Quotes by Karina Halle

We are forever surrounded by ash. But we are fire. And fire rises.

Writing is hard…It gets harder when it becomes your career, your job, because it’s no longer a hobby, it’s no longer a manuscript hidden in your desk drawer. It becomes a platform from which the world can judge you. Your soul becomes target practice, and the critics hold the arrows.

I looked like a hipster who broke his arm at a Vampire Weekend concert or some shit like that.

It doesn’t really matter in the end. Most people I talk to don’t take writing seriously. If I tell them I’m an aspiring author, they get that “yeah right” look on their face, which is usually followed by “good luck with that.

That’s what all art is for. Your creations can become anything to anyone. I’ve realized there’s nothing wrong with letting people escape for a few hours. Plus you should hear about all the sex lives I’m saving.

I’ve seen him before you know. In real life.” “What? When?” I catch a twinge of hurt in her voice for not filling her in on it earlier. “When I was at Sephora,” I tell her. “So he’s a metrosexual ghost as well?” Dex asks.

I never realized how much I loved life until I knew it was being taken away.

Sometimes… we have a war in our hearts. We’re torn in two directions. The way we feel and the way we should feel. They rarely align. The battle goes on.

Heartache is so physically real that it needs to be recognized as a sickness, an ailment, a cancer of love. A broken heart is a sad, angry, powerful thing that shakes you by the collar and demands your respect, and its pummeling me into the mattress, shattering me to pieces. Its as real as the actual heart in my chest. In some ways, its more real because it flows throughout your whole body, wrapping around your bones and your organs and your blood. Its in everything you do, every breath you take.

His mouth was a little too wide and snaked from corner to corner. His nose had been broken a few times, and when you looked at him straight on like I was doing as I stared at him across the circle bar, you could really tell. But his eyes were beautiful, cunning and otherworldly. His hair was a controlled mess; wispy dark strands that swooped across his forehead with long sideburns. He had high cheekbones, a strong jawline. When you combined all the parts, they equaled so much more than the sum. He was exotically, dangerously beautiful. Hed been mine once. Hed broken my heart once. And he was here to kill me. He only needed to do that once, too.

God didnt create monsters. Monsters created themselves.

“I feel like I’m a disappointment to mankind,” he remarked woefully as he placed the shirt through my arms and began to pull it down over my breasts. “Someone this gorgeous should be on display in a museum.”

“No matter what happened, he was Dex and I was Perry and that combination only led to trouble.”