Quotes by Karina Halle

To the thing that hurts you most. To the paranormal and to never being normal.

Not that it was a crazy complicated skill, but operating an espresso machine during high traffic could be added to my repertoire along with card tricks and how to fire a Colt .45.(Quote taken from ARC, subject to change)

Love isnt a choice. I cant control how I feel about him any more than I can control the sun in the sky. But what I can do is control what I do with those feelings.

My mother is quite the character. Youd hate her. Sometimes I think I hate her too, but mainly I feel sorry for her. Which is kind of worse.

Im great at lying to myself.

Look, I dont know who has been telling you over the years that you arent worthy of love and happiness, but theyre idiots. We all deserve it. And if people get hurt along the way, thats life. Weve all been hurt. Doesnt that make love more crucial to our lives?

You’re saying we can write our own destiny,” I said, feeling too jaded and stubborn in the moment to believe it. “I am saying,” he said carefully, “that this is not the end of the story. Not the way I am writing it.

The saying goes, if you love something, let it go. I always though it was better to just shoot the damn thing so itd never go anywhere.

We were vicious and violent but elegant and discreet. There was a dance to all of this, one that kept all things flowing in the right direction, a circle that ensured the smartest and brightest would stay on top, not the man with the most guns and the smallest dick.

I slowly, deliberately began to work the blade into his throat. He squirmed and kicked and fought agains tme, but in his current state, I was stronger. His will to live was pathetic, just like he was. Eventually he stopped kicking. I kept cutting. When I was finally done, I was covered in sweat and only a few drops of blood on my shoes and pants. Theyd come out in a good wash.I put his head into the garbage and pulled the bag out, making a knot at the end. I hoped it wouldnt leak through. Then I looked around the office. It was a mess before I came in, piles of paper and empty beer bottles scattered around. The addition of his blood and a headless corpse was barely noticeable.

And what is I was only supposed to burn for a certain amount of time? I whispered. What if I was only meant to shine for a while?Then you truly dont know what stars are meant to do.I looked at him in wonder.They are meant to give us hope in the face of infinity.

I’m pretty sure there are some things in the dark that we’re not meant to see.

I have to live with my mistakes, but I don’t have to regret them. I regret my actions but I can’t regret the consequences. We all make our own paths in life. Everyone we meet, everything we do, it changes us. It makes us who we are. And, if we’re lucky, we’re given the chance to make things right again.

Hell isn’t fire and brimstone. It’s New York City.

People say things are going to be Hell without even the slightest notion of what Hell is.

They say you’re only as old as you feel but try telling that to a ninety-year-old on their deathbed, just wishing he could do all the bloody things he wants to do.

We barely made it inside her room before I pressed her up against the closed door and kissed her until she couldnt breathe, until I couldnt breathe-but who needed air when you had a silken tongue and warm lips and a body that begged to be licked, pinched, stroked.

At the mention of her name, my heart started beating faster. Dawn. Rusty. My muse.

But for many writers, and to borrow a popular cliché, it’s like getting blood from a stone. You have the want and the desire, but with experience and time, your self-doubt becomes louder and your inner critic comes out to play. It silences your creativity. You feel you aren’t allowed to make mistakes.

To rise from the ashes only to have them rain on you from above.