Georgina Kincaid Quotes & Sayings

Ian's the black sheep."
"I thought I was the black sheep," said Seth, sounding almost hurt.
"No. You're the unfocused artistic one. I'm the responsible one. Ian's the wild, hedonistic one."
"What's hedonistic?" asked Kendall.
Her father considered. "It means you run up a lot of credit card bills you can't pay, change jobs a lot, and have a lot of ... lady friends. — Richelle Mead

Wait," he said. "That's not a word."
I looked down to where, in a moment of desperation, I'd played zixic on a triple-word-score space.
"Uh, sure it is."
"What's it mean?"
"It's sort of like ... quixotic, but with more ... "
"Bullshit?"
I laughed out loud. I'd never heard him swear before.
"More zeal. Hence the z."
"Uh-huh. Use it in a sentence."
"Um ... 'You are a zixic writer.'"
"I don't believe this."
"That you're zixic?"
"That you're trying to cheat at Scrabble." He leaned back against my couch, shaking his head. "I mean, I was ready to accept the whole evil thing, but this is kind of extreme. — Richelle Mead

I hope you had an entertaining time following me around." I took my keys out.
"You should be a reality show," he said. "It's that good. And you know, I might be a totally unstable former assassin, but man. You manage to shock even me. — Richelle Mead

You had your heart broken much?"
He paused. "Of course. Everyone does. Part of life."
"Tell me her name. I'll kick her ass. I don't want anyone hurting you."
He rested his face against my hair, his tone even and gentle when he spoke. "You're wondrous and powerful and gifted, but even you can't save me from hurting. No one can do that for anyone. I can make things perfect in the fictions I create, but the real world isn't so kind. That's just how it is. And anyway, for every bad thing in life, there are more good things to tip the balance."
"Like what?"
"Like little blonde nieces. And royalty checks. And you. — Richelle Mead

We all have moments of weakness. It's how we recover from them that really counts. — Richelle Mead

At long last, she gasped out, "It's Seth."
"What happened?" I demanded. "Is he okay?"
"He ended it." Her crying renewed. "He broke the engagement and told me it was over. — Richelle Mead

I was at Peter's fondue party,before that was at the mall. Peter's tell me about Peter's, Did anything weird happen there? I was at a fondue party at a vampires everything about that is weird. — Richelle Mead

You know, you still owe me pancakes. I think I could go for ... apple cinnamon ones now. "
"Apple cinnamon? You sure are demanding."
"It's all right. I think you're man enough for it."
"Thetis, if I actually believed you had either apples or cinnamon in your kitchen, I'd make them for you right now."
I didn't answer. I was pretty sure I had some year-old Apple Jacks, but that was about it. — Richelle Mead

Statistics show that most mortals sell their souls for five reasons: sex, money, power, revenge, and love. In that order. — Richelle Mead

You should make her call you 'Miss Georgina,'" added Hugh with a mocking southern drawl. "Or at least 'ma'am.'"
Niphon's presence and Jerome's lecture had put me in a grouchy mood. "I'm not doing any mentoring. She's so gungho to take on the world's male population, she doesn't even need me."
The three men exchanged more smirks. Cody made some hissing and meowing sounds, scratching at the air.
"This isn't funny," I said.
"Sure it is," said Cody. — Richelle Mead

Love is rarely flawless," Carter pointed out. "Humans delude themselves by thinking it has to be. It is the imperfection that makes love perfect. — Richelle Mead

What were good and evil, really, but stupid categories? Stupid categories
that restricted people and punished or rewarded them based on how they responded to their own natures, natures they really didn't have any way to control. — Richelle Mead

Exactly," said Maddie. "What's your favorite flavor?"
"I bet I can guess," said Simone. "Chocolate."
"Strawberry," said Maddie.
Losers. It was vanilla.
"Vanilla," said Seth. — Richelle Mead

His eyes, I'd long since discovered, could be as eloquent and expressive as his pen. The messages they sent me now hardly seemed decent for a public setting. — Richelle Mead

That's not fair," I said.
"Georgina," he said simply. "We're in Hell. — Richelle Mead

I want pancakes."
"What? Right now?"
"No. For breakfast."
"Oh." He yawned. "You'd better get up early then."
"Me? I'm not going to make them."
"Yeah?" His sleepy voice carried mock sympathy. "Who's going to make them for you then?"
"You are."
"Am I? You think I'm going to make you pancakes? Is that how you think it's going to be?"
"You're so good at," I whined. "Besides, if you do, I'll sit on the counter in a short robe while you cook."
His soft laughter segued into another yawn. "Oh. Well then." He kissed my ear again. "Maybe I'll make you pancakes. — Richelle Mead

I hope I redeemed myself with the whole dancing-sex comparison."
"I suppose there were a couple of notable similarities," I observed, holding a straight face.
"A couple? What about attention to detail, heavy exertion, lots of sweat, and single-minded determinedness to get the job done and done well?"
"Mostly I was thinking you just don't talk during sex." Mean perhaps, but I couldn't resist.
"Well, my mouth has better things to do."
I swallowed, my own mouth dry. "Are we still talking about dancing? — Richelle Mead

Lucky Charms?" I asked.
"Magically delicious," he explained. "Requisite for any sort of building project."
I shook my head, still amazed at how he had managed to weasel his way over here. "This isn't a date."
He cut me a scandalized look. "Obviously. I'd bring Count Chocula for that. — Richelle Mead

Seth told us good night and left.
I watched him go wistfully. Anyone else here feel like swooning? — Richelle Mead

What's wrong?" asked Seth, seeing my frown.
"That new drummer. Alec. He hit on me earlier, and now he's moving in on Casey. I think he's one of those guys who thinks plying girls with liquor is the only way to get laid."
"Wait. I thought I was the only guy who knew that secret. — Richelle Mead

Nah. I'm a consultant, of course. Everyone's favorite nondescript yet well-paid white-collar job. — Richelle Mead

All right, Mortensen, last chance. Are you ready to make the switch from voyeur to exhibitionist?"
He inclined his head toward me curiously. "Are we still talking about dancing?"
"Well, that depends, I suppose. I heard someone once say that men dance the same way they have sex. So, if you want everyone here to think you're the kind of guy who just sits around and - "
He stood up. "Let's dance. — Richelle Mead

Heat burned in his eyes, something a little darker and more intense than our typical bantering called for. "In fact, I'm downright unstoppable now. A god, babe. Come on back to the office, and I'll show you."
I walked away, giving him a taunting look over my shoulder, still playing it light. "Not my religion, babe. — Richelle Mead

When you say 'old friend,' are we talking, like...since the Ice Age?"

"No. Of course not."

"Oh."

"It's only been about four hundred years."

"Ah. Yes. Only four hundred." A wry expression spread over his face. "Being with you is a continual experiment in perspective. Among other things. — Richelle Mead

Dad told Uncle Seth not to screw things up," she informed me as we washed our hands. "He said even if Uncle Seth is famous, him getting a woman like you defies belief."
I laughed and smoothed down the skirt of my dress. "I don't know about that. I don't think your dad gives your uncle enough credit."
Brandy gave me a sage look, worthy of someone much older. "Uncle Seth spent last Valentine's Day at a library. — Richelle Mead

You are the world, Letha.. — Richelle Mead

Is it true? You had a clean getaway and risked it all for me?"
I Swallowed. "It wouldn't have been a clean getaway without you. — Richelle Mead

Look who's calling the cauldron black."
"Kettle. It's a kettle. Get your metaphors right."
"That wasn't a metaphor. It was a, you know ... " He stared off into space, blinking. "One of those things that's symbolic of another thing. But isn't the same thing. Just like it."
"You mean a metaphor?"
"No! It's like a story ... like ... a proverb! That's it."
"I'm pretty sure that wasn't a proverb. Maybe it was an analogy."
"I don't think so. — Richelle Mead

God might work on mysterious ways, but hell worked on efficient ones. — Richelle Mead

Have you ever wanted to put on a Santa suit?"
"I have always wanted to do that," said Carter gravely. — Richelle Mead

Seth's quote from his book:
"And if I only could
I'd make a deal with God and I'd get Him to swap our places"
-"Running up that Hill" by Kate Bush — Richelle Mead

How do you know if a demon is lying? His lips are moving. — Richelle Mead

Things on the essential list: vodka, Nine Inch Nails, a steady supply of mortal men, and an all-purpose bitchy attitude. — Richelle Mead

It was a nephilim."
"A nephi-what?" asked Hugh, startled.
"Isn't that a character on Sesame Street?" Peter spoke up for the first time. — Richelle Mead

It's a Christmas miracle. I had no tree. Now I have a forest. — Richelle Mead

Fucking angels
-Georgina Kincaid in each book — Richelle Mead

Since when do we even play games?"
"Since when don't we play games? Games of life, games of death. Games of love, of hope, of chance, of despair, and of all the myriad wonders in between."
I rolled my eyes at the newcomer. "Hello, Carter. — Richelle Mead

Honestly, half the reason I like you is because you're so ... I don't know. You like life." He looked away from my eyes, amused as his thoughts spun, considering. "You're fearless. Bold. Not afraid to enjoy yourself. You just go out there and do what you want. I like the whirlwind you exist in. I envy it. It's funny, really." He smiled. "I used to think I wanted someone exactly like me, but now I think I'd be bored to death with another version of myself. I'm surprised I don't bore you sometimes."
I gaped. "Are you kidding? You're the most interesting person I know. Aside from Hugh maybe. But then, he installs breast implants and buys souls. That's a hard combination to beat. But he's not nearly as cute. — Richelle Mead

Only now, standing with him, I realized it wouldn't be enough. It would only hurt more now, knowing exactly what I could never have again. I would never make love with Seth again, never have these intimate moments of comfort and rapport. He wasn't mine anymore. He never could be again. — Richelle Mead

I don't suppose there's a Georgina Kincaid Instruction Manual around somewhere to help me avoid these embarrassing blunders in the future."
"We sell them downstairs."
"Oh yeah? Is there a page on how to woo the fair Georgina?"
"Page? Hell, there's a whole chapter."
"Required reading, I'd imagine."
"Definitely. — Richelle Mead

Hey," he replied. "You look beautiful today."
I glanced down and laughed. Along with my limited wardrobe, I was also discovering that not doing laundry decreased my clothing options even further. I was in jeans and a plain black T-shirt today, and my hair had been lucky to get a quick brushing, let alone any real styling. I'd overslept and figured beachcombing didn't require much primping anyway.
"Liar," I said. "I practically rolled out of bed this morning."
"You forget that I've seen you in just about every state imaginable. You don't have to have every detail primped and perfect. You're beautiful even when you're disheveled. Sometimes more so. — Richelle Mead

Seth laughed when he saw me.
"Hey," I said, poking him with my foot, "be nice."
"I think this is the first time I've ever seen you look anything less than ... " He paused, playing with word choice. "Well-planned."
"Why, you silver-tongued romantic devil. That is the look I usually go for. Other women go for sexy or chic or beautiful. But me? Well-planned all the way."
"You know what I mean. Besides, unplanned isn't a bad look for you. Not bad at all."
His voice sounded deliciously low and dangerous, and something ignited between us as we held each other's eyes. — Richelle Mead