Nenia Campbell Quotes

I had a fucking standing ovation going on in my goddamn pants, and it was demanding an encore.

All lines are gray in the dark.

What once was had, forever lost; thy fate is destined, thy love star-crossed.

If a woman defined herself solely by the man she was with - and vice versa - the world would be a very shallow and insipid place, indeed.

So you thought you could shit and eat at the same time. How disgustingly convenient.

All statistics have outliers.

Nobody wants to believe that existence carries on without at least taking a stumble from their departure of this world.

What was it about us, as humans, that drove us to make apologies for beautiful things?

Sometimes evil didn't need an excuse. Sometimes evil just was.

Happiness is such a fragile thing, isn't it? So easily burst, like a bubble blown by a child, and always on the verge of being carried away.

Once a flower is picked it immediately begins to die.

What do you want to do with your life, then?” is often the question I'm asked.

To be honest, I don't know. I really don't.

Mainly because I don't see myself living long enough for that to make much of a difference.

When they figure out how to bottle up orgasms and sell them as a food additive, I'll be first in line.

Knowledge is a rope, and you're weaving a noose out of it. Leave some slack for the enemy.

If you don't feel the same way about him, if you're just leading him on, you need to tell him that. I've seen too many nice guys get shafted because a girl can't get over some jerk.

'Better to have loved and lost,' my ass.

Anyone parroting that little platitude had obviously never lost anyone of consequence.

A woman isn't a whore for wanting pleasure. If it were unnatural, we would not be born with such drives.

Time can be as fluid as water, and never in the way you'd like; it slows down to a standstill when you wish you could get things over with, and rushes by in a blur when you wish things would last.

We always vilify what we don't understand.

Only the cruelest hunters set their traps with terror and trepidation.

Death was not the scariest thing out there; no, the denial of it could be far worse.

Such a dark green, his eyes. They reminded her of the forest, of all the dangers lying dormant behind that verdant cloak of leaves.

She had come into the garden expecting summer roses and had instead been caught in a bank of twisted, thorny, frostbitten vines.

Keep calm. You have the forest in your blood.

Fear could drive one to violence as quickly as anger could.

That's what I fear: being subtracted from myself. Negation. Forced against my will to become a beast.

Books make the best ersatz friendships.

The villains were always ugly in books and movies. Necessarily so, it seemed. Because if they were attractive - if their looks matched their charm and their cunning - they wouldn't only be dangerous.

They would be irresistible.

Maybe that was why the French called orgasms “las petites morts”: because the things that bring us passion tend to slip past our defenses, to creep insidiously into every facet of our consciousnesses and kill us as ruthlessly, and efficiently, as any drug.

You will not mock me - and you will let me finish. I have owned and lost a kingdom, and I have battled death. I have been through all that, and I will not chase after you like some lovesick poet spouting verse. If you wish to call me yours, then you will have to act as if you are mine. On the front of surrender, there is no middle ground.

You want to be free. You also want to be mine. You can't be both.

It's like an itch, isn't it? You can feel it in your throat. You want to scream for me.

In my experience, the romance novels written about BDSM have about as much in common with actual BDSM relationships as a child playing with a jump rope.

Butt holes are like a one-way street; they were made the way they were for a reason.

Humanity is a cage, and our puritanical sensibilities comprise the bars. We are confined by our own reason and intellect, and yet most of us don't even know it.

Why do women always feel they have to settle for less?

They said the shape-shifters fucked with the enthusiasm of animals - if they didn't devour you with the enthusiasm of one first.

A quick and brutal fuck from behind usually served as an effective reminder of where you stood in the pack hierarchy.

Locking eyes with a shape-shifter was aggressive. Very aggressive. One generally didn't do that unless one wanted to fight. Or fuck.

I didn't understand what it was about men - not all men, but a good portion of them - that turned a good, solid “NO” into an “I'm just playing coy; try harder.

You are the playground of which I have free reign.

I am waltzing with death, flirting with him, but he stands there smiling and saying nothing because he does not need to woo or be wooed: he knows he gets us all in the end.

Isn't that just typical. You're either asking for it, or having it forced upon you without your consent. Who decided women always have to be passive in sex?

In some ways blowjobs are better than sex because when you have a mouthful of cock you can't make snide comments.

You don't find the concept of illicit love at all engaging?”

“The concept, maybe. But in literature? That's like ordering a glass of tap water at a bar.

You wanted to see me, Professor?

You think I'm gorgeous?”

“When I look at you, all I can think about are the the different ways I'd like to fuck you.”

“So that's a yes then?” she said shyly.

“No, darlin. It's an I-hope-you-weren't-planning-on-sleeping-alone-tonight.

I can take care of myself,” I said hotly.

“Darlin, you don't even know how to pleasure yourself.

Solus walked over to the young brown-haired man and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, ignoring the look of panic he received in return. "You can call me Solus." His golden eyes trailed meaningfully down the mortal's body before he added, softly, "I've been told it's easier to scream.

Did you think I'd only want you once? Oh, my, you are more naïve than I thought. Why would I go through so much trouble for a mere tryst? Does a man ride a stallion but one time before condemning it to the abattoir?

I want to be your last thought at night, and your first taste at dawn.

Conquest was not satisfying if it began with a surrender.

Death is one lover who cannot be spurned.

Ask yourself what a man without guile might do to your body in the dark.

Fuck your manners."

"You don't have to settle for just my manners.

Out running errands - be back before noon. I made a list of some things I like. Check the ones you're interested in, underline any maybes, and cross off your no's. I'm going to do two of the things on that list to you when I get back - your choice. Surprise me.
-M

I hope you nail the bastard.”

So does he.

Ça va. Nap time is over.

Most creatures run when they sense danger. People grab a six-pack and a folding chair.

She seemed like the kind of woman who would fall in love with the sky.

A geas was a contract with the goddess of Fate. Sometimes one was born indentured, other times it was bestowed upon one as a curse. Because if one did not fulfill the terms of one's geas, one died. It was old magic, the magic of the gods, spoken in the tongues of those who controlled the dragons - and it was supposed to be extinct.

He kissed her, and the magic that had been building up steadily around them exploded, raining down in arcs of silver fire that made her half-remember a prophecy from her dreams.

One by one, they all will die.

Something had been set into motion.

I am the rightful ruler of this world And now that I, too, have awakened, like my dragons, I have come to take back what is mine.

Fire and water, logic and reason - those footholds of reality that you mortals hold so near and dear become like so much mist on the plains of the dreamscape.

I cannot breathe, or see, nor swim,
My darkness is composed of him.

She started life with a number, not a name. Class: S, No. 13295. She has them memorized by rote, though nobody ever calls her that. The Scientists feel foolish addressing her in long, bewildering strings of alphanumerics. They have told her so themselves. To save time, they simply call her “Snow.

Come closer, my dears, let me give you a warning,
Of the fate that befalls those who stay out past morning,
In the darkest hours before the dawn,
When witches roam and demons spawn,
And children die with spirit gone,
Magicked away in the gloaming.

What happened out there?”

“I almost got quarking toasted by a dragon.”

“A dragon,” he repeats, scandalized. “Are you mad? Or have you been skulking around the bars of Barbary XIII?

Everyone needs to escape sometimes, and retreating into somebody else's fantasy isn't nearly as satisfying as slipping into your own.

But fairytales were, at best, dirty mirrors whose warped and pitted surfaces reflected a highly distorted view of the truth, quite different from reality.

Psychological imprisonment was no less uncomfortable than its physical counterpart. In some ways, it was even worse; it provided the illusion of physical freedom, but garnered none of the benefits of it.

We spend much of our lives going about completely blind to reality, and yet we still have the gall to act victimized when it invariably catches up to us.

People rarely ventured outside the realm of their own hurts. They believed their own suffering was obvious to all, but might as well have been wearing blinders for all that they noticed anyone else's.

There's a saying that you can't put a price on a human life, but that saying is a lie because we have. We have, and it's so much lower than you would think. Yes, human life has its price like anything else, and will continue to do so for as long as it doubles as a commodity.

...there was a difference between killing for nourishment and killing for curiosity or sport.

We're so concerned with the idea of what we ought to be that we fail to take into account the things that make us who we really are.

Without ethics, science would be cruelty.

Why did this keep happening? Why her? Perhaps there was some pheromone certain people omitted, perceivable only on a wavelength unique to those individuals who preyed on them.

Subjugation requires vigilance; if you relax your brutality even for a moment, the people you're oppressing will revolt at the first sign of weakness. That's why dictatorial regimes are always a slippery slope of cruelty doomed to end in failure.

All friends have secrets. We're like three-dimensional shapes on paper; we all have hidden sides. And there's some secrets we don't even reveal to ourselves.

You think you're superior to the others, don't you? We'll you're not. In fact you're worse for mistaking basic human decency for moral superiority.

Knowing and doing are two separate things, and don't always sync up in life.

You may have bought my body, you may even have the papers to prove it, but don't fool yourself into thinking for a moment that my heart and mind were included in the purchase.

Power is a fickle mistress, easy to seduce, but even easier to lose. That's how it works. One moment she is your closest confidant, whispering the secrets of the universe into your ear; the next, she is your vilest oppressor - and once her ears close to your plights you are well and truly screwed.

I was supposed to be powerless, and as a result they failed to see that I possessed claws.

Nothing is as deadly as the love of a powerful man.

Men who thought of themselves as gods fell the farthest, and the hardest.

Lisa blamed Twilight, and the preconceived notions about men (especially dangerous men) that it tended to form in the impressionable adolescent mind.

Since when did psychiatry become one big, fat Myspace survey?

I finally understood what could drive kids to show up with guns and shoot up their schools.

Being depressed and suicidal doesn't mean wanting to kill yourself every moment of every day. It may be a fixed obsession, but sometimes it gets relegated to the back of your head. Rather, it means the world takes on the very cut and dry, black and white, unilateral aspect of a flowchart.

It wasn't that she was sad - sadness had very little to do with it, really, considering that most of the time, she felt close to nothing at all. Feeling required nerves, connections, sensory input. The only thing she felt was numb. And tired. Yes, she very frequently felt tired.

You must be a blast on long car rides.”

“Oh, I am. You haven't experienced fun until you try to fuck in the front seat of a Civic.

Boys,” Lindsay agreed, nodding. “What doesn't get lost in translation?”

“Things with the letter X in front of them,” Rachel posited. “Like X-Box. And X-rated movies.

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