Change requires an admission of error. Your race devotes itself to justifying its errors, not correcting them.
But being small was so much more complicated than being God.
Perspective is a funny thing. You think your back is to the wall, then something worse corners you, and the first threat looks puny in comparison.
When she’d finally cranked up her favorite Godsmack CD in an effort to tune him out, he’d let out a roar that had rattled the windows in her car: By all that’s holy, woman, what is that hideous noise? Cease and desist! A battlefield at full charge could be no more cacophonous!
Beginnings are fragile things.
I stood staring at myself in the mirror trying to reconcile dual images. I was hunting the monster that had killed my sister. I was the monster that had killed his brother.
You don’t know me inside and out. You may have gotten in my skin, but you have never gotten inside my heart. Go ahead, Barrons, make me slice and dice myself. Go ahead, play games with me. Push me around. Lie to me. Bully me. Be your usual constant jackass self. Stalk around all broody and pissy and secretive, but you’re wrong about me. There’s something inside me you’d better be afraid of. And you can’t touch my soul. You will never touch my soul!
You will most certainly scream. I promise you that.
He will concede for her. Always only for her.
Werewolves? Oh please, just plain stupid. Who wants to get it on with a man who’s ruled by his inner dog? As if all men aren’t anyway, even without the lycanthrope gene.
I don’t smile. My smiles don’t make people relax.
The most critical, defining battles we wage in life, we wage alone. Against ourselves.
The devil is in the details. So, sometimes, is salvation.
You will not look at me,” she heard him say to the valets. “You will see only her.” A silence. Then, “And you will not look at her breasts.
I would have bargained with the devil for you, too, lass,” he said softly. “I’d have done anything too. I love you, Jessica. You are my one true mate, lass. Never forget that.
Why have you always cared so much about these tiny worlds?” “Why have you never?” He had once. When she’d cared about him. He’d made himself small for her and walked in her manner, tending small things. But being small was so much more complicated than being God.
He had so many ambitions. She had but one. To love.
That’s different. I’m the exception. To a lot of things.
Fact: you can never know another person completely. Fact: you are born alone and die alone. Fact: there is no such thing as safety. Only vigilance, determination to survive, and a willingness to be ruthless about it. Fact: love is not perfect. Fact: neither am I.
Ignoring it makes it irrelevant. No man wants his nudity to be irrelevant.