who tells me everything I should know up front and in a forthright manner - but I'm not going to hold my breath.

Time was such an odd thing. One moment you could talk to someone, then suddenly, they were gone.

Reluctantly, I pulled out my necklace and showed it to them. Samuel frowned. The little figure was stylized; I suppose he couldn't tell what it was at first. "A dog?" asked Zee, staring at my necklace. "A lamb," I said defensively, tucking it safely back under my shirt. "Because one of Christ's names is 'The Lamb of God.'" Samuel's shoulders shook slightly. "I can see it now, Mercy holding a roomful of vampire at bay with her glowing sheep." I gave his shoulder a hard push, aware of the heat climbing to my cheeks, but it didn't help. He sang in a soft taunting voice, "Mercy had a little lamb...

Adam wants to know what took you so long? "Tell him I had wild, passionate sex with a complete stranger.

A second floor window opened, and Kyle stuck his head and shoulders out so he could look down at us. “If you two are finished playing Cowboy and Indian out there, some of us would like to get their beauty sleep.” I looked at Warren. “You heard ‘um Kemo Sabe. Me go to my little wigwam and get ‘um shut-eye.” “How come you always get to play the Indian?” whined Warren, deadpan. “Cause she’s the Indian, white boy,” said Kyle.

You can't cage an eagle for long without destroying it.

What would a racist call werewolves? Wargs? She kind of liked that one, but suspected that racist bastards didn't read Tolkien.

So in the sweltering heat of a July night, I sang a Christmas carol to a room full of fae, who had been driven out of their homelands by Christians and their cold-iron swords.

Let's save tomorrow's troubles for tomorrow.

It's only fair to warn you that you sealed your fate tonight. When you knew you were in trouble, you came to me. That makes twice, Mercy, and twice is almost as good as a declaration. You are mine now.... Ben says you might run. If you do, I will find you and bring you back. Every time you run, Mercy. I won't force you, but. .. No more excuses, Mercy. You are mine, and I am keeping you.

If she know how strongly he felt, she'd have run out the door. He wasn't used to the possessive, or the savage joy she brought to his heart. It ate at his control, so he turned his attention to the music. He understood music.

Women are sneaky.

His grandfather had often told him that he tried too hard to move trees when a wiser man would walk around them.

Things change whether you want them to, or not--unless you are dead. Don't hold so hard to the past that you die with it.

Wolves eat coyotes," Gordon said[...] If he weren't an old man, I had some rude things I could have said to that. "Yes," observed Adam blandly. "I do." Yep. That was the one that came to mind. And he didn't even blush when he said it. Maybe Gordon would miss the double entendre. But he grinned cheerfully at Adam.

Mercy?” “Just a minute,” I told Adam. “I'm in the middle of a revelation.

If you could just see your face,” she told me. “You look like a cat in a bathtub.

Don’t lick the guests, darling. Bad manners.

Bran was always a deceptive bastard, gentle and mild right up until he ripped your throat out. He had many other fine qualities as well.

Survivors can't always choose their methods.

You forgot the ‘my precious,’” Anna said dryly. “If you want to act like a freaking nutcase, you have to do it right.

After I shut the door behind me, I heard Darryl say "of course eating him would work too.

Trying is always enough.

Some truths are truths, no matter who says them.

If it would benefit you, I would kill every wolf here. But there are things that you need to do -- and interfering with that is not protecting, not in my book. The best way for me to protect you is to encourage you to be able to protect yourself.

Adam swore harshly. "New werewolves are dangerous, woman. Especially when they are cold and hungry." He looked at Mac, and his voice changed completely, the heat and anger gone, "Mercy, come here." I didn't look down to see what he'd noticed in Mac's face. I took a step, but Mac was wrapped around my left leg. I stopped before I fell. "Uhm. I'm a little stuck for the moment.

I woke in the morning to the sound of Adam's stomach growling under my ear. "Sorry," he said. "Too many changes and not enough food." I patted his hard belly and kissed it. "Poor thing," I told it. "Doesn't Adam treat you right? No worries, I'll go feed you." My head bounced when Adam laughed.

I like that people can just look at you and know that you are taken, that you are mine.” He closed his eyes and laughed. “And yes, I know that sentiment is at the top of the Women’s Liberation Movement’s list of things not to say to a modern woman.

His voice was soft and sweet as molasses; but my mother once told me that you had to trust that the first thing out of a person's mouth was truth. After they have a chance to think about it, they'll change what they say to be more socially acceptable, something they think you'll be happier with, something that will get the results they want.

She gave Samuel a stern look. "Now, I don't know what's going on between you and my daughter and Adam Hauptman—” “Neither do we,” I muttered. Samuel grinned. “We have it pretty well worked out as far as the sex goes—Adam gets it—someday—and I don’t. But the rest is still up for negotiation.” “Samuel Cornick,” I sputtered in disbelief. “That is my mother.

Adam has always had . . . heroic tendencies.” I touched Adam’s arm. “He’s my hero.” There was another pause. . . “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Bran said. “Be careful, Adam, or you’ll turn her into a real girl.” Adam looked at me. “I like her just the way she is, Bran.” And he meant it, greasy overalls, broken fingernails, and all.

Do you have any idea how much I love you?" he asked. "Enough to accept my apologies?" I suggested in a small voice. "Heck no," he said, and pushed off from the wall, stalking forward. When he reached me, he put his hands up and touched the sides of my neck with the tips of his fingers--as if I were something fragile. "No apologies from you," he told me, his voice soft enough to melt my knees and most of my other parts.

We who are dominant tend to think of that aspect of being a werewolf as rank: who is obeyed, who is to obey. Dominant and submissive. But it is also who is to protect and who is to be protected. A submissive wolf is not incapable of protecting himself: he can fight, he can kill as readily as any other. But a submissive doesn't feel the need to fight -- not the way a dominant does. They are a treasure in a pack. A source of purpose and of balance. Why does a dominant exist? To protect those beneath him, but protecting a submissive is far more rewarding because a submissive will never wait until you are wounded or your back is turned to see if you are truly dominant to him. Submissive wolves can be trusted. And they unite the pack with the goal of keeping them safe and cared for.

Hey, Adam,” I said. I thought you’d want to know that Warren and Darryl made it out of the vampire den alive.” I sucked in my breath. “You didn’t actually agree to their meeting on Marsilia’s grounds?” He laughed. “No, it just sounded better than saying they made it out of Denny’s alive. It might not be romantic, but it’s open all night and set in the middle of a brightly lit parking lot with no dark places for skulking parties to ambush from.

One of my professors once told me that the last official act of the British monarchy was when Queen Victoria refused to sign a law that made same-sex acts illegal. It would have made me think more highly of her, except the reason she objected was because she didn’t believe women would do anything like that. Parliament rewrote the law so it was specific to men, and she signed it. A tribute to enlightenment, Queen Victoria was not. Neither, as I have observed before, are werewolf packs.

I can turn into a coyote," I said. "My mom tells me I must get it from my father." Calvin's jaw dropped, then his face froze. "Your mother was a white woman," he said urgently. "You can't turn into a coyote." "Can, too," I said indignantly. It was one thing for me to tell him he was lying--I knew I was right. It was an entirely different matter for him to tell me I was lying. "Can't." "Can." "Can't" "Can, too." "Mercy," Adam said with an exaggerated patience tinged with humor. He knew I was doing it on purpose. That was okay but he wasn't angry anymore. "Cannot," said Calvin. "Knock it off, both of you. Neither of you is five.

Thank you, Adam,” I told him. “Thank you for tearing Tim into small Tim bits. Thank you for forcing me to drink one last cup of fairy bug-juice so I could have use of both of my arms. Thank you for being there, for putting up with me.” By that point I wasn’t laughing anymore. “Thank you for keeping me from being another of Stefan’s sheep—I’ll take pack over that any day. Thank you for making the tough calls, for giving me time.” I stood up and walked to him, leaning against him and pressing my face against his shoulder. “Thank you for loving me.” His arms closed around me, pressing flesh painfully hard against bone. Love hurts like that sometimes.

Then he snarled at her. “You are not leaving me.” It was an order, and she didn’t have to follow anyone’s orders. That was part of being Omega instead of a regular werewolf – who might have had a snowball’s chance in hell of being a proper mate. “You need someone stronger,” Anna told him again. “So you wouldn’t have to hide when you’re hurt. So you could trust your mate to take care of herself and help, damn it, instead of having to protect me from whatever you are hiding.” She hated crying. Tears were weaknesses that could be exploited and they never solved a damned thing. Sobs gathered in her chest like a rushing tide and she needed to get away from him before she broke. Instead of fighting his grip, she tried to slide out of it. “I need to go,” she said to his chest. “I need–” His mouth closed over hers, hot and hungry, warming her mouth as his body warmed her body. “Me,” Charles said, his voice dark and gravelly as if it had traveled up from the bottom of the earth, his eyes a bright gold. “You need me.