Knowing and doing are two separate things, and don't always sync up in life.
Power is a fickle mistress, easy to seduce, but even easier to lose. That's how it works. One moment she is your closest confidant, whispering the secrets of the universe into your ear; the next, she is your vilest oppressor—and once her ears close...
You would do well to guard your tongue, lest it be stricken from you.
Maybe in a way all living things are like flickering flames in a precarious night, always on the verge of being extinguished. Whether we kindle slowly but steadily, or go out in a brilliant burst of light and color, is our choice. Perhaps the most im...
I didn't understand what it was about men—not all men, but a good portion of them—that turned a good, solid “NO” into an “I'm just playing coy; try harder.
I was supposed to be powerless, and as a result they failed to see that I possessed claws.
If I catch you, I might do anything. I might strip the skin from your bones as I drain you dry. Or I might drag you into my chambers and have you pleasure me in ways you cannot even imagine. I might even take mercy on you, and that would be the cruel...
You think you're superior to the others, don't you? We'll you're not. In fact you're worse for mistaking basic human decency for moral superiority.
That's what I fear: being subtracted from myself. Negation. Forced against my will to become a beast.
Maybe that was the root of my dislike for her: she had what I wanted, which earned her my jealousy, and since I was ashamed of myself for wanting it, my scorn, as well.
Valys also didn't think I was good enough for him. He made that clear every time he acted like a martyr forced to settle. But what he didn't understand was that if he thought I might not be good enough for him, he definitely wasn't good enough for me...
Girls can fight with swords, too. Sometimes, even better than men can. They just have to want it badly enough that they're willing to work harder at it.
You may have bought my body, you may even have the papers to prove it, but don't fool yourself into thinking for a moment that my heart and mind were included in the purchase.
Hatred is as easy as slipping on a well-worn woolen cloak. If only it provided the comfort of one.
We spend much of our lives going about completely blind to reality, and yet we still have the gall to act victimized when it invariably catches up to us.
Remember how it feels, Silent One. That murderous rage, and how it makes your blood boil. Remember, and let it carry you the rest of the way—only, learn to freeze it, as well, because the best killers are those who can put their desires on ice.
A story unwritten is without beginning or end. But in its potential lies another story; and in the heartbeat before pen meets page, both stories exist at once, reflecting endless permutations of the other, before one of them disappears forever.
One doesn't need to be taught fear when one is the hunted.
