One day you will kiss a man you can’t breathe without, and find that breath is of little consequence.
The most confused we ever get is when we’re trying to convince our heads of something our heart knows is a lie.
Some people bring out the worst in you, others bring out the best, and then there are those remarkably rare, addictive ones who just bring out the most. Of everything. They make you feel so alive that you’d follow them straight into hell, just to keep getting your fix.
You’re leaving me, Rainbow Girl.
Nobody looks good in their darkest hours. But it’s those hours that make us what we are.
Its our actions that define us. What we choose. What we resist. What we’re willing to die for.
I love books, by the way, way more than movies. Movies tell you what to think. A good book lets you choose a few thoughts for yourself.
When you know who I am. Let me be your man.
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?
Time heals. No, it doesn’t. At best, time is the great leveler, sweeping us all into coffins. We find ways to distract ourselves from the pain. Time is neither scalpel nor bandage. It is indifferent. Scar tissue is not a good thing. It is merely the wound’s other face.
Love knows no right or wrong. Love is. Only is.
Some things are sacred. Until you act like they’re not. Then you lose them.
It’s just that in the Deep South, women learn at a young age that when the world is falling apart around you, it’s time to take down the drapes and make a new dress.
I didn’t ask. Some things are better left unsaid. He looked at me and I shivered. I never get enough of him. Never will. He lives. I breathe. I want. Him. Always. Fire to my ice. Ice to my fever. Later we would go to bed, and when he rose over me, dark and vast and eternal, I’d know joy.
Four: If you try to force yourself into my head, I will force myself into your pants.
I have a black sense of humor. You try living my life, see what color yours turns.
No matter how people try to dispute it, perception is reality. Its what you choose to believe that makes you the person you are.