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Richelle E. Goodrich Quotes

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Famous Richelle E. Goodrich Quotes

“I slay dragons at night while you sleep. I see by the way your face contorts how they exist in your dreams. Willing a magic sword, I plunge into your deepest nightmares and swing at the beasts with all my might, dodging flames exhaled by monsters that would eat me alive to go on torturing the fair one I love. I see your face relax, eyes still drowsily closed, when the mighty dragon is slain. It may be that my fingers rub soft circles on your forehead as I imagine my brave fight as a knight reclaiming your dreams. You smile under the spell of my touch, and I am rewarded. And so, my love, as I await the dawn, I stand ready to slay dragons while you sleep.”

“Everything in the world that happens to you may be someone else's doing; I'll grant you that. But what you do with it, how you react to it, what you make of yourself in the midst of it all—that's totally you.”

“There are trials in life that feel as tremendous as a quest to slay dragons. These trials are daunting. They require hard work, determination, and courage. But when the dragon is finally slain, the relief is immense.”

“A dragon grows in leaps and bounds, Like troubles mounting by the pound. Its stature heightens day to day, Imposing dread and deep dismay. A paralyzing roar it gains While from its snout hot fire rains. It sees you shrink. Your fear it knows. And by the hour the nightmare grows. Unless you slay the dragon soon, Your troubles may become your doom.”

“Reading... inspires, enlightens, nurtures, refines, educates, informs, transforms, persuades, challenges, engages, entertains, mesmerizes, captivates, gratifies, rewards, quiets, and calms. Granted, it won't get the dishes done, but sacrifices must be made.”

“Though I adore the idea of Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, Sandman, the Tooth Fairy, and such luminary characters—especially their altruism and devotion—I still don't believe in them.  For I know the truth.  Only one such miracle worker exists who performs magic in my life, seeing to my wants and needs without fail.  That queen is my mother.  With unwavering faith I believe in her.”

“We are not born with hard hearts. We are born with soft and tender hearts that, more often than not, are mishandled and consequently broken. The pain is always harsher than expected when each fragment turns to stone. So we pile them high to form a wall of protection around ourselves, determined never to experience such terrible pain again. That is how hearts come to be hardened. Ironically, our refusal to dismantle the wall is how and why we continue to suffer.”

“I let my sword slip to the ground, and for the second time I stood unarmed in the presence of werewolves. Kresh put his lips to my forehead, and my skin burned beneath his kiss. When his hands repositioned to take me by the waist, my breathing—already shallow—ceased entirely. Then his lips fell on mine and I was suddenly everything he claimed me to be—his mate, his wife, his world. The taste of him seemed mysteriously new and old at the same time. Every bit of tension eased as if internally I had come home again, and yet a sense of foreignness made our connection a sweet venture. My breast was afire as he continued to grasp my hips, keeping me close. I burned for him as if vampire venom were coursing through every inch of me. The man was a constellation of suns in my desire, unlike Thaddeus who hardly equaled a speck of stardust. The thought of that coward reminded me of grim news. It took every bit of willpower I possessed to tear my lips away from what they craved, and yet I remained a submissive puddle in this werewolf’s arms.”

“I thought of the words the old witch had used to summon the sword on previous occasions. While stepping backwards with the intent of putting the table between Thaddeus and myself, I voiced the spell aloud. “Grim dettarias, ee Duvalla swen areir!” My trusted weapon appeared from out of nowhere, the hilt grasped tight within my fingers. Without delay, I pointed the tip of the blade at my enemy. “Move away from the door and let me leave this place.” “Oh, Catherine…” “Don’t breathe that wicked name again!” I angrily ordered. Thaddeus closed his mouth, and his eyes scrunched the slightest bit, never shifting from me. “I’ll cut out your tongue if you mutter that awful name one more time,” I threatened. I interpreted his frown as a sign that he believed I would make every effort to carry out that threat.”

“Years of strengthening my independence, perhaps believing on some level that my fate was to be forever solitary, had made me a strong and capable woman. I feared change. But did marriage demand a drastic change in my nature? No. Why should it? Strength of character wasn’t a flaw or an enemy to marital happiness. Yet I feared becoming a different person—a vulnerable, reliant, weaker person. Dompier had insisted change had already occurred in me to some degree. I did in fact feel susceptible emotionally around Thaddeus and yet without a total loss of myself. Is this what love did to people? Disarmed them with lures of peace and happiness? But if peace and happiness and companionship were indeed to be the outcome, why fight it?”

“I swallowed back a wave of concern as her focus jumped from my face to the indigo jewel at my chest. The blue light in the heart of the jewel glowed only faintly. A yank on the braided chain made me lurch forward and I heard Vada cry out in pain. When I looked, the vampiress was cupping her hand as if it hurt. I then understood what happened: she had attempted to grab the enchanted gemstone and it shocked her in the process. I flashed an accusatory glare at Vallatrece. “Do you mean to steal from me?” “Apparently no. It seems the stone has chosen you.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I’m not surprised.” “Well, it’s mine—that I do know. You can’t take it from me. No one can.” “How many have tried?” I refused an answer to the question. My silence was undaunting. “Where did you get that pretty trinket anyway? Who gave it to you?” “No one gave it to me; I found it.” Vallatrece scrunched up her face, communicating that she didn’t believe me. “And now that I have it,” I continued, “I no longer require your services.” “You no longer require my services? Is that so?” Again, her cheeks dimpled with amusement at my words. “Yes, it is so.”

“Have you ever pondered the miracle of popcorn? It starts out as a tiny, little, compact kernel with magic trapped inside that when agitated, bursts to create something marvelously desirable. It’s sort of like those tiny, little thoughts trapped inside an author’s head that―in an excited explosion of words―suddenly become a captivating fairy tale!”

“When someone speaks to you, gripes at you, whines or cries or barks at you, resist the natural tendency to swiftly respond, and instead, listen carefully with the intent to honestly understand. The more you listen to comprehend exactly what the person is trying to communicate, the more you begin to know the individual and his or her concerns. As you grow to know the individual, the easier it is to care. This leads to greater love towards the person. So to restate a truth: the more you listen, the more you understand. The more you understand, the more you care. The more you care, the more you love. And the more you love, the stronger your relationship will be.”

“I dreamed my shoulders held up the sky for a thousand hawks that squawked and cawed and beat their feathered wings against the hotness of the day. I supported their flight, watching and marveling, until sweat dripped from my body, and groans crossed my lips over fatiguing muscles. Choosing to let the sky fall, I awoke. My eyes opened to a cast of hawks gripping me in their talons. They supported my weight, hauling me high above the clouds through a blue expanse of heaven. And though they struggled—squawking and flapping wearily—never once did a single bird release its hold.”

“Love by the sweat of thy brow. Not through whispered words of hollow sound or lofty dreams ne’er substance bound that more than oft do run aground. Nay, love with mighty, blistered hands that turn the soil and carve the land. A bearer of toil and golden band. Be strong! A founder of the feast! Protective knight who slays the beast! For promises and vows aloud are naught but wispy veneer shroud like cobwebs, frail, the airy words and wooing fail. So work, my darling. Toil as proof. Thy loyal heart be drained of youth and yet beat on, incessant sound. Both feet take root within the ground, and service be thy kingly crown. Love by the sweat of thy brow.”