Cate Tiernan (born July 24, 1961) is the pen name of Gabrielle Charbonnet, an American author.
What would it be like to care so little about what other people thought of you?
I was of the “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, then wonder why life didn’t give you freaking sugar so you could drink the stuff” school of thought.
Being good is something that one must choose over and over again, every day, throughout the day, for the rest of one’s life.
Stay here!" he commanded me, then he raced off after Cal. I stopped for just a moment. Then I ran after them.
I don't love you. But I see the value of you, the incredible worth of you, more than anyone I've ever known.
Years from now I'll look back and remember today as the day I met him. I'll look back and remember the exact moment my life began to include him. I will remember it forever.
Then what's the point of trying if you can't even win?" "You win in lots of different ways," Asher said. "Lots of little wins. The point of this life is not to be good all the time. It's to be as good as you can. No one is perfect. No one does it right all the time. That's not what life is.
My sister thought about it for a few moments. "Well, that's boring," she said finally. "Why can't you read porn of something fun that I could borrow?" I laughed. "Maybe later.
I felt an overwhelming gratitude in my life right now and wanted a chance to acknowledge it. I felt that any thanks given to any god all went to the same place, anyway, no matter what religion you were centered in.
Fire is a fragile lover, court her well, neglect her not; her faith is like a misty smoke, her anger is destructive hot.
There is darkness in light, there is pain in joy, and there are thorns on the rose.
David held up his hands. "Hold it. This is going nowhere. You two are both afraid, and being afraid makes you angry, and being angry makes you lash out. " "Thank you, Dr. Laura," I said snippily. "I'm not afraid of her," Hunter said, like a six-year-old, and I wanted to kick him under the table. Now that I knew he was actually alive, I remembered just how unpleasant he was.
No, officer, I have no idea why I'm wearing this possum costume. I called you what? OH. My bad. " -Nastasya
Of course, when we got home, we found that Dagda had peed on my down comforter. He had also eaten part of Mom's maidenhair fern and barfed it up on the carpet. Then he had apparently worked himself into a frenzy sharpening his ting by amazingly effective claws on the armrest of my dad's favorite chair. Now he was asleep on a pillow, curled up like a fuzzy little snail. "God, he's so cute," I said, shaking my head.
You're not honey. Your'e wine. You're the deepest, darkest shadow under a tree on a blazing day. You're strong and hard, coursing like a current at the bottom of a river.
You went to all that trouble just for my body?" I said, amazed and so grateful. Reyn looked up, irritation on his face. "Yeah. We were going to have you stuffed, as an example to future students. " I grinned, "You could put me on wheels, move me from room to room.
But I also meant that loving someone really opening your heart to them is just asking to have your heart smashed and handed back to you in little pieces.
I'd once read somewhere that is takes about half as long to recover from a deep relationship as the relationship lasted.
Over my dead body, I thought. Yes, even immortals use that phrase. It has extra oomph for us.
I didn't know where this stuff was coming from - all of a sudden I was a little magickal sprite, bonding with my stone, feeling my earth roots, la la la. . . All I can is describe the way it felt. And that was how it felt. So sue me. Was I swaying? I felt like I might be swaying.