Best 525 quotes of Karen Marie Moning on MyQuotes

It was a land of shadows and ice. Of gray. And grayer. And black. -The Unseelie prison of Aedan

I've spent enough time behind a bar that I've formed a few opinions about what people wear and what it says about them. Guys who wear black from head to toe fall into two categories: they want to be trouble, or they are trouble.

I've tried to move [the sidhe-seers] during times of peace and quiet and had the luck of a broken mirror nailed beneath an upside-down horseshoe with a ladder nearby that a black cat just walked under.

I wake up wating you. I fall asleep wanting you. I watch a magnificent sunrise and can think only of sharing it with you. I glimpse a piece of amver and see your eyes. Jillian, I've caught a disease, and the fever abates only when I'm near you.

I want purple trews, lass," Drustan called over the door. "No," she said irritably. "And a purple shirt.

I want you to go to the Ancient Languages Department at Trinity College tomorrow morning, Ms.Lane.

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

I was about to look away when he reached across the seat, touched my jaw with his long, strong, beautiful fingers, and caressed my face. Being touched by Jericho Barrons with kindness makes you feel like you must be the most special person in the world. It’s like walking up to the biggest, most savage lion in the jungle, lying down, placing your head it its mouth and, rather than taking your life, it licks you and purrs.

I was a twenty-two-year-old single white female alone in a strange country where my sister had been killed.

I was in Cancun, Mexico, sitting in a disappearing-edge swimming pool, on a bar stool that was actually under the water, watching palm trees sway in a sultry breeze against the unmistakable aqua splendor of the Caribbean Sea; drinking coconut, lime, and tequila from a scooped-out pineapple, with salt spray of breaking surf and sun kissing my skin. Translation: I'd died and gone to heaven.

I wasn‘t—" I began. I didn‘t—" He began. How charming," V‘lane cut us off. His voice arrived before he did. "The very portrait of human domestic bliss. She‘s on the floor, you‘re towering over her. Did he strike you, MacKayla? Say the word and I‘ll kill him.

I wasn't prepared for death. Nobody is. You lose someone you love more than you love yourself, and you get a crash course in mortality. You lie awake night after night, wondering if you really believe in heaven and hell and finding all kinds of reasons to cling to faith, because you can't bear to believe they aren't out there somewhere, a few whispered words of a prayer away.

I was stunned to see that he looked stunned himself, which was an exorbitant display of emotion for Barrons.

I wondered what one wore to visit a vampire. The chic red sweater set didn't go so well with my darker hair, and I was afraid it might be construed as a flirtatious invitation to color me bloodier.

Just one time before I turn into the villain of this piece, just one time before I become the fourth and final Unseelie prince, I want to be her Highlander. And her hero.

Just saying, things ain't always bad just 'cause you don't understand 'em or ain't like 'em. That's like thinking anybody who's smarter or faster is dangerous just 'cause they got more brains or quicker feet. Ain't fair. Peeps can't help how they're born.

Keep hoping to see the light in her eyes. Even knowing it'll mean she's saying good-bye.

Keeping vigil over her are two monsters of very different breeds but monster just the same. Death on her left. Devil on her right.

Kid, you might just annoy me into killing you.

Last night you said you wanted to know what to expect so you could better select your attire. I told you we were going to visit a vampire in a Goth-den tonight. Why, then, Ms. Lane, do you look like a perky rainbow?

Let's get something straight, MacKeltar. I am not going home with you. I am not going to bed with you, and I am not wasting one more moment arguing with you." "I promise not to mock you when you change your mind, lass.

Lies are horny little buggers, they breed like rabbits and bound around just as insanely and then you have to try to keep track of them.

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

Life is not black and white. The closes we ever get to either of those colors is wearing them.

Life is too hard, too much to handle. Nobody told me there’d be days like these. How could nobody tell me there’d be days like these? How could they let me grow up like that—happy and pink and stupid?

Life's a choice: you can live in black and white, or you can live in colour. I'll take every shade of the rainbow and the gazillion in between!

Life's not linear at all. It happens in lighting flashes. So fast you don't see those lay-you-out cold moments coming at you until you're Wile E. Coyote, steamrolled flat as a pancake by the Road Runner, victim of your own elaborate schemes.

Like a horse, honey, somebody's gonna break you.' 'Never. Going. To. Happen.

Like is an emotion. Emotions”—he raised a hand, made a fist, clenched it tightly—“are like holding water. You open your hand, there’s nothing there. Better to be a weapon than a woman.

Liminal sucks. You can't grasp it with your hands and shape it. You can't make midnight come faster, or grow up sooner, or avoid the in-betweens. You can only hang in there, and get through them.

Lose the pessimism, Ms. Lane. It's a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Love knows no right or wrong. Love is. Only is.

Lust is a thing of the blood. Doesn't need head or heart.

Mac." He said my name and laughed. "What a name for something like you. Mac.

Mac: "It's not the sidhe-seers." He stopped and went very still. JZB: "Who is it?" Mac: "The MacKeltars." He was silent a long moment. Then he began to laugh, softly. JZB: "Well played, Ms. Lane." Mac: "I had a good teacher." JZB: "The best. Hop on one foot, Ms. Lane." Mac and Barrons

Mom raised us to believe that every lie puts something out there in the world that's inevitably going to come back and bite you in the petunia.

My breathing was shallow and my hands were fists. 'Oh, yes, I'm going to have to kill you Barrons.' I said coolly, Partly because, for the most miniscule sliver of an instant, while looking at those handcuffs, I'd imagined myself climbing back into bed and pretending I wasn't cured yet.

My city. I pondered that phrase, wondered why Barrons felt that way. He never said “our world.” He always said “your world.” But he called Dublin his city. Merely because he'd been in it so long? Or had Barrons, like me, been beguiled by her tawdry grace, fallen for her charm and colorful dualities? I looked around “my” bookstore. That was what I called it. Did we call the things of our heart our own, whether they were or not?

My heart has jet lag.

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

My world we humans we’re just pawns on an immortal chessboard.

Never underestimate a well-dressed bimbo.

Nightfall. “What a strange word. ‘Night’ I get. But ‘fall’ is a gentle word. Autumn leaves fall, swirling with languid grace To carpet the earth with their dying blaze. Tears fall, like liquid diamonds Shimmering softly, before they melt away. Night doesn’t fall here. It comes slamming down.

Nobody home but She for Whom I Am the World. Can't go on like this, can't keep doing it.- Jericho Barrons

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.

Nobody looks good in their darkest hours. But it's those hours that make us what we are.

No matter how people try to dispute it, perception is reality. Its what you choose to believe that makes you the person you are.

No way. I'm not going in there. I draw the line at grave-robbing, Barrons. It's not your pen.

Now you know how I justify my addictions—if I can pay less for it than I would at Wal-Mart, I get to have it.

Nuns? They'd take one look at Barrons and decide the devil himself had come knockng. He not only looked dangerous, he emanated something that made even me feel like crossing myself sometimes, and I'm not religious.