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"Why do you suppose I'm here? I asked him. Angel. A thirteen-year-old departed gangbanger. "Just 'cause you're supposed to be, I guess."
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"Thought, if I may put it, is the man behind the possession, appearance, things we like, things we hate and the very epitome of life."
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"A philosopher once asked, "Are we human because we gaze at the stars, or do we gaze at them because we are human?" Pointless, really..."Do the stars gaze back?" Now, that's a question."
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Explore more quotes by Darynda Jones
"Why do you suppose I'm here? I asked him. Angel. A thirteen-year-old departed gangbanger. "Just 'cause you're supposed to be, I guess."
"I essentially killed those men. Am I slated for hell?"He stepped to me. Put his fingers underneath my chin. Raised it until our gazes locked. "You're a god, Dutch. And the reaper. You don't get slated. You are the slate."
"WHILE writing, just try to have fun with your ms. Enjoy the process, but push on. Always push toward the finish line!"
"I do not," I felt oddly appalled by her statement. "I'm an excellent liar. Ask my dentist. He swears I floss regularly."
"Does he ever eat cotton candy for breakfast?"He stepped around the counter to face us, lowered his gaze, and took a sip from the black mug in his hands."No," I said. "He's very much like the Big Bad Wolf. He eats little girls for breakfast."He spoke from behind the cup, his voice deep and as smooth as butterscotch. "She's wrong. I eat big girls for breakfast."
"There's another part, an obstinate part, that wants more. That wants Dutch live and in the flesh. That wants her hand. Her mouth. Her hips under mine. It wants all of her. Every last ounce. Body and soul."
"There is a light at the end of the tunnel. A finished manuscript is AWESOME! So go, go, go! waves pompoms."
"We're going down to the Margarita Grill to smell the lobster, then we're going to watch the sunrise, and in between we'll probably have hot, unsafe animal sex."
"Bye-bye. Nice knowing you. But if you are waiting for that perfect idea to strike like lightning during a dust storm (I live in New Mexico), you could be waiting a long time. Ideas are everywhere. EVERYWHERE. I can't walk to the bathroom without being hit with another idea. It's what you DO with that idea that matters. Here is your mantra: BICHOK, BICHOK, BICHOKTranslation: Butt in chair, hands on keys. Just write. Every stinking day."
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