Shadowlands Quotes

We read to know we're not alone.

I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time- waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God- it changes me.

Experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn fast.

We meet the people we’re supposed to when the time is just right.

It's hard for an educated woman to turn her head off. That's part of the joy of being a submissive. None of the decisions are yours. When you can't refuse anything and can't even move, those voices in your head go silent. All you can do, and all you are permitted to do, is feel.

Sometimes destiny lies just outside of our reach.

Gabi to Marcus "I can't believe out of one hundred thousand sperm, you were the fastest!

...in the end, all I want is to be with him. It's the only way my life feels complete.

That hurt querida, that really hurt

I'm sorry, Heather, but everything was not just fine before I got here. You know how I know that? Because you're dead. Okay? You are dead. Dead people don't have lockers, or best friends, or boyfriends. You know why? Because they're dead.-Suze Simon

Right on the edge of fear was where trust could grow.

Querida

God creates us free, free to be selfish, but He adds a mechanism that will penetrate our selfishness and wake us up to the presence of others in this world, and that mechanism is called suffering.

Sex is a team sport, sugar.

He looks at me, the light in his eyes fractures into millions of bits—a kaleidoscope of darkness that may never be fixed.

Christian Gray visited the Shadowlands and the real Doms laughed him out of the club. From Chat with Cherise Sinclair 08/17/12

Feelings are feelings. They don't have dumb or smart labels,

And try to remember what we discussed, Susannah. A mediator is someone who helps others resolve conflicts. Not someone who, er, kicks them in the face.

So you’ve made a friend. How sad for them.

Here I am going to say something which may come as a bit of a shock. God doesn't necessarily want us to be happy. He wants us to be lovable. Worthy of love. Able to be loved by Him. We don't start off being all that lovable, if we're honest. What makes people hard to love? Isn't it what is commonly called selfishness? Selfish people are hard to love because so little love comes out of them.

Have you gone crazy?" "Have you gone crazy, Master.

Be brave, little rabbit. Take a chance.

How is it that I'd nearly been smothered to death, and yet I could sit there and notice things like my stepbrother's abdominal muscles a few minutes later?

You dickweed! Are you always stupid, or is today a special occasion?

Some people can’t keep fighting. Some people want to escape. Some people are not ready—are not able—to find a way to deal with what’s in front of them. Sometimes there’s no one to help them. Sometimes they don’t know how to ask for help. Sometimes it feels like there’s no choice but to end it. No other way out. And sometimes it’s impossible to see past that.

Don't confuse what you want and what you need.

Whatever demon invented stiletto-heeled boots should roast in hell...

God, you’re uptight. Did the aliens maybe forget to remove your anal probe?

Fear separates--makes us feel alone--disconnected--while love--love does just the opposite--it unites. {shadowland}

Impertinent submissive,” Raoul snapped, and his dark brown eyes turned mean. “Nothing new for this one. You're doing a lousy job of bringing her to heel, Marcus.” “Bring me to heel? Like I'm a dog?” Without thinking, Gabi instinctively yanked away and snapped out, “Bite me.

They just kept grinning at me from over the stupid sign, Dopey because he's too dumb to know any better, Doc because – well, I guess because he might have been glad to see me. Doc's weird that way. Sleepy, the oldest, just stood there, looking … well, sleepy.

Don’t bother to argue. We’re both going to have nightmares. You will be in my bed and in my arms when that happens.

When something horrible happens, your brain doesn't process the memories right. It stores everything-- sounds, pain, smells, feelings-- all mixed up. It doesn't matter if you believed it or it made sense; it gets stored.

Self-sufficiency is the enemy of salvation. If you are self-sufficient, you have no need of God. If you have no need of God, you do not seek Him. If you do not seek Him, you will not find Him.

You want company, sugar?” Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she could only nod. “Good answer. You saved yourself a fight.

I'm after something far more esoteric than a virginal shag. Though, if you'd like, darlin', I'm certainly up for the task.

Awww, that's sweet. Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a well-made implement of pain.

You're very lovely, gatita." Her brows pulled together, and she gave him a skeptical stare. "Do not look at your master as if he's an idiot.

You spanked me,” she told him. “I did.” He lifted her shoulders high enough to push a wedge pillow under the pad. “And I enjoyed it very much. You have a very spankable ass, no?

the only thing men are fast at is sex.

What the heck kind of name was Sir?

Oh lord and master. High muckety-muck.

You mean you’re not God? Nooo, say it isn’t so!

You know how really big guys are always nicknamed Tiny?" She didn’t wait for any response, afraid she’d chicken out. "Guess that would make you Master Munchkin, huh?

[...] even in the cruelest human being there can exist a flower of good. Maybe just the tiniest blossom, in need of water and sunlight, but a flower just the same.

While we may judge things as good or bad, karma doesn't. It's a simple case of like gets like, the ultimate balancing act, nothing more, nothing less. And if you're deteremined to fix every situation you deem as bad, or difficult, or somehow unsavory, then you rob the person of their own chance to fix it, learn from it, or even grow from it. Some things, no matter how painful, happen for a reason. A reason you or I may not be able to grasp at first sight, not without knowing a person's entire life story—their cumulative past. And to just barge in and interfere, no matter how well-intentioned, would be akin to robbing them of their journey. Something that's better not done.

The most intense joy, lies not in the having, but in the desire, Delight that never fades, bliss that is eternal, Is only your, when what you most desire, is just out of reach...Anthony Hopkins, from the movie Shadowlands, where he plays C.S. Lewis

She rubbed her cheek on his chest like a sleepy cat. “I like when you hold me.” Dios, she was going to break his heart. “I like when I hold you too.

But while everything around us seems to be in a constant state of flux- people at their very core remained exactly the same. All of us still seeking the things we've sought all along—shelter, food, love, greater meaning—" He shakes his head. "A quest that's immune to evolution.

Am I your dom, little rabbit?” “Yes.” Her red-brown brows drew together. “What’s wrong?” “Not a thing.” He gave her a faint smile, and his gravelly voice deepened. “I thought I’d tell you we’re getting married next month.” ~Nolan and Beth~

You dumb-ass ape, get your hand off me. What—are you the first in your family to be born without a tail?

Toys? When a man—a dom—said toys, he didn’t mean stuffed animals or baseballs.

I am Nyktos, ruler of the Shadowlands, the Primal of Death.

To put it another way, pain is God's megaphone to rouse a deaf world. Why must it be pain? Why can't he rouse us more gently, with violins or laughter? Because the dream from which we must be wakened, is the dream that all is well.

Didn't I promise I'd always look after you and keep you from harm?

He smiled. A sub shouldn’t be terrified, but a little anxiety was good.

It's a girl thing, trying to change ourselves as if we can change our lives too.

The shadows of Ina-Karekh are the place where nightmares dwell, but not their source. Never forget: the shadowlands are not elsewhere. We create them. They are within.

If God wanted humans to eat vegetables, he wouldn’t have colored them green. Green things are moldy.

He kissed me gently. 'Lieutenant Malachi Sokol, reporting for duty, Captain.' 'What?' 'I've been assigned to your field unit,' he whispered as he nuzzled my neck. Oh, man. Heaven. Help. Me. 'I'm afraid I'm already being shockingly insubordinate.

I am as I am. The world is as it is. Whether I am content with that has very little to do with it.

I felt sorry for myself since my wimpy dom can’t catch a snail crossing the sidewalk.

Chocolate's better than sex any day.

My God, no wonder people like being tied up.

Rough Night, Kitten?

I’m a firm believer in equality at all times—” “At all times?” She glanced at the cuffs clipped to his leathers. “Why do I find that hard to believe?” And why the heck was she arguing with him. Mine, mine, mine. “At all times,” he repeated. “However, in the bedroom or in the club, I am a lot more equal than you.

Well hell. He’d gotten sucked right into caring for this little bundle of troubles.

By the way, you have a fine ass. Sir.

I won’t tell you how I managed to break in, since I don’t want the authorities figuring out, but let’s just say that if you’re going to make a gate, make sure it reaches all the way to the ground.

Although he assumed she’d naturally submit to him, he obviously believed she was still her own person. A strong person.

And since I am a man, I would appreciate it if you would cry for us both, gatita.

You little subs make me nervous. Being around you is too much like walking into a room filled with tiny kittens and trying not to step on one.

A good relationship is a two-way street, gatita. Submitting and serving is equaled by a master’s need to take control, to protect, to make someone happy.

Is that your face or did your neck just throw up?

Funishment - not truly discipline.

You’re so damn big,” she whispered. “Why, thank you cariño,” he said.

If you keep all those thoughts inside, your brain will explode.

People—especially men—don't always know what they want. You try, and if it doesn't work, then you may quit.” With a broken heart. As if she'd read her mind, Abuelita frowned and scolded, “Hearts mend, but lost chances are gone forever.

She couldn’t take her eyes from the dancing flame. No, this was so wrong. Candles should be used for meditation…for romance. Or on a birthday cake at least. So where was the cake? The present? The song? As he stepped closer to her—as the damned flame got way too close—she started singing. “Happy birthday to me. Happy birthday to me…” Marcus paused, looking at her in disbelief. See. I knew he didn’t have a sense of humor. “Happy birthday, dear Gabi”—she lifted her head and blew out the candle—“happy birthday to me.

We all make mistakes. And some of them are really bad... But that doesn't mean we're allowed to use those mistakes as excuses. In fact, doing that makes them even worse.

I can do anything if i want it enough.

Slut. I’m a dirty- The sound of a hand hitting flesh was simultaneous with the shocking sting on her bottom. “Ow!” “You don’t think those nasty thoughts about my sumisita, Kimberly.

You'll never get anything done if you walk around with an unchipped heart.

You have a piercing.” “So I do.” “Didn’t that hurt?” “A bit.

Dammit, why isn’t there a book with the answers in it?

Darlin’, I wasn’t just a Boy Scout, I was an Eagle Scout.

What we have here is a failure to communicate.

Who needs fireworks when I have you?

And he calls it playing? Like, whatever happened to chess? Or cards? Or tag?

You want to count, Gabrielle? One! She sucked in a breath, mad enough the words slid right out. You asshole, one!

I wanted the chance to give him something, to give him the best of me, as pathetic as it was, damaged and broken, warped at the edges, hardly worth having. I decided that if I had the chance, if he asked, if he needed, it was his.

She realised she was whimpering. Sir held her closer, his hard grip reassuring. This wasn't a dream; he really was here.

I'm not likely to forget someone slapping my butt with a big piece of wood.

Heck, that woman out there looked like she was getting more from one kiss than Jessica had ever gotten from the whole insert-dick-move-around shebang.

That’s an awful lot of littles, don’t you think?” “Perhaps.” He displayed his hand. “Big.” He set hers next to his, so small and delicate contrasted with his thick, blunt fingers. Why did holding her fragile hand raise every protective instinct he had?

Okay, you’re older. Not much, really. And considering you love staying in shape and I refuse to run, we’ll probably get all old and crippled at the same time. If not, then I’ll learn to use a cane, and I’ll get to beat on your ass for a change.

The human capacity for self-delusion is limitless

This was like being Alice in a very twisted Wonderland...

Nothing can rival the incredible rush the act of creation brings. Of crafting something you know is destined to be great for all time.

Any ham-handed idiot can make a woman scream. I prefer to assess…responsiveness.

You're allowed to look, sweetheart, he murmured, running a finger down her hot cheek. I enjoy having your eyes on me.

He absently stroked my hair, winding it around his fingers, smoothing it against my back. I relaxed into him, and he laid his cheek on top of my head. It felt good. Better than good. Normal. Safe. Clean and right and whole... and not at all what I expected when I decided to come to hell.

I do like seeing you in chains, darlin'.

You are such a sleazeball, Rhodes—walking, talking proof of why siblings shouldn’t marry.

Figures. The first time a guy tells me I’m beautiful, I’m in hell and he’s delirious.

Did you ever wonder what life would be like if you'd had enough oxygen at birth?

To have to perform a scene, a punishment scene like that, was extremely unpleasant. It bothered me to hurt you, Jessica,” he growled. “You will let me hold you, and offer me some comfort in return.

That’s very nice. You may continue doing that.

If you are with me long, I will begin to spell Master with two M’s.

If in this shadowland of life thou hast Found one true heart to love thee, hold it fast; Love it again, give all to keep it thine, For love like nothing in the world can last.

To do magic, to do great magic, he has to know himself as a piece of the universe. A piece of the universe? A little piece that has all the rest of it in it. Everything outside of him is also inside of him.

I mean, yeah, maybe our fate is sometimes fixed and unchangeable, but there are other times when its shaped purely by the actions we take...

Focus on what's next, not what came before.

Gabi glared. "If you want to add some variety to your sex life, why don't you just use your other hand?

The fun we’ll have tonight is called figging.

Pull up your big-girl panties, Gabi.

You know, there are very few people I could tell that to and have them laugh instead of calling the cops. Or mental health.

I dreamed of you, even before I knew you were real. In all my years of wishing, I wished for you. The moment I saw you, I felt it. My whole world shifted. My whole existence grew brighter.

Dios, she'd never come so hard in her life. How many people died this way? How would he ever explain to the ambulance crews that he'd chained his girlfriend out on the deck and killed her with too many orgasms?

God," she moaned. "I usually suggest Sir or Master, but I suppose God is adequately respectful.

Why they think everyone should be alike in making love when no one can even agree on what ice cream they like, I'll never know from Dark Citadel

A girl could get to hate Doms.

Logic is an excellent weapon when employed correctly.

You bloated dickhead, you really are proof that evolution can go in reverse.

Facing a wall when you write really aids your concentration.

She was so light; he could hold her all night without a problem.

For the most part, what we think of as 'I' is nothing more than a whole heap of conditioning.

Maybe I'll just stand here for the half hour and pretend to be a statue. “You were given an order, sub,” he said softly. Or not.

Marcus stepped behind the bar, saying, “Dan sent me over to assist you and learn how to tend the bar.” Doms could be pain-in-the-ass mother hens.

Lucy said, 'We're so afraid of being sent away, Aslan. And you have sent us back into our own world so often.' 'No fear of that,' said Aslan. 'Have you not guessed?' Their hearts leapt, and a wild hope rose within them. 'There was a real railway accident,' said Aslan softly. 'Your father and mother and all of you are- as you used to call it in the Shadowlands- dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.

When the time comes,' Lief said, determinedly drowning her out, 'I will follow Adin's example, and marry for love.' He glanced at her. 'if the woman I love will have me, of course.' 'She probably will,'said Jasmine. 'When the time comes.' She slipped her hand into his.

Where's your car? Miles asks, glancing at him as he slams his door shut and slings his backpack over his shoulder. "And whats up with your hand?" "I got rid of it," Damen says, gaze fixed on mine. Then glancing at Miles and seeing his expression he adds, "The car, not the hand." "Did you trade it in?" I ask, but only because Miles is listening. [...] He shakes his head and walks me to the gate, smiling as he says, "No, I just dropped off on the side of the road, key in the ignition, engine running." "Excuse me?!" Miles yelps. "You mean to tell me that you left your shiny, black, BMW M6 Coupe—by the side of the road?" Damen nods. But thats a hundred-thousand-dollar car!" Miles gasps as his face turns bright red. "A hundreds and ten." Damen laughs. "Don't forget, it was fully customized and loaded with options." Miles stares at him, eyes practically bugging out of his head, unable to comprehend how anyone could do such a thing—why anyone would do such a thing. "Um, okay, so let me get this straight—you just woke up and decided—Hey, what the hell? I think I'll just dump my ridiculously expensive luxury car by the side of the road—WHERE JUST ANYONE CAN TAKE IT?" Damen shrugs. "Pretty much." "Because in case you haven't noticed," Miles says, practically hyperventilating now. "Some of us are a little car deprived. Some of us were born with parents so cruel and unusual they're forced to rely on the kindness of friends for the rest of their lives!" "Sorry." Damen shrugs. "Guess I hadn't thought about that. Though if it makes you feel any better, it was all for a very good cause.

She could just imagine, all her friends and family mourning around her grave. The tombstone would read Kari Wagner, Died of Sheer Stupidity. It would be almost as bad to have her grave marker read Died of Terminal Bedroom Boredom.

I'll work with her." For now. Then he gave Z a steady look and drew his line in the sand. "You are the owner, sir, but they're my trainees. I would be most grateful if you could remember that." Don't do it again. Gray eyes level, Z tilted his head in acknowledgement and slid the trainee's paperwork down the bar top. With a grin, the bartender set a drink on the bar. "You know, Marcus, you say fuck you almost as politely as the boss." -Master Z, Marcus and Cullen

I know it's probably wrong to fantasize about giving a nun a karate chop in the neck, but I couldn't help it. She was making me mad.

The sound of his rough voice was…comforting, like there was safety wherever he was. Well, some safety…he certainly had an awful lot of sneaky tricks up his sleeve.

Wolves and those who see them are shot on sight.

We were in the middle of a scene, and this crazy woman comes roaring out of the crowd, screaming, grabs my whip, and damned if she didn’t punch me.” Rubbing his reddened chin, the man’s lips curved a little. “It’s almost funny, but still, she ruined our scene.

An older dom snorted. “Atherton uses the word escort loosely. The last time someone messed with a trainee, he threw the guy across the bar. Strolled over, waited for the idiot to stand up, punched his lights out, and dragged him by his jacket collar out of the place. Escorted him, my ass. Didn’t even wrinkle that fancy suit.” He took a sip of his beer and added, “Atherton is invariably polite, but nobody in their right mind fucks with his trainees.

She took a second look at him, at his fancy tailored suit. Dark gray with pinstripes. Oh please, like she’d really believe he was a dom at all? “Gabrielle Anderson. Are you sure you’re Master Marcus?” “Why would you think I’m not Master Marcus?” he asked. Well, good grief. She waved a hand at him and kept the duh from slipping out. Just in case he really was Master Marcus. Maybe he hadn’t changed yet or something. “The suit? Where are your leathers or latex or…biker jacket or vest? And black? Did you forget to wear black?” He stared for a second, as if she’d turned into a drooling idiot, and then simply roared. Deep, full laughter—amazing coming from someone who looked like he should have a stick up his ass.

New Englanders could be so brusque.

A master like Raoul looks for a woman whose need to serve and submit matches his need to protect and take command.

HARRINGTON: And God hears your prayer, doesn't he? We hear Joy's getting better. ... LEWIS: That's not why I pray, Harry. I pray because I can't help myself. I pray because I'm helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me, waking and sleeping. It doesn't change God, it changes me.

Okay, let me state right now that I am not a coward. I'm really not. But I'm not a fool, either. I think if you recognize that you are up against a force greater than your own, it is perfectly okay to run. It's not okay to leave others behind, though.

Look at me, sugar.” She lifted her eyes, and he wiped away the tear that spilled over. “I could tell you what I do and don't do, but you wouldn't believe a word I said. So let's get this over with.

You said you needed to see me again, too.' 'Did it help?' 'More than you'll ever know.' I tightened my arm around his waist, wanting nothing more from the moment than what it was. That simple moment, touching him, feeling him breathe, his hand stroking my hair—it was all I could have hoped for, all I could have wanted. I was filled up with it, this warm, buzzing feeling in my chest, and it was completely satisfying. I wondered if it might be what I needed after all.

You gazed into my eyes, what could I do but linger? I ran my hand through your hair, and a cootie bit my finger.

Give me her damn address, you sadistic bastard.

She frowned at him. “You’re bossy.” “Yes, I am,” he agreed, amiably. “Isn’t it a shame you happen to like that?

A long time ago, when we all lived in the forest and none of us lived anywhere else,

God, sit by the freak, why don't you." "Excuse me, do you have Tourette's?" "What?" "Tourette's Syndrome. It's a neurological disorder that causes people to say things they don't really mean. Do you have it?" "No." "Oh, so you were being purposely rude." "I wasn't calling YOU a freak." "I'm aware of that. That's why I'm only going to break ONE of your fingers after school, instead of all of them.

Master Nolan - "Being angry at a sub because a scene goes bad or you don’t get the response you want isn’t the mark of a good Dom. And insulting a woman for any reason is the mark of an asshole.

Ever, we are not defined by our things. It's not the clothes we wear, the cars that we drive, the art we acquire - it's not where we live - but how we live that defines us. It's our actions that are remembered long after we're gone.

Of course, I didn't know how I felt about my first kiss coming from one of the undead, but hey, beggars can't be choosers, and let me tell you something, Jesse was way cuter than any live guy I'd met lately.

But my attention’s elsewhere, drawn to that warm wonderful pull, the familiar loving essence that only belongs to one person—only belongs to him— Watching as Damen cuts through the water, board tucked under his arm, body so sculpted, so bronzed, Rembrandt would weep. Water sluicing behind him like a hot knife through butter, cleanly, fluidly, as though parting the sea. My lips part, desperate to speak, to call out his name and bring him back to me. But just as I’m about to, my eyes meet his and I see what he sees: me—hair tangled and wet—clothes twisted and clinging—frolicking in the ocean on a hot sunny day with Jude’s tanned strong arms still wrapped around me. I release myself from Jude’s grip, but it’s too late. Damen’s already seen me. Already moved on. Leaving me hollow, breathless, as I watch him retreat. No tulips, no telepathic message, just a sad, empty void left behind in his place.

Patient isn’t exactly a word in my vocabulary

There’s always a choice,” she replied. “But that doesn’t mean you get to determine which options you have.

So I choose to believe that we are not given more because we have to find the rest inside ourselves.

This beats for you. It has for some time. And it always will.

Work fast and don’t die,” Ana summed up. “Generally good advice.

When in doubt, I always say, wear black. You can never go wrong with black.

He didn't require some eighteen-year-old to make his cock hard. He wanted a woman, one with lines in her face that said she'd done some living and had learned to cry. And to laugh.

As a submissive needed the security of a dominant’s arms, the dominant needed to provide it.

Have you ever noticed how hard it is to find a shadow in the night? I guess that’s why so many people are so obsessed with the idea of bringing things to the light…to the clear, so to speak.

Eventually the girl would discover that sadists tended to be politer than regular Doms—at least, when not in a scene. After all, if a sadist was nasty, then how would he get anyone to play with him?

...Were you in the military?" "Are you kidding me? I was in high school." "High school," he said quietly. "You’re American. And a civilian?" "Uh, yes. An American civilian." "Lovely. A straight answer. Keep it up. Did somebody train you?" "No, nobody trained me. Unless you count the Rhode Island child welfare and juvenile justice systems. Why?" Malachi held up his hand and ticked off the reasons with his fingers. "You stole a Guard's weapon. If I'm not mistaken, it belonged to a Gate Guard. Which means you managed to do it on your way into the city. You escaped Amid even after he had you in hand. You slashed his leg in just the right place, preventing him from chasing you. Under extreme duress, injured and cornered, you threw a knife and hit a target-" "It's not like I hit something vital.

I’ve watched you shoulder your responsibilities, as I’ve felt you grow stronger with every fight, as I’ve seen how all these things hurt you and yet somehow cannot defeat you, I’ve only fallen deeper.

Master Nolan - “When a Dom takes control, leaving no choices for the sub, he has to see to all her needs, not just sexual, but emotional and physical also. If your Dom doesn't do that, then you find a new Dom.

And in the meantime, I have to save the world and be home by ten.

I wasn't about to admit to him that I'd never had a boyfriend. You just don't go around saying things like that to totally hot guys, even if they're dead.

Some people - and a high percentage of submissives - wanted clear-cut rules. Preferred their duties laid out, like schedules and lists.

Learn to stand up. Learn to fall down. Life's lessons didn't stop; they continued to the day of death.

Madre de Dios, the way he looks at you, like he's just waiting to get you into bed.

He'd seen when she began to panic, but he hadn't offered comfort like other Doms or changed his plans. He'd just waited her out. She could hate him a little for that.

She was a strong woman whose deepest responses apparently came when she was most vulnerable.

Nolan nodded gravely. “Men. Good to meet you.” As Beth walked through the door, she heard Grant whisper in wonder, “He called us men.

He thought I was strong, but he was willing to lay down his life to protect me. He thought I was beautiful, but he treated me as a precious gift instead of something to take for his own pleasure. He thought I was worth something, and he was worth everything to me. This man had endured lifetimes of suffering, but he could still love, and give, and dream of his future. He was a leader who would sacrifice himself for the weak, who used all his gifts — his intelligence, his cunning, his strength — to protect others. It was a privilege to love him, even to have a shot at giving him the things he needed.

The face was no longer bone, but animal - the face of a white wolf. "I forbid you nothing. Nothing," uttered the awful face. "You may go anywhere - you may open any door. But, little bird, remember that you must be prepared to accept whatever you find." The long jaws spread in a smile filled with teeth.

I’ve always done what felt right. I do what I can to protect the people I love, and even though I don’t like you very much right now, I love the shit out of you. If anything happened to you, it might take me out for good.

Black met black on the distant horizon, the stars alone distinguishing sky from lake. On the sand below, Silver Beach glittered at the water's edge while on the north side of the river the lighthouse's beacon signaled safe harbor.

There really was no advantage, that I could see, in having brothers: they chewed with their mouths open, and ate every single Poppin' Fresh roll before I'd even had one.

If you want to add some variety to your sex life, why don't you just use your other hand?" ~ Gabi

Cory is one period short of a write-off.

So there I was, sitting on the plane in a black leather motorcycle jacket, seeing these palm trees through the window as we landed. And I thought, Great. Black leather and palm trees. Already I'm fitting in, just like I knew I would... ...Not.

Sister Ernestine said something very nasty about how maybe Miss Simon didn’t realize how unpleasant detention at the Mission Academy could be. I assured Sister Ernestine that if she was threatening corporal punishment, I would tell my mother, who was a local news anchor-woman and would be over here with a TV camera so fast, nobody would have time to say so much as a single Hail Mary. Sister Ernestine was pretty quiet after that.

My intention, of course, had been to wake up early and call Father Dominic to warn him about Heather. But intentions are only as good as the people who hold them, and I guess I must be worthless because I didn't wake up until my mother shook me awake, and by then it was 7:30, and my ride was leaving without me.

He looked up at the stars as the storm closed in and saw them extinguished, one-by-one, until just two remained. They glimmered and shone through gaps in the clouds like two great eyes in the darkness, burning on a demon’s face that chased him across the sea.

In faded leathers and boots, he sure wasn't a clotheshorse like Antonio, and he was sure a lot bigger. The brown leather pants clung to long legs, and his vest opened over a thickly muscled chest. His neck was corded, his arms solid. A gold band circled one darkly tanned biceps. His face… She frowned. All rough lines and craggy bones, he looked like a hard-edged Boromir from Lord of the Rings. His mouth was set in a firm line. And didn't that just figure she'd end up with Boromir? At least Aragorn had a sense of humor.

The wizard stirs, opens his eyes, and looks at the reluctant boy. “Oh, you’ll get your heart broken,” he says. “Is that what you’re waiting to hear? It’ll be broken, all right. But you'll never get anything done if you walk around with an unchipped heart. That’s the way of it, boy.

Sometime, the only way you can make someone listen is with your fist. This is not a technique espoused, I know by the diagnostic manuals on most therapists' shelves. Then again nobody ever said I was a therapist.

When I get out of this hospital, you and I are going to sit down and have a very long chat, Susannah, about proper mediation techniques. I don't know about this habit of yours of just walking up and punching the poor souls in the face.

I'll tell you what kind of girl I'm not," I said crankily. "I am not the kind of girl who's looking to share her room with a member of the opposite sex. Understand me? So either you move out, or I force you out. It's entirely up to you. I'll give you some time to think about it. But when I get back here, Jesse, I want you gone.

Does it really matter if I choose the bus over a BMW, and generic over Gucci? Because the car, the wardrobe, the zip code-those are just nouns, things that are fun to have around, sure, but in the end, they have nothing to do with the real me. Nothing to do with who I really am.

She looked at me as if she saw something else inside of me—something wonderful, something worth knowing—and she was the only person who could make it come out. She taught me things. She gave me things. Amazing things. A vision of myself, different from what I had been. Better, but still me, you know?

A faint rattling pulled me from sleep, which was a relief because I’d been caught in yet another nightmare. After what Rick, my now-former foster father, had done to me, one would think he’d be the one haunting my dreams. And he had something to do with it—he’d revived me the night I tried to kill myself. In the moments before he had, I was certain I’d been standing at the gates of hell, about to be sucked in. Unfortunately, when Rick revived me, I’d brought a piece of hell back with me. That was what I dreamed about. Every night. A dark, walled city. Wandering, lost, trapped. A voice whispering to me, You’re perfect. Come back. Stay.

Cabel felt the familiar nostalgic excitement of the endless possibilities encapsulated in a summers' night at Silver Beach. He smiled at himself as a boy and, more ruefully, at the man who now stood on the worn planks of the boardwalk. This night held no possibilities for him, though it was pleasant to remember a time when it did.

There were fat cats and skinny cats. The long-tailed and the bobbed. The daring young leapers, and the old windowsill sleepers. Balls of waddling fluff, smooth-coated prowlers, and hairless ones that looked fragile and wise. The tiger-striped, the ring-tailed, and the ones with matching coloured socks and mittens. There were tabbies and calicos. Manx and Persians. Siamese and Bombay. Ragdolls and Birmans. Maine Coons and Russian Blues. There were Snowshoes and Somalis, Tonkinese and Turkish, and many, many more. Brown and beige and orange and grey and black and white and silver cats, each with gleaming eyes of emerald, or sapphire, or amber. A rainbow of precious stones.

That reminds me—I want you to start practicing the dances you learned. Show me one before bed tonight.” He nuzzled her hair and murmured, “If it is adequate, I will take you and please us both. If not, I’ll beat on you first for a while and then take you anyway.” She gave a sigh of utter content and leaned back on his chest. “Yes, Master.

Inspiration can be a wonderful thing, but it can also be quite fickle ... If you want to be able to call on inspiration reliably then you need to work on it with regularity. Someone once said that if you only go out with a bucket to collect water when it's raining, sometimes you'll get water. But if you go out with your bucket every day, even when it's not raining, sometimes you'll catch unexpected rain. And also, a strange thing may happen: that the very act of going out with your bucket may actually provoke such rain.

Malachi sighed as he gazed at me. Even from that distance, the heat of his expression blew several circuits in my mind. “Because of the way she looked at me. She should have looked at me with fear. I did some pretty scary things. Most people would agree I am a scary person.” I stared at him, amazed as he echoed my own words so flawlessly. “But that’s not how she looked at me. She looked at me as if she saw something else inside me—something wonderful, something worth knowing—and she was the only person who could make it come out. She taught me things. She gave me things. Amazing things. A vision of myself—different from what I had been, better, but still me. I don’t think she really recognized how she was bringing me to life. It came so naturally to her.” “I don’t know if I did the same for her,” he said quietly. “Since we’re here right now, my guess would be that I didn’t. But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t change how I feel. I love her, and I would do anything for her.