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Quote by Patricia Briggs

“Kelly looked at the cop, then sighed. “What a cluster. I take it you haven’t been killing young women and leaving their half-eaten bodies in the desert?” Adam was ticked. I could tell it even if he was looking like a reasonably calm businessman. Adam’s temper was the reason he wasn’t one of Bran’s werewolf poster boys. When angered, he often gave in to impulses he wouldn’t otherwise have given in to. “Sorry to disappoint you,” Adam told Kelly in silky tones. “But I prefer rabbits. Humans taste like pork.” And then he smiled. Kelly took an involuntary step backward. Tony gave Adam a sharp look. “Let’s not make things worse, if we can help it, gentlemen.”

Book:Silver Borne

Work

Silver Borne

In this fantasy novel, the protagonist embarks on a perilous journey through a world rich in magic and mystery. Along the way, they encounter various challenges and must rely on their wits and abilities to overcome them. more

Author

Patricia Briggs

Patricia Briggs is an American author known for her works in the fantasy and science fiction genres. Born in 1965, she began publishing her works in 1993. Briggs' novels are celebrated for their complex characters and engaging plots. more

“Into the breach, then. Against mobs of middle-aged moms and frightening harridans we shall prevail.” She nodded sharply, raising an invisible sword. “And damned be he—she—who cries, ‘Hold, enough!’” “Misquote Shakespeare in front of Samuel, I dare you,” I told her, and she laughed.”

Humor Shakespeare Mercy Thompson Black Friday Frost Burned Samuel Cornick Jesse Hauptman

Book:Frost Burned

Source: Frost Burned

“Your entire sense of self-worth is predicated upon your belief that you matter, that you matter to the universe. But you don't. Because we are the ants.”

Life Universe We Are The Ants

Book:We Are the Ants

Source: We Are the Ants

“People's emotions are not for profits.”

Motivational Emotions Encouragement Mitta Xinindlu Self Protection Ethics And Moral Philosophy Wisdon Profits And Gains

Author:Mitta Xinindlu

“Hey, Zee,” I said. “I take it that you can fix it, but it’ll be miserable, and you’d rather haul it to the dump and start from scratch.” “Piece of junk,” groused Zee. “What’s not rusted to pieces is bent. If you took all the good parts and put them in a pile, you could carry them out in your pocket.” There was a little pause. “Even if you only had a small pocket.” I patted the car. “Don’t you listen to him,” I whispered to it. “You’ll be out of here and back on the road in no time.” Zee propelled himself all the way under the car so his head stuck out by my feet. “Don’t you promise something you can’t deliver,” he snarled. I raised my eyebrows, and said in dulcet tones, “Are you telling me you can’t fix it? I’m sorry. I distinctly remember you saying that there is nothing you can’t fix. I must have been mistaken, and it was someone else wearing your mouth.” He gave a growl that would have done Sam credit, and pushed himself back under again, muttering,“Deine Mutter war ein Cola-Automat!” “Her mama might have been a pop machine,” I said, responding to one of the remarks I understood even at full Zee-speed. “Your mama . . .” sounds the same in a number of languages. “But she was a beauty in her day.” I grinned at Gabriel. “We women have to stick together.”