Best 54 quotes of Angela B. Chrysler on MyQuotes

And Death it calls as the stone crow breaks. Streaks of blood malform its face. Death becomes its withered eyes and the shadows whisper, “Lies.” Excerpt from "Lies

And the silence, it cuts me. The silence, it gores me, Spilling my blood as the rain falls on me. Excerpt from "Silence

A person is not defined by their choices when the world is right, but by their choices when the world goes wrong. ... I think this is what Richard taught me. Shaun taught me to fight. Piss-ant taught me standards. Joe taught me endurance. Scott taught me to persevere and keep a cool head. Richard taught me to own my choices, good or bad.

As a child, all I saw were the monsters

Between that weekend and my father, I would never willingly accept another gift from anyone ever again. Gifts were a unique branch of manipulation used to provoke guilt. I hate receiving gifts. A gift is owed debt and I had a back log.

Books. More books than I had ever seen in my life. I gasped and crawled to my knees. I couldn’t breathe. Books galore. Music books, philosophy books. Math books. Geometry. Opera scores, logic. I sobbed and cradled the books. I hugged them to my naked chest and I cried. I smelled them and touched their spines. I remember how violently my fingers shook. I buried my nose in their pages and wept. Never had I ever held so many books in my life. And they were mine. All my very own. The orgasm still riddled my body. It had barely begun to fade. One orgasm ended, but the euphoria was just beginning.

Dancing had sculpted my body into an 80-pound solid mass of muscle, and the endorphins, dopamine, and serotonin fueled my permanent state of genuine happiness. Truth is, I was so relieved to be away from Scott that I couldn’t help but smile. It became my habit, my MO, I simply fell in love with smiling and laughter, and once I had reason enough to be happy, I couldn’t stop.

Don’t open the door,” Angel said. “Not for anyone.

ear. In most people, it provokes a response to run. ... I will make you cum and then I will run. That is what I was trained to do. My brain is programmed this way. My body is conditioned this way. Fear is my trigger. This is what I am. Fear. This is what I have become. This is my defense. You asked for my story. I will tell you exactly how I came to be like this.

Electricity is loud. Did you know? When we had power outages, the peace from the forest would seep in and blanket the house in perfect, beautiful silence.

Endurance teaches us one thing, if nothing else: to savor the calm after a storm. To savor the lives of those who survived.

Every word I speak is with the intent to relax you, to woo you, to draw you in, to make you love me, so I can weaken you, kill you, and run. That is what I am.

Hjuki and Bil Hjuki and Bil chased the moon, With waters from Byrgir’s well, Upon their shoulders they did share, Simul the pole and Saegr. ‘Mani,’ they cried and chased the sky, ‘From Byrgir whence we came, To water the earth and water your drink, And water the seas with rain’. Hati looked back and Skol ahead, But Mani gave no reply, For Hjuki he took, and bent his crook, And Bil was taken thereafter. Hjuki and Bil still chase the moon, From Byrgir whence they came, To water the earth and water the drink, And water the seas with rain.

I am aware of my alternate worlds,” I said. “I am aware that I may have bits of my personality organized into neat little packages called Ian, Angel, and Erik. And the psycho addiction I have to my cats...

I clicked on the message and slipped back into Ireland where I lay smiling in Raven’s arms. Together we watched the fire from the piles of blankets, clothes, and pillows scattered about on the cottage floor. I felt him kiss the top of head and I tightened my hold on him. “You know none of this is real, right?” he whispered. “It’s just a fantasy.” I buried my face in his chest and felt him breathe beneath me. “I know that,” I said. “But if I can’t have you, then I’ll settle for Ireland. Besides I’ve had a bad day today and I need this. I want to cry.” ... “But you...” I looked into his eyes. “You walked in and sat down beside me and it feels so right. I can't live without you. I love what we have, where we are... And if ever there is a chance for more, I would take it in a moment’s breath. I love this. Whatever it is, I love it. I need it so much in my life. I need you. I need exactly what we are like this. ... “I would want you to teach me. I would want you to teach me how to be intimate and how to let you in. I would show you all my cards, everything that I am and I would say please teach me to be gentle and sensual and romantic. Please teach me how to accept love because I don’t know how.” ... You meant the world to me right up to the end, even when you found a way to wake me from the lies. And for that, you will always be my dearest friend, my sweetest love, regardless of whether or not you were real.

I devoured books, drank words, studied everything I could get my hands onto. I bounced between music, logic, theology, history, literature, and art.

I did want to release this poison inside of me. Something longed to put it out there. I ached to be heard. I had tried so many times before.

I don’t remember what we talked about. I remember blushing and smiling a lot. We were there only an hour, and he made me feel more loved than I had ever known in my entire life. ... I signed off, smiling like a hyena on morphine. I couldn’t stop smiling. He had me. Already I was willing to give him anything all because he would accept me. I should be so lucky. I was only worth a dollar, after all.

If ever I was meant to love, my heart would beat for you,” Need not the Raven say to Crow beneath the winter’s howl. Excerpt from "The Raven and The Crow

If I were alone right now I would descend into the bowels of my mind and, this time, I wasn’t certain I could come back. There was less and less reason for me to.

...I had dragons sleeping within,” I said. “Dragons I didn’t know were there. And nothing awakens a sleeping dragon more like happiness and all things good.

I had learned to love smiling. I smiled, made eye contact. I was sincere. I still am. I had no qualms looking someone in the eye, smiling, and saying, “Hi. I like you.” It was my way of branding them “friend.” It’s something I practice to this day. If I love someone, I waste no time in telling them. Life is too short.

I hated checking my voicemail. I associate it with matters of importance and nothing ever was. Such a pain. I also hated guests, change, interruptions, and the feeling I got when someone came to my door. Anxiety, terror, then the arousal. I wanted him to leave and afterward I would indulge in a bit of fantasy.

I have a fear of relationships,” I began. “When I love, I love easy, deep, hard, strong, and long. But I can not marry. I can not live with anyone. I can not accept gifts from anyone or let anyone close enough for intimacy.

I knew where I was. It had been too long. I blinked back the image and tried to clear my head. I had to remember which world I was in.

I learned my most priceless lesson of all from that place. I learned how to teach myself. ... Hand me a book and I could do anything.

I learned to take very little. I learned to want nothing more. I learned something else during those nights. When all the world slept, a new silence settled into the forest. With candle in hand and dressed in gowns of gossamer, I would slip out into the night and dance to the sound of silence. Barefoot, I would spin then lay in the cool grass in a strip of moonlight. I would lie there all night and gaze up at the stars, so silent, so clear there in the wood, and so, so far away. I lived between worlds. The war, my reality, my hell and this world in the forest of fantasy. And I’m stuck. I can’t go back. I forever toggle between two worlds and one is ever so much more real to me than yours.At night, beneath the moon, I didn’t need my worlds to escape. I only needed to open my eyes and see the world as it was. Quiet and calm and at peace, just as I still see it. I escaped through my music and wrote poetry to ease the pain…and letters. I poured so much of my heart into the letters I wrote to Erik, who I could see so easily on the other side. I still have them. Every letter I ever wrote him. During those times, when the world was dark, Erik became more real to me than anything else. He was quiet. He listened. He held me in the silence. He played his violin for me. And he loved me. When I cried, I closed my eyes and felt him envelope me. Only Erik and the cats ever came. No matter how long and loud I cried, my parents, no one ever came. I was fourteen. I was alone and all I wanted was for someone to love me.

I’ll give you until dawn. Whatever you ask of me, I’ll answer. Whatever you wish, I’ll consent.

I love easy, judge no one, laugh often, and smile always. I listen, I love, I joke, I support, I comfort. I keep my tears in check, my emotions in check, and my heart is forever open. I am not jealous, I give you freedom, speak my mind. I do not lie, and will never seek to change you or hold you down. And I hold all the passion of Ireland in my heart. To boot, I took the time to learn what a man wants and needs…in and out of bed. I don’t cook. And I can not be had. If you’re lucky, I’ll love you. Don’t ever love me back. I’m only worth a dollar.”... “I didn’t choose loneliness. I simple chose to accept it! To stop fighting it. Once I did that, my war ended. What I chose was to no longer bring anyone down with me. I am a black widow. I am the worst kind. I am the widow who destroys lives, kills hearts, and shatters dreams and walks away, leaving the man a hollowed shell and a life that resembles mine. And I do this without wanting or meaning to. I do it without knowing I’ve done it at all! “But I, unlike them, am broken. I’m fucked up so much that I can live quite comfortably with my lot. While others—normal people, unbroken people—can’t. No one is scarred enough to live with me. Not Isaiah. Not even Raven. So, no, William. I am too broken to be loved.” ... “I found the tunnel’s end and the light that shines from the other side of sanity. Who others have done what I have done and have emerged unscarred, unscathed, and as kind as I? I am still smiling a warm and sincere smile. While others emerge cold and cruel and vile.” “I have simply come to terms with what I am and I know if I were to change this about me, I could not live as I do now, happy and content and alone. If I try to fix this mess I have become, I will not survive it. And will do more damage than good. No. There are no others like me. I am very much alone, as I will ever be.” ... “My needs are met,” I assured him and smiled. “I am smiling with my head held high. I am smiling with my face to the sky. And although I am dying inside, I am crying with my head raised high. I only wish to love greater than I have hurt. And I will spend the rest of my days laughing and smiling to compensate for all the crying I have done.

I’m going to kill you! I’m going to fucking kill you!”You can hear that only so many times before you believe it. During those times, I slipped into my worlds. The more I read, the more worlds came to me. I added a subterranean lake that was illogically bathed in moonlight to my list. Those worlds—that lake, the room with the onyx cats, and Ireland—they all became very real to me. Much more real than the life I lived where a monster threatened to kill me on the other side of the door.

In death we vanquished enemies, In death, we slew our foes. Blood soaked rage engulfed our blades, When blood lust took its hold. – In death, a darkness troubled one, In death, concealed, undone. Deep in darkness dragons wait, When blood would set the sun. – In death, we glorified his name. In death, we saw too late, When drink, to him, we raised in praise, The dragon sealed his fate. – In death, we lived. In death, we fought. In death, we grew to hate. In death, the blackened wraith released, The blinded shade beneath. – In death, his darkened eyes grew dim. In death, his mind was lost within. With blackened eyes, he slew his kin, In death, we lost to him. – In death, I took up sword and slew. In death, the dragon’s wrath ensued. We had no choice. The dragon fumed. In death, he was consumed. – In death, our brother’s blood deplored, In death, our brother, did I gore, When I rose up and killed one more. His blood ensconced my sword. – From death, his mutterings are weak. From death, his voice, to me, it speaks. Entombed within my brother’s keep, Revived in death, he sleeps.

In trying to determine where that breaking point was, they actually toughened me up for anything they could dish out and I learned to loosen up and take it. I learned to ease up and laugh. ... They taught me to truly throw my head back, laugh, and enjoy life.

I remember dying a slow, painful death, the kind that leaves you hating the world. I was like a worm. I wove myself a cocoon of dragon scales and there I stayed. ... I shunned emotion, hated all, and embraced logic. I was cold and callous. I had given up. While the trees withered and died, so did I. I turned my heart to stone that autumn.

I remembered. I had thrown it away all those years ago when I closed the lid of my piano and walked away. Music had been the largest line that tethered me to my pain and the first of the lines I killed to ease the hurt.

I slid back into my mind and slid once more to my worlds. The wind and the green of Ireland flooded back to me and the clouds moved in from the sea. I threw my head back to the skies and smiled. I could hear the stream nearby and wasted no time seeking it out. She called to me and I listened. I found the stream and I followed through the wood. How I missed my forest, my cottage, my realm. How I wished for nothing else, but to stay there until I died.

I slipped in and out of worlds that weren’t there. I wrote letters to fictitious characters. I was passing into catatonic states more times than not. It required a concerted amount of effort to keep myself here in this world. I was a runaway. I tried to slit my wrists. I was clinical, and I knew how to hide my condition.

I smiled to hide the hell I lived. I smiled to hide the darkness. On the surface, I smiled and grinned and laughed. I had mastered my emotions. What emotions I feel, I allow. No one suspected my wars.

I stood in my room. I shifted my feet on the white marble. Sunlight poured into the room like a golden waterfall. I looked behind me. The two cat statues of black onyx flanked the door. The bed was made up with a silk sheet. The water fall shower fell from the ceiling into the pool. It all was still here. The white gauze curtain swayed in the window and I grinned. I could not help but grin. I entered the balcony and looked down at the river that fell into the ravine. As always, I could jump and I would land in the pool below. I could smell the earth and the green. I could feel the wind and the spray of mist carried on the breeze like never before. It was real. I could touch it.And I knew, beyond the trees was my cottage and stream.

It felt good being independent and I loved it. Space. That was something familiar to me. That was something I could understand. Before my first kiss, I prized my solitude and had learned to associate safety and security in isolation.

I wear my soul in my eyes. Everything in my life primed me for the next event good or bad. Every event left me in the mental state I needed to be in to enter and maintain the next stage. If something had altered at any point along the way, then maybe I stood a chance. But it didn’t. One train wreck prepared me for the next train wreck, which only prepared me for the next train wreck until I had inevitably become what I am before you.

My father had started counting every penny he put into me. Every dime. Every dollar. He couldn’t give me a gift or hand me food without telling me how much I took from him. How selfish I was. How much my existence cost him. I had decided that I was worth exactly a dollar and if my father had to choose between the dollar and me, he would choose the dollar. TV was far more valuable.

My mother was beautiful, but insecure, and she boosted her lack of confidence with boasting and bragging. Every story was embellished. Every truth, exaggerated. The rule with my mother is simple. Believe nothing.

My music had been my solace and I lived without it for ten years.

My smile forever glows in my eyes and I know it. Too many men have told me this. I’m lethal.

Oh, how I longed to be heard just once. Perhaps that was why I always spoke my mind. I was tired of not being heard.

Online predators have mastered the art of sitting back and scanning a forum for a “target.” They look for females who brag and boast: first sign that the target is insecure. Then they move in and feel her out. They ask about her: what she likes, what she hates. Insecure people often and easily talk about themselves when barely coaxed. Within five minutes, a predator can determine if the target is close to her father or not. You absolutely want a female who has daddy issues because if the “pinch and grab” is to work, the predator must segregate the child from the parent as soon as possible. If the female has a good relationship with her father, this can never happen and the predator knows it. The female with a healthy parental relationship will confide in the father they trust and the father will move in to protect. The pedophile does this all while appearing sincere, genuine, loving, and affectionate. They compliment the target. Tell her things…like how smart or how beautiful she is. While they shower her with praise, they reinforce one message. “I accept you. I approve of you.” In truth, they are literally making notes as to what the target desires, dreams, and wants. They listen and reciprocate. The first three days are crucial for selecting a target. It’s all about trust and earning it fast. Time is of the essence. ... On day one, you want to select a target and study their wants, loves, hates, and weaknesses. Make an agreement to meet next day, same time, same place. This establishes a sense of dependency with the target. ... Shower with praise and develop a sense of acceptance. Make a request and watch her obey. Punish her with rejection. Reward with approval using gifts and compliments. All of this is impossible if a daughter knows her father loves her, and she isn’t needing the acceptance from others.

Over the next eight years, music was the frequency I rode on to carry me through my darkest days.

She was the keeper of my smile and my laugh. She who housed my hopes, my dreams, my spirit. She was the center of my being, the bane of my existence, she was my be-all and end-all.

That child would forever play in the gardens and dance with the rain. The child who would bury her face into lilacs and roses and blooms of hyacinth, and breathe in their sweet perfumes. She could ride on the wind and bathe in the stars. She who danced beneath the moon hearing music of her own as she ran through the shadows of the forest. The same child who scaled barefoot the cliffs of her glen and stripped her clothes off to stand naked in the rain while she gazed out over the waterfalls. (c)

The inner-most thoughts of our psyche. Those are the words we keep secret.