Laurell K. Hamilton Quotes

I sipped my own coffee, heavy on the sugar and cream, trying to make up for the late work the night before. Caffeine and sugar, the two basic food groups.

If I was truly as brave as I thought I was, I'd have let him go. But I loved him, and I wasn't that brave.

What is that old children's rhyme, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me'? Anyone who says that doesn't understand the power of words. They can cut deeper than any knife, hit harder than any fist, touch parts of you that nothing physical will ever reach, and the wounds that some words leave never heal, because each time the word is thrown at you, labeled on you, you bleed afresh from it. It's more like a whip that cuts every time, until you feel it must flay the very skin from your bones, and yet outwardly there is no wound to show the world, so they think you are not hurt, when inside part of you dies every time.

Very few people see their own actions as truly evil, ... It is left to their victims to decide what is evil and what is not.

Women may get to wear lots of
pretty colors, but men get the comfortable shoes.
Anita Blake Vampire Hunter

I'd had Jean-Claude drive the metaphysical bus before, but I'd never felt it like this, never been so aware of how terribly aware he was of his power, of my power, of the power we all offered him. He was vampire, which meant he was a cold power, a thing of logic, because emotions do not trouble the dead. He shifted through our talents, like Edward would have looked through his gun safe. Which gun will do the job? Which will make this shot?

Sex was like money in the bank; if you made regular and sizable deposits, you earned more interest. Jean-Claude had earned a lot of interest over the years.

We are not going to have a zombie-versus-vampire war through the streets of Dublin, Nathaniel.

An absolute monarch who believes in free will, isn't that against the rules?" Onilwyn asked.
"No," I said, my face buried against Adair's skin, "it's not. Not against my rules." My voice was beginning to drag with that edge of sleep.
"I think I will like your rules," Onilwyn said and his voice, too, was growing heavy.
"The rules, yes," Rhys said, "but the housework is a bitch.

He wanted you dead, now he doesn't, I don't know why. Chimera's crazy, he doesn't need a reason to change his mind.

He ordered food with a childlike glee and watched me eat, tasting it as I did. In private he'd roll on his back like a cat, hands pressed to his mouth as if trying to drain every taste. It was the only thing he did that was cute. He was gorgeous, sensual, but rarely cute.
- Anita Blake about Jean-Claude

There are things that can harm a lot more than physically.

I like conventions. I like meeting and greeting. I'm perched on that edge where I'm getting more attention than I quite know what to do with, though.

Confidence is a fine trait. Over-confidence isn't.

It's not about winning, Haven. I'm not a prize to be won. I'm not the princess that needs rescuing from the dragon. I'm the prince and I kill my own monsters. You need to be ok with that. -Anita Blake

You should never attack a necromancer in a cemetery; it's like chasing Rambo into a building full of loaded guns. Some people seem to help you kill them.

What is love? Sometimes it's just letting yourself be who and what you are, and letting the person you're supposed to love be who and what he is too. Or maybe what and who they are.

Not dating is a choice, not a failure.

The only part of love that is blind is that first rush of endorphins and craziness; after that wears off, no one knows you as honestly, warts and all, as the people who love you, truly love you.

She looked up at me, eyes puffy, nose running. Real crying is like real sex. If you really do it, it isn't pretty.

His eyes widened just a bit, his lips flexed. I realized he was trying not to laugh. I hate it when people find my threats amusing.

I felt like shit, but it was happy shit.

What do you do when you know you are breaking someone's heart, but to do anything else would break your own?

There are wounds that never show on the body that are deeper and more hurtful than anything that bleeds.

Remember your personal demons should be afraid of you, because you are their home, their food, and as you heal, their executioner.

I really wish the "normal" people would leave us freaks alone and stop trying to save us. We get by, we take care of each other, and the people who cost the freaks their jobs didn't give them employment, or a place to stay, or a family to be a part of; they just destroyed their world and felt morally superior for doing it.

If you love someone, truly love them, you should never cause them pain. Never fill their eyes with something so close to grief.

Sometimes it's not the optimist you need, but another pessimist to walk beside you and know, absolutely know, that the sound in the dark is a monster, and it really is as bad as you think.
Did that sound hopeless? It didn't feel hopeless. It felt reassuring. It felt - real.

Do you practice the laugh, or is it a natural talent? Naw, I'm betting you practice."
Jean-Claude's face twisted. I couldn't decide if he was trying not to laugh, or not to frown. Maybe both. I affected some people that way.
The laughter seeped out of her face, very human, until only her eyes sparkled. There was nothing funny about the look in those twinkling eyes. It was the sort of look a cat gives a small bird.
Her voice lifted at the end of each word, a Shirley Temple affectation. "You are either very brave, or very stupid."
"You really need at least one dimple to go with the laugh."
Jean-Claude said softly, "I'm betting on stupid.

Was I his? Was he mine? Fuck, I didn't know. How could I not know after more than a year? How could I not know the answer to this? What the fuck was wrong with me? What the fuck was wrong ... with me? With ... him and me, with us? No, with me. With me. What was wrong with me?

If it works out, it's the best thing in the world. If it doesn't work out, it's like having your heart torn out and chopped up into little pieces while you watch. It leaves a big hollow space that never really heals.

Magic, if that was the right word, often rises and falls on your own belief in your abilities. I've seen very powerful people completely crippled by self-doubt.

It's been my experience, Requiem, that people become more of who they are in extremes, both good and bad. Give a truly good person power, and they're still a good person. Give a bad person power, and they're still a bad person. The question is always about the person in between. The one that isn't evil, or good, but just ordinary. You don't always know what an ordinary person is like on the inside.' He

Never interrupt when you're winning.

I will bathe in your warmth ma petite. Roll you around me until my heart beats only for you. My breath will grow warm from your kiss.

Ll K Hamilton
Some days the lion eats you, but some times you shove your arm down it's throat and pull it's visera out through it's mouth and kill it. Of course, sometimes it bites your arm off, and then eats you, but you tried, that's what counts. Some days it's not about winning, but about fighting. If you don't try, the lion will most definetely eat you. But sometimes when you put your all into something, and don't give up even when the odds are so against you, you surprise the lion and yourself, and you win.

Richard was a riddle with no answer, and I was tired of playing a game I couldn't win.

This had been a bad section of town before the Circus moved in and brought in money, which attracted other businesses. The area had been gentrified not because of some government interference, but by good old-fashioned capitalism, which was one of Jean-Claude's favorite things.

Graves are for the living, not the dead. It gives us something to concentrate on instead of the fact that our loved one is rotting under the ground.

He made a small sigh, as he swallowed the first blood, then his mouth closed over my earlobe, mouth working at the wound, tongue coaxing blood from the wound. He pressed his body the length of mine, one hand cupping my turned head, the other playing down the line of my body. Maybe it was just blood, but I never stroked my steak while eating it.

We would never go shopping together or eat an entire cake while we complained about men. He'd never invite me over to his house for dinner or a barbecue. We'd never be lovers. But there was a very good chance that one of us would be the last person the other saw before we died. It wasn't friendship the way most people understood it, but it was friendship. There were several people I'd trust with my life, but there is no one else I'd trust with my death.

I feel that if you are blessed, or lucky enough, to be doing well, you should help others.

Every ruler should strive for his people to love him. But if they cannot love you, then make them fear you. Love is better, but fear will do the job.

No matter how careful you are, you can end up pregnant. That's what sex is designed to do, after all. So, never sleep with someone who's mean or stupid, and ugly is a judgment call, because all three may breed true.

I am always sincere, ma petite, even when I lie. - Jean Claude

When God ignores you, the devil starts looking good.

Hesitation will get you killed.

I'd never met coffee that wasn't wonderful. It was just a matter of how
wonderful it was.

I am not always certain that it is I who am the better person, ma petite, but together we are the better person.

Quit drawing out the story

All fear is the same no matter the cause of it; you conquer or are conquered by it. I wasn't into losing, not even to myself, maybe especially to myself.

If you're alive, don't move, if you're dead, don't worry about it.

Power makes you a monarch, and all the fancy robes in the world won't do the job without it.

Only love of a good woman will make a man question every choice, every action. Only love makes a warrior hesitate for fear that his lady will find him cruel. Only love makes a man both the best he will ever be, and the weakest. Sometimes all in the same moment. -Wicked

I hate women who complain about being fat when they're like a size 5. Anything under size 5 isn't a woman. It's a boy with breasts.

Readers respond to every genre intensely, if it's a genre that appeals to them. Again, who can say why anyone enjoys horror and dark fantasy? If I can't answer the question for myself, I wouldn't dream of trying to answer it for others.

I could have just said I'm good at my job, but I didn't. Didn't want the police thinking I was holding out information when I wasn't. I've got one advantage over a normal homicide detective, I expect it to be a monster. No one ever calls me in if it's just a stabbing, or a hit-and-run. I don't spend a lot of time trying to come up with nice, normal explanations. It means I get to ignore a lot of theories.

There will always be victims, Anita. Predators and prey, it is the way of the world.

There is a frozen moment after a really good shot to the face. A moment of shock, or paralysis where all you can do is blink.

Law is enforced the way the law is written; it's not about true justice, it's about interpretation of the law and who has the best lawyer.

The only true happiness lies in knowing who you are ... and making peace with it.

And perhaps, because I liked you. His laughter was bitter, like broken glass.

Besides I'm a sucker for a pair of pretty eyes.

Remember, that the darkness is not bad, just different, and all that is good, or bad, is there in the light, or the dark, only our perception changes.

Can the sarcasm,' he said. 'Please, I always use fresh sarcasm, never canned.

Death, jewelry, or magic; it sounded like Valentine's Day.

They say not to look back, but if you're not sure what lies ahead, what else is there but looking back?

I HAD GOTTEN to see the sun rise as I drove home that morning. I hate sunrises.

Watching St John rock his wife's body was not part of my job description. Honest. I sat down on the stairs where I could see the door, the hallway, and the stairs as far as the landing. St John started singing in a strange, broken voice. It took me a few minutes to figure out what he was singing. It was 'You are so Beautiful

Truth could be violent, could strip you of dignity and hope just as quickly as a gun.

Sex is like crying, it does look pretty if you really do it

I tried to picture a young, insecure Edward and couldn't, but it was nice to know that once he'd been a boy. Sometimes it felt like Edward had sprung full grown from the head of some violent deity,like a vicious version of Athena.

I got out my jar of ointment. I knew animators who had special containers for the ointment. Crockery, hand-blown glass, mystical symbols carved into the sides. I used an old Mason jar that had once held Grandma Blake's green beans.
Larry fished out a peanut butter jar with the label still on it. Extra-crunchy. Yum-Yum.

Edward smiled, I smiled, even Bernardo smiled. Olaf just looked sinister.

I knew without doubt that if any more of the vampires tried to attack us I'd kill them, too, regardless of apparent age, race, sex, or religious affiliations. I was an equal-opportunity executioner; I killed everybody.

I walked towards her. Jean-Claude grabbed my arm. "Do not harm her, Anita. She is under our protection."
"I swear to you that I will not lay a finger on her tonight. I just want to tell her something."
He released my arm, slowly, like he wasn't sure it was a good idea. I stepped next to Monica, until our bodies almost touched. I whispered into her face, "If anything happens to Catherine, I will see you dead."
She smirked at me, confident in her protectors. "They will bring me back as one of them."
I felt my head shake, a little to the right, a little to the left, a slow precise movement. "I will cut out your heart." I was still smiling, I couldn'tseem to stop. "Then I will burn it and scatter the ashes in the river. Do you understand me?"
She swallowed audibly. Her health-club tan looked a little green. She nodded, staring at me like I was the bogey man.
I think she believed I'd do it. Peachy keen. I hate to waste a really good threat

Most of the monsters ... are based on some sort of mythology. Every culture and even some geographical areas have monsters and mythology that is their own.

It was an hour before dawn. When all the Whos down in Whoville were asnooze in their beds without care. Sorry, wrong book. If I get to stay awake until dawn, I get just a tad slaphappy.

You're up to something," I said.
He turned, eyes wide, long fingers pressed to his heart. "Moi?"
"Yeah, you,

A lot of people lounge by pools in L.A., but few of them are truly immortal, no matter how hard they pretend with plastic surgery and exercise. Doyle was truly immortal and had been for over a thousand years. A thousand years of wars, assassinations, and political intrigue, and he'd been reduced to being eye candy in a thong bathing suit by the pool of the rich and famous.

[Roland] jerked back too fast to see, and his fist was suddenly connecting with my chin. I didn't pass out, but my body went limp. Part of me was screaming silently. The other part was saying, 'Oh, what pretty trees.

I thought about that as he held me in the curve of his body. I thought about him enjoying the killing. I didn't like the thought much, but if he was a sociopathic killer, then he was my sociopathic killer.

What are you afraid of?' I asked.
'Airplanes, guns, large predators, ad master vampires.

Bernardo looked at me, shaking his head. "I've never heard Edward talk about any woman the way he talks about you."
I raised eyebrows at him. "Meaning?"
"Dangerous. He talks about you like you're dangerous.

Had Richard really proposed? Had I really said yes? Surely not. I had said yes. Shit.

Once upon a time wasn't as long ago as it used to be.

Perfection is an unattainable goal. It isn't going to be perfect. Just get words down on paper, and when you stumble to what you think is the end of the book, you will have hundreds of pages of words that came out of your head. It may not be perfect, but it looks like a book.

I want a kiss to be so believable it gives the reader shivers.

You lie like butter wouldn't melt in your mouth, Edward."
He smiled. "I don't lie to you."
"Really," I said.
The smile became a grin. "Okay, not most of the time, anymore." His face sobered. "I'm not lying now.

Just what I needed - a necromancer with an attitude. Oh, wait, I was a necromancer with an attitude.

If I don't say it enough, Jean-Claude, I love you, I love seeing your face across the table while we eat, and watching you root at Cynric's football games, and watching you read bedtime stories to Matthew when he stays with us, and a thousand surprising things, all of it, its you, and I love you."
"You will make me cry."
"A smart friend told me that it's okay to cry, sometimes you're so happy it spills out your eyes.

Anyone who says love is free has never truly been in love. Your lover will need comfort. Your spouse will have bad days. Your child will have their heart broken, more than once and you will be expected to help pick up the pieces. Your beloved pets become a parade of joy and loss. Love costs, sometimes it costs everything you have, and sometimes it costs more. On those days you weigh the joy you gain against the pain; you weigh the energy given from the loving and the energy lost from the duties that love places upon us. Love can be the most expensive thing in the world. If it's worth it, great, but if not, then love does not conquer all, sometimes you are conquered by it. You are laid waste before the breathtaking pain of it, and crushed under the weight of it's obligations.

Poly isn't about being completely fair for most people. There are some who run it with a near perfect equality, but for most of us there are primary relationships, there are secondary, and even ones less serious than that.

Sometimes love isn't about being smart. Sometimes it's about being stupid together.

I'll do my bit tonight, but forgive me if it's a little harder to keep going than normal. Forgive me if I'm not superwoman after all."
"Not superwoman?" he exclaimed, putting a hand on his chest in mock surprise.
"You've lied to me all these years!

I wanted to say something brilliant. My God, Holmes, how did you know the zombie was hiding in the flower pot? But I couldn't lie.

You give the reader a sense of a full meal.

You're the scarest motherfucker in the room.

You don't smoke do you?"
"No, why?"
"They're afraid of fire."
"Great, we're going to be eaten alive because neither of us smokes."
I almost laughed. He sounded so thoroughly disgusted ...

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Jean-Claude's eyes widened just a bit. 'Ma petite, you have had a busy night, I see.' His French accent was as thick as I'd heard it in a while, which meant he was feeling strong emotions that he couldn't quite hide, but he was trying. I appreciated the effort, because the accent alone meant that what he wanted to say was his version of, You are covered in blood and worse, which means you were in horrible danger and probably nearly died … again! How can you keep risking yourself like that when I love you so much?