Mad Rogan Quotes

Do you have a girlfriend?" Grandma Frida asked. I put my hand over my face. "No," Mad Rogan said. "A boyfriend?" Grandma Frida asked. "No." "What about ... " "No," Mom and I said in unison. "But you don't even know what I wanted to ask!" "No," we said again together. "Party poopers." Grandma shrugged. ~ Ilona Andrews

How do we get out of this circle?" I asked him.
"We kill him," he said.
"Good. Let's kill him and go home."
"I thought you'd never ask. ~ Ilona Andrews

He took the risk and his people had died. He blamed himself. It didn't reflect in his face, but I saw it in his eyes for a brief moment, before they went back to their icy blue. The last time we talked, I was almost completely convinced that he was a sociopath. He seemed invulnerable, as if nothing could bother him. This did. ~ Ilona Andrews

Can you turn so you're not pressed against me?"
"I could," he said, his voice amused. "But then you would have to lie on top of me."
My brain said, "NO." My body went, "Wheee! ~ Ilona Andrews

Mr. Rogan," I frosted my voice over. "What I put into my body is my business." Okay, that didn't sound right. ~ Ilona Andrews

He chuckled into my hair. My body decided this would be a fine moment to remember that his body was wrapped around mine and his body was muscular, hard, and hot, and my butt was pressed against his groin. Cuddled up by a dragon. No, thank you. Let me off this train.

"If you keep wiggling, things might get uncomfortable," he said into my ear, his voice like a caress. "I'm doing my best, but thinking about baseball only takes you so far. ~ Ilona Andrews

What happened?" I asked quietly.
"I lost some people," [Rogan] said. There was an awful finality in his voice.
I hadn't thought he cared. I'd thought he viewed his people as tools and took care of them because tools had to be kept in good repair, but this sounded like genuine grief - that complicated cocktail of guilt, regret, and overwhelming sadness you felt when someone close to you died. It broke you and made you feel helpess. Helpless wasn't even in Rogan's vocabulary. ~ Ilona Andrews

Did you send an escort with my family?" "Yes. They're a target." "How did you know they would be leaving?" "My people saw them load up, called me, and I told them to follow." Duh. "Thank you." "You're welcome. I plan to hold them hostage until you sleep with me." I stumbled. He turned and gave me a brilliant, impossibly handsome smile. "Just kidding." Damn it. ~ Ilona Andrews

You have a strange look on your face," he said.
"I just realized I shouldn't be in the same vehicle with you. In fact, I shouldn't have called you in the first place, so I'm trying very hard to rewind time. ~ Ilona Andrews

Speak to me."
"I hate you."
"Okay." Mad Rogan let go of me. "You're fine. ~ Ilona Andrews

So, are we still on tonight? For our dinner?" I asked.
"Hell, yes. We're on for tonight. We're on for tomorrow. We're on for the foreseeable future."
. ~ Ilona Andrews

Oh. "So the best way to fight you is to strip naked and attack?"
His eyes flashed with a wicked light. "Yes. You should try it and see what happens. ~ Ilona Andrews

Had I known you were going to pull a pretty ribbon out of your sleeve like some two-bit magician, tie me up with it, and indulge your mental torture fetish in your basement, I would've shot you. Many times."
"Two-bit magician?"
"Men like you enjoy being flattered. ~ Ilona Andrews

I didn't expect to sit here for hours. But if you're too hot, feel free to take the bra off." I gave him the finger. "What are you?" he asked. "I'm the woman you chained in your basement. I'm your captive. Your ... victim. Yes, that's the right word. All of that education. How come nobody ever explained to you that you can't just kidnap people because you feel like it? ~ Ilona Andrews

If you prefer, I can acquire a windowless creeper van, and we can huddle in it and eat greasy take out. ~ Ilona Andrews

Mad Rogan saw me and smiled. And my mind went right into the gutter. ~ Ilona Andrews

I can make you feel touched." He paused. "It would be easier if I showed you. Do I have permission?"
Yes. "No." Being touched by Mad Rogan wasn't a good idea.
We kept walking. What would it be like?"
"Does it hurt?"
"No."
How would it feel?
Would it feel . . . oh hell.
"Okay." I stopped. We were in front of a small alcove. Nobody was around. If I made an idiot out of myself, nobody would notice. "Just once."
A soft burst of heat touched the back of my neck. I'd never felt anything like it before. It was as if someone had touched me with a heated mink glove, but the touch wasn't soft, it was firm. It felt . . . it felt . . .
The heat slid down my neck, fast, over my spine, setting every single nerve on fire before melting in the small of my back, its echoes pulsing through me. My body sang. He'd strummed me like I was a guitar. I wanted him and I wanted him now.
"That was . . ." I saw his eyes. Words died.
All the hardness had vanished from his eyes. They were alive and heated from within. "You want me."
"What?"
The magic warmth slid over my shoulders, melting into pure pleasure.
"I feel the feedback." He took a step toward me, grinning. "Nevada, you're a liar."
Uh-oh. I backed up. "What feedback?"
"When I do this . . ." The heated pressure zinged from my back up my ribs. I gasped. Oh dear God. ". . . what you feel loops back to me. I'm partially emphatic."
"You didn't mention that." My heart ~ Ilona Andrews

I can buy your contract." "No, you can't. Any sale of our mortgage requires my consent, and I won't consent to it." He grinned. "You don't want to work under me?" "I'm not even going to dignify that with an answer. ~ Ilona Andrews

What do you do?" Leon leaned forward. "You left the Army and disappeared. How come?"
"Leon," Mother warned.
"Is it because of the war?" Lina asked. "People on Herald say you have PTSD and you became a hermit like a monk because of it."
"Either a hermit or a monk, not both," I corrected out of habit.
"Herald also said he was disfigured." Arabella made big eyes.
"Yes, I'm a hermit. Mostly I brood," Mad Rogan said. "Also I'm very good at wallowing in self-pity. I spend my days steeped in melancholy, looking out the window. Occasionally a single tear quietly rolls down my cheek."
Arabella and Lina snickered in unison.
"Do you also brush a white orchid against your lips?" Arabella put in.
"While sad music plays in the background?" Lina grinned.
"Perhaps," Mad Rogan said.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" Grandma Frida asked.
I put my hand over my face.
"No," Mad Rogan said.
"A boyfriend?" Grandma Frida asked.
"No."
"What about . . ."
"No," Mom and I said in unison.
"But you don't even know what I wanted to ask!"
"No," we said again together.
"Party poopers. ~ Ilona Andrews

My cell phone rang on the table. I never went far without it, even in the house. I picked it up. An unlisted number. Oh goodie.
"Nevada Baylor."
"I need to talk to you," Mad Rogan said into the phone. "Meet me for lunch."
My pulse jumped, my body snapped to attention, and my brain shut down for a second to come to terms with the impact of his voice. I'd slap myself except my mother and grandmother already thought I was nuts, and hurting myself would get me committed for sure.
"Sure, let me get right on that." Hey, my voice still worked. "Should I bring my own chains this time? Or do you have bigger plans, and this is some freaky murder foreplay" - why did the word foreplay just come out of my mouth? - "and I'll end up cut up into small pieces inside some freezer at the end? I can just spray myself with mace and shoot myself in the head now and save you some trouble?"
"Are you done?" he asked.
"Just getting started." I was so brave over the phone.
"Lunch, Ms. Baylor. Concentrate. Pick a place."
"You seem to be under the impression that I work for you and you can give me orders. Let me fix that." I hung up.
Grandma looked at my mom. "Did she just hang up on Mad Rogan?"
"Yes, she did. ~ Ilona Andrews

He fixed me with his Mad Rogan stare. "If you find the connection between Brian's disappearance and the conspiracy, I want to know about it. Not eventually, not when it's convenient, but immediately."
"Yes, sir. I was going to kiss you good night, but now I can't. It's against the rules to fraternize with my superior officer."
"Hilarious," he said. ~ Ilona Andrews

I finally understood why he was called Mad Rogan. It wasn't because he was insane. It was because he drove you nuts with sheer frustration. We ~ Ilona Andrews

He hung up and glanced at me. "I'm sorry, I have to take care of business. It can't wait, but I'll keep it short."
"Not a problem. I'll busy myself with being seen and tossing my hair. Would you like me to twirl it on my finger while biting my lip?"
"Could you?"
"No, sorry." I grinned at him ~ Ilona Andrews

A man had no right to be this fiercely sexual without even trying. ~ Ilona Andrews

You just hung up on my boss," I said.
"He was talking in circles. He'll get over it."
"You know what your problem is? 'You' as in Primes, in general?"
"I think you're about to tell me." Mad Rogan leaned forward with rapt attention.
"Your problem is that nobody ever tells you no. You think you can do whatever you want, enter wherever you want . . ."
"Seduce whoever we want." He grinned, a wicked, wolfish smile.
Oh no, we are not veering off the highway onto that road. "You play with people's lives. When cops show up, you wave your hand and make them go away. Because you are Primes and the rest of us are, apparently, nothing."
"Mhm," he said. "The irony of this is so rich, it's simply delicious."
"I don't see what's so ironic about it."
"I'd tell you, but it would ruin the fun."
"Could you be more smug?"
He leaned on his elbow. "Possibly. I see you liked the flowers."
I got a sudden urge to set the carnations on fire. "They are gorgeous. It's not their fault you brought them. ~ Ilona Andrews

Someone stepped through the garage doorway. I squinted against the light. Mad Rogan.
He wore a dark suit. It fit him like a glove, from the broad shoulders and powerful chest to the flat stomach and long legs. Well. A visit from the dragon. Never good.
He started toward me. The track vehicle on his left slid out of his way, as if pushed aside by an invisible hand. The Humvee on his right slid across the floor. I raised my eyebrows.
He kept coming, his blue eyes clear and fixed on me. I stepped back on pure instinct. My back bumped into the wall.
The multiton hover tank hovered off to the wall. So that was the secret to making it work. You just needed Mad Rogan to move it around.
Rogan closed in and stopped barely two inches from me. Anticipation squirmed through me, turning into a giddy excitement spiced with alarm.
"Hi," I said. "Are you planning on putting all of this back together the way you found it?"
His eyes were so blue. I could look into them forever. He offered me his hand. "Time to go."
"To go where?"
"Wherever you want. Pick a spot on the planet."
Wow. "No."
He leaned forward slightly. We were almost touching. "I gave you a week with your family. Now it's time to go with me. Don't be stubborn, Nevada. That kiss told me everything I needed to know. You and I both understand how this ends."
I shook my head. "How did this encounter go in your head? Did you plan on walking in here, picking me up, and carryin ~ Ilona Andrews

One school of thought says that the best way to handle an issue like this is exposure therapy," Mad Rogan said. "For example, if you're terrified of snakes, repeated handling of them will cure it."
Aha. "I'm not handling your snake. ~ Ilona Andrews

If you keep wiggling, things might get uncomfortable," he said into my ear, his voice like a caress. "I'm doing my best, but thinking about baseball only takes you so far." I froze. ~ Ilona Andrews

He looked like he needed some jungle ruins to explore or some bad people to hit with a chair. Trouble was, he was the bad people. ~ Ilona Andrews

He glanced at me, his eyes dark. "Would you rather talk about your dream?"
"No."
"Considering that I was featured in it, I think I deserve to know the particulars. Were my clothes missing because we were in bed? Was I touching you?" He glanced at me. His voice could've melted the clothes off my body. "Were you touching me? ~ Ilona Andrews

Yes, I'm a hermit. Mostly I brood," Mad Rogan said. "Also, I'm very good at wallowing in self-pity. I spend my days steeped in melancholy, looking out the window. Occasionally a single tear quietly rolls down my cheek. ~ Ilona Andrews

Mad Rogan was walking next to me with that same confident stride that had made me notice him back in the arboretum, and I knew precisely where he was and how much distance separated us. My whole body was focused on him. I wanted him to touch me. I didn't want him touching me. I was waiting for him to touch me. I didn't know what the hell I wanted.
"Did you like the carnations?"
I reached into my pocket and handed him a small red card. "Texas Children's Hospital is grateful to you for your generous donation. Thanks to you, every one of their rooms has beautiful flowers this morning. They think it might be at least partially tax deductible, and if your people talk to their people, the hospital will provide the necessary paperwork."
Mad Rogan took the card, brushing my hand with his warm, dry fingers. The card shot out of his hand and landed in the nearby trash bin. ~ Ilona Andrews

And you're not hurt? Nothing's broken?" "No." "Oh good." Mad Rogan sank a vicious punch into Adam's jaw. Adam fell to his knees, his mouth bloody. "How about now, Adam? Anything hurt now? ~ Ilona Andrews

I . . . uh . . . thinking about the time you got mad at me for . . . trampling that cockroach. Then remembered how you lit into Goodwin with that bat. I found it funny. ~ Karen Witemeyer

And so he would now study perfumes, and the secrets of their manufacture, distilling heavily-scented oils, and burning odorous gums from the East. He saw that there was no mood of the mind that had not its counterpart in the sensuous life, and set himself to discover their true relations, wondering what there was in frankincense that made one mystical, and in ambergris that stirred one's passions, and in violets that woke the memory of dead romances, and in musk that troubled the brain, and in champak that stained the imagination;
and seeking often to elaborate a real psychology of perfumes, and to estimate the several influences of sweet-smelling roots, and scented pollen-laden flower, of aromatic balms, and of dark and fragrant woods, of spikenard that sickens, of hovenia that makes men mad, and of aloes that are said to be able to expel melancholy from the soul. ~ Oscar Wilde

I'm alone. And I'm crying. And no one is coming to the crib. And the nightlight has burned out. And I'm mad. I'm so mad. Left frontal lobe. I ... I ... I don't feel so good. Left occipital lobe. I ... don't remember where ... Left parietal lobe. I ... I ... I can't remember my name,but ... but ... Right temporal ... but I'm still here. Right frontal. I'm still here ... Right occipital.I'm still ... Right parietal. I'm ... Cerebellum. I'm ... Thalamus. I ... Hypothalamus. I ... Hippocampus ... Medulla ... ~ Neal Shusterman

Mr. Thornton," said Margaret, shaking all over with her passion, "go down this instant, if you are not a coward. Go down and face them like a man. Save these poor strangers, whom you have decoyed here. Speak to your workmen as if they were human beings. Speak to them kindly. Don't let the soldiers come in and cut down poor-creatures who are driven mad. I see one there who is. If you have any courage or noble quality in you, go out and speak to them, man to man. ~ Elizabeth Gaskell

You're back and forth with me, with your actions, with your emotions. You act like you don't remember me, then spring on me that you do. You flirt with me and then you stop on a dime. You kiss me and then you pull away as soon as I touch you. You're mad then you're not." I don't stop to take a breath or let him speak before finally raising the hand he's holding and letting it go. "You're holding my hand, then . . ." I trail off, not sure of how to finish that thought. Tearing my gaze from his, I try to rein in my emotions, to wipe the flustered girl up off the floor. ~ Kim Karr

Okay, I'm sorry for not turning up yesterday." His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran to catch up with me. "Don't be mad. Even though you're sexy as hell when you are." He grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop.
"Don't touch me," I shouted. "Just leave me alone. Wherever I go, there you are being creepy and pervy. I'm sick of this, Marshall. And, you know what? I don't give a shit about your secrets. Keep them. I hope they make you feel all warm and snugly at night. ~ C. Gray

Half of the Ullers are half-mad, the saying went, and the other half are worse. ~ George R R Martin

Mineshima Yuujirou created darkness from science.
As a mad scientist, that's as natural as breathing.
People dug up the sealed darkness.
As a human, that's as natural as breathing.
There are many of those who creates and seek the darkness. But those who destroy the darkness are nowhere to be seen. ~ Tooru Hayama

Madness--that's all they have, after working sixteen hours a day, seven days a week. Going mad is their only way of staying sane. ~ J.G. Ballard

You're sort of programmed a certain way because of your environment. That's all you know. But we don't have that anymore because of the internet. Because of the internet we're all communicating with each other all across the board, so you're getting information from people all around the world, hitting a much more diverse slice of culture. ~ Joe Rogan

I always get so overwhelmed trying to do everything perfectly. I can't do a job and not put everything I have into it. I need to be the best employee, the best co-worker, the best whatever. I need everyone to like me and I just burn out bending over backward to make that happen. Having people be mad at me is my worst fear. I can't stand it. There is this crazy fear I have of being rejected by anyone - even people I don't really care about. It's always better to leave them first, cut all ties, and disappear. They can't hurt me that way - no one can. ~ Nic Sheff

My wife gets so jealous. She came home from work and was mad at me because there was a pretty girl on the bus she thought I would have liked. ~ Ray Romano

I was so mad, I reached into the drawer for her fake sushi eraser and put it in my pocket. Serves her right for being such a big, fat, Eggo-scarfing liar. ~ Sarah Darer Littman

By morning, Joscelin was resigned. "You know, betimes I think you are a little mad, Imriel no Montreve," he said to me in the courtyard outside the stable, holding the Bastard's reins.
"You never said that to Phedre," I reminded him.
"Ah, well." He grinned despite himself. "In her case, there is no question. ~ Jacqueline Carey

A couple of months ago, I gave my girlfriend some fancy lingerie, and she actually got mad at me. She said, 'Anthony, I think this is more of a gift for you than it is for me.' And I said, 'If you want to get technical, it was originally a gift for my last girlfriend.' ~ Anthony Jeselnik

America was sleeping when I crept into the hospital wing that night. She was cleaner, but her face still seemed worried, even at rest.
"Hey, Mer," I whispered, rounding her bed. She didn't stir. I didn't dare sit, not even with the excuse of checking on the girl I rescued. I stood in the freshly pressed uniform I would only wear for the few minutes it took to deliver this message.
I reached out to touch her, but then pulled back. I looked into her sleeping face and spoke.
"I - I came to tell you I'm sorry. About today, I mean," I sucked in a deep breath. "I should have run for you. I should have protected you. I didn't, and you could have died."
Her lips pursed and unpursed as she dreamed.
"Honestly, I'm sorry for a lot more than that," I admitted. "I'm sorry I got mad in the tree house. I'm sorry I ever said to send in that stupid form. It's just that I have this idea..." I swallowed. " I have this idea that maybe you were the only one I could made everything right for.
" I couldn't save my dad. I couldn't protect Jemmy. I can barely keep my family afloat, and I just thought that maybe I could give you a shot at a life that would be better than the one that I would have been able to give you. And I convinced myself that was the right way to love you."
I watched her, wishing I had the nerve to confess this while she could argue back with me and tell me how wrong I'd been.
" I don't know if I can undo it, Mer. I don't know if we'll ever ~ Kiera Cass

For him, the Holocaust was a laboratory gone mad, accelerating and intensifying human processes a hundredfold ... ~ David Grossman

When our father does the things he needs to do in the world, we understand it is his due. If our mother does the things she needs to do in the world, we feel she has abandoned us. It is a miracle she survives our mixed messages, written in society's most poisoned ink. It is enough to drive her mad. ~ Deborah Levy

How could you get mad at someone who neither needed to attack nor was at all worried about being able to defend? It was like getting mad at Switzerland. ~ Karl Marlantes

Madmen always think it's the others who are mad. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zafon

You think Diana would come to your bed?" Ned threw his head back and laughed. "You're mad! First of all, she would never break her marriage vows. Secondly, she's certainly deduced by now what a whoremonger you are. She wouldn't touch you with gloves, my friend." from THE DEVIL YOU KNOW (DEVIL DEVERE book #3) ~ Victoria Vane

Why is he so mad about white tiled sinks and 'kitchen machinery' he calls it? People have good hearts whether or not they live like Dharma Bums. ~ Jack Kerouac

First, psychotherapy is an art. It is not a science (the human-beings-are-laboratory-rats mentality of the behaviorist notwithstanding). A friend of mine, a philosopher of esthetics, defines art as: anything that people treat as art. So it is with psychotherapy. Any mad school that springs up and gets people to call it "psychotherapy" then becomes a "psychotherapy." But is it good psychotherapy or just mad? ~ Jack S. Willis

I chop the broccoli into pieces with ZigZag Knife, sometimes I swallow some when Ma's not looking and she says, "Oh, no, where's that big bit gone?" but she's not really mad because raw things make us extra alive. ~ Emma Donoghue

You're just mad because God didn't answer your prayer the way you wanted him to. ~ Susan May Warren

We can't disrupt polling places anymore, ... It doesn't serve any purpose. It just makes people mad. ~ John McCain

His world had slid into the strange, and he could adapt or go mad. ~ Leigh Bardugo

It makes my wife mad, you know, she wants me to stay home all the time. But its what I've done all my life and I think when I quit doing it I'll probably go away pretty quick. ~ Merle Haggard

True love is finding someone whose demons play well with yours" - The Joker ~ The Joker Batman Arkham City

Do you ever miss your mother?"
"I never knew her, so no. But I miss what could've been." He tilted his head. "It's nothing like what you went through, is it now? It was a horrible story, about your brother. How do you get over something like that?"
"You don't."
The stiches on the old wound unraveled within me as I thought about the answer. "I held on to hope that he was alive for almost a year." I wiped my nose and told myself to stop. I'd never even told my counselors that. "I prayed by the hour during these months. I had faith then. And where did that get me? Where was God when my brother died? When my world imploded?" My voice broke and I covered my face. "I have to go." I dashed past Beckett and walked as fast as I could.
With Bob running ahead, Beckett caught up with me in three strides. He reached for my arm and pulled me to a stop. "Wait."
"I should be able this. I know I should. But I'm not." Through my tears, I saw concern staring back at me. And it just added another knot to the dark tangle inside. "I want to be me again-to have faith, to feel hope , to feel...something. Something besides this..." Ugliness. I closed my mouth and just shook my head.
"Hey. It's okay to be mad." Beckett slid his arms around me and enfolded me in a hug. "But you can't give up on your faith. ~ Jenny B. Jones

The mice were furious."
[...]
"Oh yes," said the old man mildly.
"Yes well so I expect were the dogs and cats and duckbilled platypuses, but..."
"Ah, but they hadn't paid for it you see, had they?"
"Look," said Arthur, "would it save you a lot of time if I just gave up and went mad now?"
[...]
"Earthman, the planet you lived on was commissioned, paid for, and run by mice. It was destroyed five minutes before the completion of the purpose for which it was built, and we've got to build another one."
Only one word registered with Arthur.
"Mice?" he said.
"Indeed Earthman."
"Look, sorry - are we talking about the little white furry things with the cheese fixation and women standing on tables screaming in early sixties sit coms?"
Slartibartfast coughed politely.
"[...] These creatures you call mice, you see, they are not quite as they appear. They are merely the protrusion into our dimension of vast hyperintelligent pandimensional beings. The whole business with the cheese and the squeaking is just a front."
The old man paused, and with a sympathetic frown continued.
"They've been experimenting on you, I'm afraid. ~ Douglas Adams

At one point in my 20s, I was about to quit acting. I'd had a crappy couple of years and I was depressed. My mom said, 'Don't give up! You'll be so mad at yourself.' ~ Janel Moloney

At the time I just was like, I can't believe I am on the show, and the first thing I have to do is an entire song and dance routine for the whole cast of 'Mad Men.' ~ Jessica Pare

In the end he said, I am Mercier, alone, ill, in the cold, the wet, old, half mad, no way on, no way back. He eyed briefly, with nostalgia, the ghastly sky, the hideous earth. At your age, he said. Another act. Immaterial ~ Samuel Beckett

And what was most often walled up in cellars, other than mad wives, pregnant nuns, or importunate ex-friends? Valuable objects. ~ Vivian Shaw