The true measure of a man has nothing to do with years and everything to do with how well he looks after those who depend upon him.
Alone.’Twas her destiny to be ever surrounded by others, yet ever alone.
A true friend never asks you to feed their imaginary fish. Or fertilize their imaginary crops.
You care enough to play hard to get.
We’re all haunted in one way or another, are we not? If not by spirits, then by our own demons and regrets.
Love does nothing but make you weak! It turns you into an object of pity and derision-a mewling pathetic creature no more fit to live than a worm squirming on the pavement after a hard summer rain.
Twitter is the perpetual cocktail party where everyone is talking at once but nobody is saying anything.
His lips nuzzled her ear. “Whether you go or stay, I will love you until I die,” he whispered.
Before you came into my life, I believed that God had abandoned me. Now I know that He has blessed me beyond measure. -sir Bannor-.
Then you’re a bigger fool than I thought. Since when has any man ever been worthy of the woman he loved? It’s only by God’s grace that they love us in spite of ourselves.
To me you are stardust sprinkled across a night sky, forever in my dreams, but out of my reach.
A lady has every right to defend herself against unsought advances. And creatures of the night.
Older sisters are far more powerful than vampires. Not even garlic or a crucifix will keep us away when we’re determined to meddle in your affairs.
Their gazes met. His eyes swept her in a velvet caress, uncertainty stamped on his features. The night loomed between them, as dark and impenetrable as his eyes. Rowena had to look away. She forced herself to remember how he had used his body and her need as weapons to weave a punishing net of pleasure.
My heart, as you well know, Bright Eyes, has always been yours for the asking. Or the staking.
Arian’s ebony hair was spread in a shimmering fan around her shoulders, reminding Tristan absurdly of Snow White in her glass coffin. Even in death, hadn’t the deceptive blush of life stained Snow White’s pallid cheeks? Hadn’t her rosebud lips parted as if to welcome a kiss from a prince who might never come? Hadn’t the creamy swell of her breasts tantalized every hopelessly naive kid in the theater into daring to believe her chest would rise just one more time?
There is none so blind as he who will not see.
Daca un barbat refuza sa creada o femeie pe care pretinde ca o iubeste, atunci, spune-mi, barbate, care dintre ei este cel necredincios?
To Fate, a fickle mistress whose sense of justice is exceeded only by her sense of humor.
Her scent filled his nostrils. He was shocked to feel his throat tighten with a primal hunger. She smelled like her mother, but fresher, sweeter somehow. Some primitive male instinct warned him this was a bloom still on the vine, fragrant and tender and ripe. He scowled. She might be nectar to a another man, but to a MacDonnell, Dougal Cameron’s daughter would be more deadly than nightshade.