“Hell's a-coming and we all gotta learn to play the blues. (347)”
― Jonathan Maberry, quote from Ghost Road Blues
“When Tony lost it, it would be up to Ruger to take Lady Death by the tits and giver a good tweak. That's how he saw it. Give Lady Death's tits a good tweak.”
― Jonathan Maberry, quote from Ghost Road Blues
“Evil never dies. It merely waits. And it grows stronger in the dark.”
― Jonathan Maberry, quote from Ghost Road Blues
“The thunder growled loud enough to wake the storm.”
― Jonathan Maberry, quote from Ghost Road Blues
“but some people don’t care as much about pain. They know it, they’re used to it; it may not be an old friend, but it is an old companion.”
― Jonathan Maberry, quote from Ghost Road Blues
“Evil don’t die. It just waits.”
― Jonathan Maberry, quote from Ghost Road Blues
Jonathan Maberry
Born place: in Philadelphia
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“Could you please explain to me exactly what the staff is that you carry?"
Cronus proudly held the symbol of his power and authority aloft. "It is the scepter that denotes my control of the Physical Realms. All who defy me should look on it and tremble."
"Oh, I see! Do you know, I thought it was a giant toothpick, or perhaps something you shoved into other parts of you anatomy. I never realized it represented your supposed right to rule," said Her Vampiric Majesty lightly.”
― Stuart Hill, quote from The Last Battle of the Icemark
“It is only a barbarous mind that sees other than the flower, merely an animal mind that dreams of other than the moon.”
― Matsuo Bashō, quote from Backroads to Far Towns: Basho's Travel Journal
“Frederick?
Had she really spoken? Certainly she'd tried, but her voice had failed to materialize and all she heard was the sound of her nightgown ripping as Frederick pulled it over her head and threw it aside.
He was kneeling now between her ankles, pushing at her, forcing her knees apart and then her arms until she was entirely splayed on the bed beneath him.
Nothing was said. Not a word.
Ede felt his hand between her legs, forcing the way for the rest of him. Stop, she wanted to tell him. Stop. I don't understand what you're doing. But nothing - still nothing was said.
He seemed to be raging inside her, moving his hips in a circular fashion, all the weight of his upper body help above her, resting on his arms, his hands pushing down into the mattress.
Stop! But he didn't.
Don't! But he did.
Nothing. Not one word.
The only sound he made was a choking noise in his throat at the end, as tough he might be going to strangle. But when he rolled away from her onto his back, she felt the shudder of his first free breath and she heard him sigh. It was over. Tonight. It was done.
Ede could not bare the thought of seeing him, or of being seen. Still without speaking, she rose from the bed and through the dark, found her way to the bathroom. She had brought the torn nightgown wit her, but when she turned on the light and saw it, she threw it down in the corner. Ruined. Spoiled. Everything.
When at last, she returned to the bed, Fredrick was sound asleep beneath the covers - and nothing - nothing - nothing was said.”
― Timothy Findley, quote from The Piano Man's Daughter
“Круг се поддаде на нежния топъл напор на сълзите, с присъщата за това действие наслада. Чувството не облекчение не продължи дълго, защото едва им бе разрешил да потекат, и те рукнаха, безмилостно горещи и обилни, замъглиха очите му и го задавиха. Обгърнат от спазматична мъгла, той вървеше по павираната „Обожемой Лейн“ към брега. Опита да се поизкашля, но това само предизвика нов конвулсивен пристъп на сълзи. Вече съжаляваше, че се бе поддал на изкушението, защото не можеше да върне назад своето отстъпление и треперещият човек в него бе залят от сълзи. Както обикновено, той различаваше треперещия от наблюдателя: гледащ със загриженост, със съчувствие, с въздишка или с вежливо удивление. Това бе последното убежище на ненавистния му дуализъм. Корен квадратен от Аз е равен на Аз. Бележки под линия, незабравки. От някакъв абстрактен бряг другоземецът спокойна наблюдава течението на местната скръб. Позната фигура, макар анонимна и отчуждена. Той видя, че хлипам, когато бях десетгодишен, и ме отведе до едно огледало в някаква необитаема стая (с празна клетка за папагал в ъгъла), за да разгледам внимателно своето размиващо се лице. Повдигнал вежди, той слушаше как говоря неща, които изобщо нямах право да говоря. Във всяка от маските, които изпробвах, имаше прорези за неговите очи. Дори в миговете, когато бивах разтърсван от конвулсии, най-високо ценени от мъжа. Моят спасител. Моят свидетел. И Круг бръкна в джоба за кърпичката си, неясно бяло петно някъде в глъбините на неговата лична нощ. Измъквайки се най-после от лабиринта на джобовете, той попи и изтри тъмното небе и обезформените къщи, и видя, че наближава моста.”
― Vladimir Nabokov, quote from Bend Sinister
“didn't think of it.” She supposed she should have”
― Iris Johansen, quote from The Killing Game
The V Girl
The Maze of Bones
Written in Red
My Side of the Mount...
Defending Jacob
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