Laurell K. Hamilton
American erotic horror and science fiction/fantasy writer.
We hate most in others what we dislike in ourselves.
I smiled at him but knew it did not reach my eyes. I smiled because he smiled at me, more reflex than emotion. Inside I was nothing. It was a little like being in shock. Shock is nature's insulation, the thing that shuts you down so you can heal, or sometimes so you can die without hurting, or being afraid...
I stepped out of the car on the rat king's arm, like a trophy wife--exept for the wrist sheaths and the two folding knives hidden in my clothing. Somehow I think trophy wives wear more makeup and less cutlery. But, Hey, I haven't met a trophy wife, maybe I'm wrong. Maybe they know what I know, that the true way to a man's heart is six inces of metal between his ribs. Sometimes four inches will do the job, but to be really sure, I like to have six. Funny how phallic objects are always more useful the bigger they are. Anyone who tells you size doesn't matter has been seeing too many small knives.
"Always needing to have the last word is a bad trait Ms. Blake, pisses people off."
You ask yourself "What is love? Am I in love?", when what you should be asking is, "What is not love?", ma petite. What is it that this man does for you that is not done out of love?
People are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when the knowledge is so damn frightening.
Pretend hard enough and maybe it will go away.
He wanted to feed the hunger of his skin. The hunger of his body not so much for orgasm but for that need to be held close and tight, that need we all have to press our nakedness against someone else's.
Anita: My life works for me right now, but it wouldn't work for a child.
Ronnie: Why, because you don't have a husband?
Anita: No, because people try to kill me on a semiregular basis.