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"C'est moi, c'est moi,'tis I,' I told him. It seemed appropriately melodramatic, though I didn't know if he'd catch the reference. I shouldn't have worried. Unexpectedly, he laughed. "Trust you to quote Lancelot rather than Guinevere."
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"And she never could remember and ever since that day what Lucy means by a good story is a story which reminds her of the forgotten story in the Magician's Book."
"It is usually unbearably painful to read a book by an author who knows way less than you do, unless the book is a novel."
"Good characters in fiction are the very devil. Not only because most authors have too little material to make them of, but because we as readers have a strong subconscious wish to find them incredible."
"I don't know where people got the idea that characters in books are supposed to be likable. Books are not in the business of creating merely likeable characters with whom you can have some simple identification with. Books are in the business of creating great stories that make you're brain go ahhbdgbdmerhbergurhbudgerbudbaaarr."
"Which is my favourite author??You have mistake it must be authors I have a lot of favourite authors, which is my book, opps again a mistake, it must be books..."
"Tell me of your Willoughbys, Heathcliffs and Wickhams in literature and I will tell you I met them all."
"There are books which take rank in our life with parents and lovers and passionate experiences, so medicinal, so stringent, so revolutionary, so authoritative."
"I am not sure that the best way to make a boy love the English poets might not be forbid him to read them and then make sure that he had plenty of opportunities to disobey you."
"I read to know the past, I write to express my love for the future."
"I appreciate a book intended to be judged by its cover. The insincere readers are often weeded out while the sincere readers remain curious."
Explore more quotes by Patricia Briggs
"Reluctantly, I pulled out my necklace and showed it to them.Samuel frowned. The little figure was stylized; I suppose he couldn't tell what it was at first."A dog?" asked Zee, staring at my necklace."A lamb," I said defensively, tucking it safely back under my shirt. "Because one of Christ's names is 'The Lamb of God.'"Samuel's shoulders shook slightly. "I can see it now, Mercy holding a roomful of vampire at bay with her glowing sheep."I gave his shoulder a hard push, aware of the heat climbing to my cheeks, but it didn't help. He sang in a soft taunting voice, "Mercy had a little lamb..."
"Then Walter died as he lived, he told his mate. A hero, a soldier, and a survivor who chose to protect what was precious to him. I don't think, if you could ask him, that he would have any regrets."
"Cheeses crusty, got all musty, got damp on the stone of a peach, I agreed. He looked blank, so I repeated it with proper emphasis. " ChEEZ-zes crusty. Got Al -musty. Got DAMp on the StoneofapeaCH."
"He stepped back with exaggerated courtesy. But when I walked past him, he swatted my rump. Hard enough to sting."You need to be more careful, he growled. "Keep interfering in my business and you might get hurt.I said sweetly as I continued to Jesse's room, "The last man who swatted me like that is rotting in his grave."I have no doubt about it. His voice was more satisfied then contrite."
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