Even now, my back was still arched with sensual invitation, my bottom was questing up like a cat in heat, and my every move was supple, sinuous. I was one great big come-hither.
I was a twenty-two-year-old single white female alone in a strange country where my sister had been killed.
Don’t lose yourself to anger. It’s gasoline. You can burn it as fuel, or you can use it to torch everything you care about and end up standing on a scorched battlefield, with everybody dead, even you-only your body doesn’t have the good grace to quit breathing.
I can’t help but see myself in them. The Seelie are who I was before my sister died. Pink, pretty, frivolous Mac. The Unseelie are who I’ve become, carved by loss and despair. Black, grungy, driven Mac.
It seemed Barrons had finally gotten his cake and eaten it too.
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.
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.
Love can grown among the rocks and thorns of life.
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?
There’s nothing I can’t live with. Only things I won’t live without.
She glanced rapidly between them, blinking and hoping her double vision would go away. They were glaring at each other. Would they fight? If she saw her own double she probably be tempted to punch it once or twice. Especially today. For being so stupid.
When Drustan reached the bottom step, she flung herself into his arms. He swung her up into his embrace and kissed her hungrily. By the time he’d finished, she was gasping for air and laughing. “My turn?” Dageus teased.
He was sexual in a way that made women think of deeply repressed fantasies therapists and feminists alike would cringe to hear tell of.
Don’t bother trying to guilt me. Ask my other. It doesn’t work.
It’s not my fault who I am. The only think that’s my fault is what I choose to do.
Hope is a critical thing. Whithout it, we are nothing. Hope shapes will. The will shapes the world.
Oh, drop the act, Tinkerbell, and get rid of my problem. Then we’ll talk.
Strength wasn‘t about being able to do everything alone. Strength was knowing when to ask for help and not being too proud to do it.
It’s so easy to lie. What’s even worse is how we cling to those lies. We beg for the illusion so we don’t have to face the truth, don’t have to feel alone.
One of the primary tenets of the course was that highly successful leaders kept journals, morning and night, in order to stay tightly focused on their goals.