Ann Aguirre Quotes

I lived in an enclave in which our oldest had seen twenty-five years. His face was withered, and his fingers shook when he attempted the smallest tasks. Some whispered it would be a kindness to kill him, but they meant they didn't want to see their futures written in his skin.

There was no hiding my ignorance this time. They should be used to it by now.

That face." He finally came around the table, closing the distance between us, and I knew, I just knew he was going to frame my face in his hands, as he always had. "How can I live without this face?" Chapter Twenty-Two

I don't believe in love at all," he returns, equally quiet. "It's just a name people give the endorphins that spring up after some really hot fucking, and the justification they use to manipulate the shit out of each other afterward.

Do you miss him?" he asked. "Every day.

That's what I want without you running away afterward. I want to fall asleep and know there's no place you'd rather be.

We can figure something out." My tone was soft, thick with threatening tears. Losing Ty and Sam would break my world open like a tremor on a fault line.
"No, sweetness. We can't."
Chapter Twenty-Two

(B)ut tiny troubles had a way of swelling, like ticks grown fat with blood.

Age had nothing to do with how well my brain worked.

But if you're to be punished regardless if we're caught wouldn't it be better to have done something worth the price?

Are you afraid of falling, baby?
No, I'm afraid of landing.
[He's laughing, and I'm smiling.]
Stupid idiot smile, don't you know what comes next?

Sometimes certainty can sound an awful lot like madness.

That she could smile while I hurt in ways I could not understand - it broke something in me. I did not understand the heart of her, then. She is made of brightness, too much for sorrow. Such a glad spirit - I am humbled now that she shared it with me.

Sometimes I miss the old me.

She has eyes that shine like a night-hunting cat, and she's so lethal she can kill somebody with just her pinky. I'm not kidding about that.

As I dive between the legs of a big Gunnar, I see Mair wind up and slam her shockstick hard as she can between the V of another guy's thighs. Falling, he makes a noise that I can't say I've heard a human utter before, sort of like I imagine a puppy would sound being put through a juicer.

I admired Stalkers style. He was incredibly fast using two small blades strapped to the backs of his hands. Slash slash slash. Fighting him you wouldn't die of one great wound but instead bleed out slowly surprised to find yourself weak and dying after a thousand cuts.

I'm sick of asking questions everyone else already knows the answers to.

No history is ever unbiased.

Hey, that's why they in­vented the In­ter­net, her­manita. To talk about weird shit and down­load porn.

How can you miss someone who's right beside you?

A new voice pops up on the comm, relayed from the station. March. "What the frag are you doing, Triumph? Who's at the helm? I didn't give clearance for a pleasure cruise."
"Can't talk, Commander," Hit answers smoothly. "We're busy saving your ass.

Beautiful. And ugly. The world is always both.

Possessiveness isn't love. I'm not even sure it qualifies as an emotion.

And what do you think I'm after?"
"Her heart," I said. "Which is too bad. You see ... that's mine, and it always will be. Odd as it might seem, she'd rather have me broken than you whole.

I know just how he feels that it's come to this. Sometimes, love isn't enough, even when it's all you have.

I don't want them to focus on my outlaw tendencies. If they knew what a long, messy history I have of doing the opposite of what I'm told, things could get ugly.

He bent his head and brushed my lips with his. His hair spilled against my forehead, sleek and startling. Shock held me immobile, shock - and something else. Part of me wanted to lean into him.

I get it. You'd rather have him, broken, than me whole. If that didn't clarify my chances with you, nothing would. But you can't have what you want either, Deuce. I can't be your friend, feeling like this. Give me some time, and then ... Maybe. No promises.

Pull yourself together. People among the living still need your help, and I haven't given you permission to quit.

His wide mouth falls into amused lines. Everything dies. There's no way to stop that tide. In the end, all we have is the pleasure we take from life. For my people, it's not long. I can spend my time crying or I can live . I can seek wonder. Haven't you ever noticed that people tend to find what they're looking for, my friend?

My body was a machine, plain and simple. I worked it to stay strong; I fed it to keep it running.

Too often, women are portrayed in two ways: as prizes to be won by men or as damsels in distress.

Death is inexorable but not treacherous.

Dying in our sleep won't solve anything in the long run, even if a nihilist would argue it's coming down the pike at some point anyway, so we might as well embrace it.

Y'did some backcountry doctoring. Right brave, that was. But her thigh looks bad, and we're a day out of Salvation.

How do you measure love? Quantify it? It's not something you can put on a scale or pour into a beaker to examine its volume and viscosity.

They say you never forget your first glimpse of Gehenna. Over the tall buildings the sky swirls with orange and red, true titian, a feature of the unique atmosphere. Of course that same air would kill human beings; hence they built the entire city inside a dome. Eternal sunset, that's why the place is so wild. You know the feeling you get, just before full dark? Sundown makes you feel like the world burgeons with possibility, and that's Gehenna for you.
Like any other romantic notion, it's based on bullshit, of course. Gehenna isn't the land of eternal sunset and infinite potential. The gas in the atmosphere just makes it impossible to see the sun.

If there had been another female for him since we arrived in Salvation, I needed to cut off all her hair and beat her half to death. The strength of that impulse scared me, and I took a step back. Deuce the girl was every bit as vicious as the Huntress, it seemed

My life experiences are different than the average person because I've spent the last 10 years living in Mexico. I generally don't know what's going on in America, and when I do visit for work, I'm often interrogated about my life choices by random strangers.

Mother Mary of Anabolic Grace, we got Teras incoming?" He levels angry blue eyes on me. "You're a hex, lady, dark luck, powerful bad juju, ken?"
"Only to people who try to kidnap me," I tell him sweetly, and March snorts, so I feel obliged to add, "Or rescue me ... " And then Dina makes a pfft sound. "Or who travel with me ... " My gaze sweeps around the darkened interior, trying to find an ally, but nobody will hold my eyes more than two seconds, it seems. "Fine, frag you all, I'm dark juju, bad luck, and you're all doomed.

Nobility and self-sacrifice sound wonderful in theory, but now he's seen how it feels. A dead hero is still dead at the end of the day, and you're still alone.

If this is the last time, let me say it so you never forget. I will always love you, Deuce. No matter where souls go, mine will be looking for you, solnyshko moyo."
"No. I want a promise instead. Promise you'll fight like you never have, so when the dying stops, you'll be on your feet looking for me here."
"I swear.

A huntress never stabbed anything she didn't want to.

I have your back. I didn't mean only when it's easy. All the time.

Then in the interest of full honesty, I really wish you'd kiss me right now.

Not just when its easy. All the time.

In a place like this, there would be petty despots. Factions. This was a sunless world where madness and depravity reigned.

Since becoming aware of the need to be inclusive, I've tried to make my stories broader and more representative of our world.

March is such a maddening bundle of contradictions, brutal strength wrapped around a vulnerable core. The way he used to need me scared me to death - and now I'm afraid he'll never need me again.
I'm just never satisfied, am I?

Sometimes broken things heal crooked. The pieces didn't fit anymore.

This is the way we win over our enemies, not with bigger weapons, or faster ships, but with human courage, ingenuity, and sacrifice. Don't lose hope. We've faced the darkness before - it has nothing new to teach us. As we go about our lives, let us remember the example Dr. Navarro set for us. At the right time, anyone can be a hero.

People try to make sense of things, and if they don't know the answers, they make them up,because for some, a wrong answer is better than none.

My heart shifted a little in my chest; it seemed to swell and beat against my bones until I couldn't hear.

Because I love you...Not just when it's easy. All the time.

I couldn't help what I'd done before I learned it was wrong. I could only do better in the future.

We're both so fucking broken that I understand our strange attraction, a push-pull magnetism born of similar scars.

He doesn't have the words, so he does practical things instead.

I never felt beautiful unless I was fighting, and even then it was something that went beyond skin and bone into the kinetic joy of successive movements. Kick, thrust, slash. I never doubted Fade at my back. I never faltered.

Now I know there are ways to belong to someone that don't take anything away. A relationship shouldn't impose limits - and if it does, then it's wrong. A lover should help you exceed your potential, not clip your wings.

Men can be very stupid. We cease to value what we have until it's gone, and only then do we realize the gold we glimpsed in distant hills pales as dross compared to treasure we had in hand.

How many good soldiers will die, saving these civilians? And how many people will shrug later and say: That's their job.

But courage wasn't an absence of fear; it was fighting despite the knot in your stomach.

And maybe what I meant when I said that about Deuce is I don't want to do without her.

Maybe you can't save the world, but you'll never stop trying. It's the best thing about you.

I so enjoy it when people assume I'm stupid."
"Not that, just very focused on killing.

But I wished I could convince her that she didn't have to be anything in particular to be worth saving.

If you don't tell me what's on your mind, I can't guess

People need to believe they can make a difference - that one person standing strong can turn the tide.

I think my head's a minefield strewn with triggers, and maybe if I survive each explosion, what emerges from the wreckage will be me, really, truly me.

She carries chaos like an overcoat.

Sometimes you find your heroes in the unlikeliest places.

But wishes were empty thoughts, cast down a dark hole. They didn't come true unless you worked for them. I'd learned that about the world, if nothing more.

Just ... love me, and let tomorrow look after itself.

His face held a certain impassivity; you see it in all waiters and valets. They might want to jam a knife through your left eye socket, but you'd never know it from their expression. Working retail, I've acquired a similar look myself.

What you said about the sweetest pain? That fits us.

There's no guarantee I'll survive it, but that's sort of the human condition, isn't it? In the end, nobody gets out alive.

I'm as forgiving as the wall you hit at two hundred kilometers an hour.

I didn't ask if he meant his rescue or the deal with Stalker that involved kissing. I couldn't resist pushing, just a little. "So it won't bother you if I find someone else?"
His jaw clenched, and I saw the muscle move before he got it under control. "I thought you said you'd fight for me."
"And /you/ said it's too late." I offered him a faint smile along with his watch. "So it's a good thing I don't intend to listen to you.

Don't ever stop looking at me. I'm the shadow behind you light, and I might disappear without you.

This guilt is a joke, and it's exhausting to watch you martyr yourself.

For I need this scar over my heart to remind me. Crazy as it sounds, if I can bear the wound on my body, it lessens what I must carry on my soul. How he knew that about me, I cannot fathom.

Caring too much could be dangerous; I saw that now. But the alternative was no better.

Hell is our own memories, our bad choices.

The dark breaks wide in fragile rays. Dawn on Ithiss-Tor is more subtle than other sunrises. I have lost count of the worlds where I have stood and watched the light rise, peeling away the sky, sometimes in quiet colors, and sometimes in raw, violent slashes, as if the goddess I don't believe in has cut her veins. And sometimes, as on Gehenna, the sky changes not at all, just endless night, or endless brilliance
and after a time, the constant uniformity makes you feel as if you are the thing that must give way.

Because it takes more courage to heal the world's hurts than to inflict them.

What they don't know is, no matter how they decide, they can't penalize me more than I'm already punishing myself.

Sometimes the past needed to stay buried; it was the only way you could move on. And sometimes you had to dig it up, because that too was the only way.

I sighed. 'It's hard. You're the only one who listens to what I have to say.' Longshot dropped a gentle, comforting arm around my shoulders. 'Then speak louder, girl. Don't let them put out your spark.

They say funerals are not for the dead but for the living. Those rites are what permit you to move on, so if you don't deal with the remains, you can never deal with the memories. That might be true; we may have walked in their dust down on Venice Minor, but it's not the same as a proper good-bye.

I'm not sick, Deuce. You don't know your own charm.
My charm? I hadn't been aware I had any. It must be the dress, I thought.

Through the damp fabric of my coverall, bundled in my blanket, I feel naked. Raw. He sees more than I want, more than I can bear. It's like standing before him ... while he stares at my scars, pitiless and unmoved.

But folks took for granted their blessings and often didn't appreciate them until it was too late to offer thanks.

I don't think I've ever seen your handwriting before. It's an oddly personal thing, isn't it?

Did you ever try to stop that girl when she's running? I'd have more luck roping the wind.

You're clumsy. But it can't be helped. You are who you are.
It feels like the answer to a question I feared asking, like I've been searching every galaxy for this message.
You are who you are.

Spanish was weird that way: two words for monkeys, and esposas meant both wives and handcuffs. That said a lot.

These are not my people." The neutrality of the vocalizer makes his words more poignant for their lack of vehemence. "This is my race, but these are not my people." I don't know what to say to that, but he goes on, so I don't need to deal with my inadequacy. "I left here because I did not fit. I traveled, but never did I ... " He pauses, as the translator seeks a word - or perhaps he is thinking. "Belong. In more turns than you can imagine, the closest I have ever come to a home is with you, Sirantha.

My heart raced. He needs you, I thought. Don't let him down. I couldn't remember ever being so happy ... or so scared.

His reply offers infinite solace in a single word. Always.