"paranormal-romance"タグの名言

Because I love you. Don't you get it? Not because Cassandra is a part of you and Coroebus is a part of me. I love you because you are Nadira. The strange beautiful Nadira. The Nadira that has such hatred for me it kills to see the anger in your eyes whenever you even glance at me. I love Nadira. Not Cassandra. I love you.

If we became a pal to what scared us the most, we could find a simple way to ease all that bothered us, we would find peace, peace that we could live with.

Were you born with all your organs intact?” he responds. I can’t see his face, so I have no way of knowing where he’s going with this question. “Yes …” I say cautiously. “Good,” he responds, “then I expect you to use the one beneath your skull.” Damn. That insult burned a little.

Time is tick, tick, ticking away. How many souls will I capture today? Will they be a challenge or will they be given? Only time will tell as the clock keeps tick, tick, ticking. Your god has arrived with enough hatred for y’all, with enough evil for the big and small, so come one, come all. I will shred your souls and place them in my satchel, call you a settler and make you my peddler. Come one, come all, come stand behind your god. I will lead you into the darkness of Earth's end. Come one, come all, my wilted flowers, come claim your title, speak out and cheer it. Come one, come all, let’s have a ball, my wilted flowers . . . Sweet, Unconquerable Spirits.

It doesn’t matter what’s wrong with him. We’re not going to act like he doesn’t exist. Not anymore.

Fantasy novels reveal “emergency escape routes” from reality. Romance novels dish out a banquet of Eye Candy. Otherworldly passion erupts when the two collide in an epic novel of unforgettable characters and dire circumstances.

He took the pen and book from her and faltered. “Just write anything – anything trivial that won't matter if it comes to pass.” “Erm...” God, he was useless at this. Elena's hair turned blue. “Hey!” “What?” “I don't want blue hair! What the hell did you write that for?” “It seemed trivial.” “Blue hair – blue? That's trivial? What if I can't undo it?” Karl stared at her blankly. His throat went dry. He felt like a total dickhead, but writing really wasn't his strong point, so he went for humour instead and flashed her a grin. “I was going to write that all your clothes fall off, but figured you may have a problem with that. This was the second thing that came to mind.” (Karl and Elena)

I’m waiting with baited breath to hear that silver tongue of yours.

Nothing to do but admit that—obnoxious smirk or not—this boy is sexy af. A little wicked, a lot wild, and all dangerous.

I can see something in his eyes. Something powerful and terrible and all-consuming.

One hand was behind his back, and he held it out, presenting a bouquet of white and smoky purple lilies. “They’re straight from the underworld, by the way. They are everlasting. They won’t die.

I was such a messed up person and he was still holding on.

Who wanted to be smiled at by the girl that trailed shadows like pets, conjured snakes and waited for Death, her bridegroom, to steal her from these walls?

When your demon was yourself, there really was no way to fight or get rid of it.

Rejection is an opportunity for your selection.

The difference between vampires and angels? Angels are real.

I feel a little like Wendy Darling. Peering out my window, hoping to be swept off by magic.

Ocean gusts slunk between the trees, who whispered to one another about The Great White Father being home; how everything was back to how it should be.

When you’re in your twenties and you haven’t fully realized what you look for in a partner, the single market has about everything you can imagine and more. And you’re like a blank canvas—everyone’s like a blank canvas—as you discover how to paint a relationship together. Later in life, when you’ve experienced love and heartbreak and you find yourself single again and returning to the spouseless market, you kind of figure out that what’s left for you…is not a blank canvas for you to write your story on anymore. Every bachelor comes with a previous story, with drama and emotional baggage from their past relationships. And you—you—have to deal with it all, measure the puzzle pieces and see if somehow they might fit within the gaps and cracks left by your own experiences.

The week wasn’t even over and on top of Sam and Emma getting dumped slash divorced, Zoey remembered Ben the janitor freshly divorcing his spouse and Christopher Grave breaking it off for the billionth time with none other than Anthony Bush, her first adult crush. Those two were probably going to go on and off like the Grand Slam anyway. The world was soon coming to a broken-hearted zombie apocalypse with the not-so-better halves roaming the Earth in search of the one meant to put an end to the misery, sales of self-help books going high, therapists’ agendas fully booked, and chick flicks gone out of the shelves of video rental stores—if there were any left post Netflix.