J.M. Richards Quotes

No - I've got it," Jill announced, interrupting my musing. "He's a vampire." I laughed again, feeling there was no end to the outrageous, ridiculous excuses we were coming up with. "Seriously, it makes sense. He's always tired and pale, and keeps himself away from people so he won't bite them ... Maybe that's what he's doing when he disappears. Getting his fix of blood.

For someone who wrote a novel with a superhero named "Dark Lightning," you wouldn't think a thunderstorm would make me so nervous.

Amazing? My heart fluttered. "But I don't want Flash or Harry," I murmured. "You want Spider-Man," he finished for me, looking a little wistful. I shrugged. "And Peter Parker." He looked at me, very seriously. "Then don't settle," he said.

If you want to call it quits, just tell me. Man up and say it to my face. Don't just skulk around.

As we were about to cross the road, Davin suddenly grabbed my wrist and held me back a moment; a car peeled out of the driveway and roared past us. "Geez," I gasped, and then, glancing at him curiously, I added, "Thanks." He didn't say anything, but slowly released my wrist. Before he completely withdrew, I took his hand and interlaced my fingers through his. He looked at me, his lips parted in surprise, but then he smiled shyly and gave my hand a squeeze as we kept walking. It gave me a feeling of nervous flutters in the best way. As we walked up to the doors, Jill and Laurel came bursting out the exit.

I didn't say anything; I could find no words that would express the swirled chaos of emotions inside me. So I just watched him go right out the door.

Last Resort friends are for getting from, not giving to.

If he can't handle it, then you aren't very good friends, are you?

What I've come to realize I that I don't like action for action's sake. Mindless explosions, super close ups of combat and gore, and unnecessary effects make me zone out incredibly fast.
What I do love is a fight that is well choreographed and in which I actually care about the outcome. And hopefully not riddled with cliches.
Even more so, I have had a long, deep-seated appreciation for watching chicks kick ass. Watching some lone-wolf-type hero beat the crap out of the bad guys is okay, but watching a BAMF femme do it is 10000% times better.

Anna, you do have decent fashion sense. But I've seen your outfits, and you don't have anything to wear on a date. Jeans, capris, geeky tee shirts, and more jeans.

Um, you don't have to join me, but if you're looking for a table, there are a couple good seats over there. He nodded toward the far end.

I said. "I'm fine. I have a little bit of a head ache, but I'm not dizzy or nauseous. I can walk and talk just fine, and I can remember everything." "Everything, huh? Don't self-diagnose, Doctor Fisher. Do you remember when the Battle of Bunker Hill was fought?" "The what?" "The Battle of Bunker Hill. We covered it in World Civ." "No, we did not." "We did, too. The unit on the American Revolution." "Davin, that was like, two years ago! I don't remember stuff like that!" "So, not everything." "Everything important." "That happens to have been a very significant battle," Davin reminded me, in a smug tone.

Jill!" I called to her through our connecting bathroom as I pulled on some jeans. "You realize I've been more than twenty-four hours without a shower, right?" "Oh, who cares," she grumbled. "You look fine. Just put on some deodorant and a bra. I mean, aren't we just going to be getting sweaty lugging your stuff down from storage anyway?

He smiled at me shyly and took a step closer. I froze, heart pounding, as he put one hand on my cheek and leaned toward me. I swallowed, gazing up at him with what I hoped was an expectant (and not alarmed) expression. He bent his head toward mine and ...

Alan shrugged. "I love the CBC, really, but being voted its president - " "Co-president," Sputnik corrected. " - is kind of like being declared King of Nerds." "Co-king," Sputnik asserted.

You definitely are deep water Dr. Fisher. Fathoms deep.

You have to be a friend to have them.

No one wants to go through life alone, fighting battles single-handedly their whole life. Not even the hardiest of heroes. That's just a miserable existence. Everyone needs someone in their corner, right? ... Even if you could," I wrinkled my brow, "would you really want to? By all accounts, it gets lonely being your own hero.

Who are you?" he asked, in a bewildered tone. I cocked my head at him, totally baffled. "I told you. Anna Fisher. And I happen to be starving, so let's go." I tugged at his arm and led him back in line.

Telling me I'm pretty is nice and all, but if you really want to make my day, tell me I inspired you to read a book. Say you picked up a novel I've raved about and that you fell in love with it, too. Or tell me the time we spent reading aloud together was one of your favorite moments. Ask me to read to you, and beg for another chapter. This will fill me with indescribable joy and purpose.
And if you really want to make me speechless with wonder, tell me it was MY words and MY story you enjoyed. Tell me you shed tears over the things my characters went through, and that you're just a little bit in love with them, too. I might never recover. I will carry those words around in my heart for the rest of my life, like a talisman against all past and future criticisms.
That's how important stories are to me.