Jean K Jean Quotes & Sayings

I let Richard walk out on me. I think he'd have gone anyway, but I just sat on the floor and watched him go. I didn't stand in his way. I figured it was his choice, and you cant hold someone if they don't want to be held. If someone really wants to be free of you, you have to let them go. Well, fuck that, fuck that all to hell. Don't go, Asher, please, don't go. I love the way your hair shines in the light. I love that way you smile when you're not trying to hide or impress anyone. I love your laughter. I love the way your voice can hold sorrow like the taste of rain. I love the way you watch Jean-Claude when he moves through a room, when you don't think anyone's watching, because its exactly the way I watch him. I love your eyes. I love your pain. I love you. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Anita can speak for herself," Richard said.
Jean-Claude's attention flicked back to me. "That is certainly true. But I came to see how the two of you enjoyed the play."
"And pigs fly," I said.
"You don't believe me?"
"Not hardly," I said. — Laurell K. Hamilton

It is true, perhaps, that your beauty is not a flashy beauty, as is Asher's, or Jean-Claude's, or even your Nathaniel's, but it is beauty nonetheless. Perhaps the more precious, for it grows not at the first sight of the eye, but a little more each time one speaks with you or watches you move so commandingly into a situation, or watches the truth in your eyes when you say that you are not beautiful, and I realize that you mean it. That you are not being humble, or playing silly games, you simply do not see yourself."

"See, that's not beauty, that's pretty with a personality that you like."

"But do you not see, Anita, that there is beauty that hits the eye like a bolt of lighting, that burns and sears and blinds. It is more disaster than pleasure. But yours, yours is a beauty that lulls one into comfort, into not protecting one's eyes from the light, then one night you realize that the moon, too, has its beauty. — Laurell K. Hamilton

This had been a bad section of town before the Circus moved in and brought in money, which attracted other businesses. The area had been gentrified not because of some government interference, but by good old-fashioned capitalism, which was one of Jean-Claude's favorite things. — Laurell K. Hamilton

It is the wee hours of the morning, ma petite. The room service menu is somewhat limited. Jason has donated blood twice to me tonight; he needed protein." Jean-Claude smiled. "It was either take-out, or he could eat Larry. I thought you'd prefer take-out. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I gazed up at him as the laughter filled his face, and just loved him. The day had sucked, but Jean-Claude made it suck a lot less, and that was what love was supposed to do. It was supposed to make things better, not worse — Laurell K. Hamilton

Teen uk'al k'iinam. Teen uk'al yah. I drink your ache. I drink your pain. — Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

The anger washed away in the knowledge that I was a hypocrite. I don't know how much of it showed on my face, but Jean-Claude cocked his head to one side. "Thoughts are flying across your face, ma petite, but what thoughts?" I stared up at him. "I think I owe you an apology." His eyes widened. "Then this is a truly historic occasion. What are you apologizing for?" I — Laurell K. Hamilton

Who hit you?"
"Why, so you can go beat him up?"
"One of the fringe benefits of being my human servant is my protection."
"I don't need your protection, Jean-Claude."
"He hurt you."
"And I shoved a gun into his groin and made him tell me everything he knew," I said. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Speaking as one of your minions," Larry called from the back seat, "are you sure you're not the one who's overconfident?" Jean-Claude glanced back at him. "Serephina was centuries old when I met her. The limit of a vampire's powers is well established after two or three centuries. I know her limits, Lawrence." "Stop calling me Lawrence. The name's Larry." Jean-Claude sighed. "You have trained him well." "He came that way," I said. "Pity." Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

sight. So I was still attracted to Jean-Claude. I might even, in some dark corner, love him a little. It didn't matter. Loving the monsters always ends badly for the human. It's a rule. That — Laurell K. Hamilton

got her a can of Coke out of the fridge. "You want a glass?" She shook her head. Jean-Claude was leaning against the wall, staring at me as I moved about the kitchen. "I don't need a glass either," he said softly. "Don't get cute," I said. "Too late," he said. I had to smile. The — Laurell K. Hamilton

There's a laundry list of reasons why not to borrow from your 401(k). While the money is on loan, it's not working for you - and if you leave your job, you'll have to pay it back in 60 days or treat it as a taxable withdrawal. — Jean Chatzky

He laughed, and it raised goose-bumps on my arms. "Oh,ma petite ,ma petite , you are precious."
Just what I wanted to hear. "So how are you getting here?"
"My private jet."
Of course, he had a private jet. "When can you be here?"
"I will be there as soon as I can, my impatient flower."
"I prefer ma petite to flower. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Do you practice the laugh, or is it a natural talent? Naw, I'm betting you practice."
Jean-Claude's face twisted. I couldn't decide if he was trying not to laugh, or not to frown. Maybe both. I affected some people that way.
The laughter seeped out of her face, very human, until only her eyes sparkled. There was nothing funny about the look in those twinkling eyes. It was the sort of look a cat gives a small bird.
Her voice lifted at the end of each word, a Shirley Temple affectation. "You are either very brave, or very stupid."
"You really need at least one dimple to go with the laugh."
Jean-Claude said softly, "I'm betting on stupid. — Laurell K. Hamilton

And I was tired already, tired of the games to come. If Jean-Claude would just let me shoot everyone in Musette's party tonight, it would save a lot of trouble. I just knew it would. I — Laurell K. Hamilton

I walked towards her. Jean-Claude grabbed my arm. "Do not harm her, Anita. She is under our protection."
"I swear to you that I will not lay a finger on her tonight. I just want to tell her something."
He released my arm, slowly, like he wasn't sure it was a good idea. I stepped next to Monica, until our bodies almost touched. I whispered into her face, "If anything happens to Catherine, I will see you dead."
She smirked at me, confident in her protectors. "They will bring me back as one of them."
I felt my head shake, a little to the right, a little to the left, a slow precise movement. "I will cut out your heart." I was still smiling, I couldn'tseem to stop. "Then I will burn it and scatter the ashes in the river. Do you understand me?"
She swallowed audibly. Her health-club tan looked a little green. She nodded, staring at me like I was the bogey man.
I think she believed I'd do it. Peachy keen. I hate to waste a really good threat — Laurell K. Hamilton

Use visual cues to prompt yourself to put away more. A photograph of the beach house where you and your husband can envision spending your retirement will remind you to bump up the contribution to your 401(k); a snapshot of your child in a college sweatshirt can encourage you to put more into a 529 college savings plan. — Jean Chatzky

Eventually, but I chose her for you. I knew what you liked and I shopped with an eye for keeping you, not for satisfying myself, and it worked. It worked better than I could have dreamed. I should have realized that I had set myself up for the two people I loved most in the world to love each other more than they loved me.' Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

Asking Jean-Claude not to be a pain in the ass was like asking rain not to be wet. Why try? — Laurell K. Hamilton

Why is everything always my decision?" I asked.
Because you will not tolerate anything else."
Oh, I remembered now. "Great", I whispered.
- Anita to Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

He threw one long, leather-clad leg over the couch arm and slithered over it to his feet. It was like watching a lap dance without a lap. To my knowledge, Jean-Claude had never stripped at Guilty Pleasures, the vampire strip club he owned, but he could have. He had a way of making even the smallest movement sexual and vaguely obscene. You always felt like he was thinking wicked thoughts, things you couldn't say in mixed company. — Laurell K. Hamilton

They thought I was a vampire, and it had all been an act. I stared at Jean-Claude's smiling face and the matching scars: his chest, my arm. Jean-Claude's hand pulled me down into a bow. As the applause finally began to fade, Jean-Claude whispered, "We need to talk, Anita. Your friend Catherine's life depends on your actions." I met his eyes and said, "I killed the things that gave me this scar." He smiled broadly, showing just a hint of fang. "What a lovely coincidence. So did I. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I did not run to him, but I did wrap my arms around him, press my ear to his chest, hold on to him as if he were the last solid thing in the world. He stroked my hair and murmured to me in French. I understood enough to know he was glad to see me and that he thought I looked beautiful. But beyond that it was just pretty noise.
It wasn't until I felt Zerbrowski behind me that I pulled away, but when Jean-Claude's hand found mine, I welcomed it.
Zerbrowski was looking at me as if he'd never seen me before. "What?" It came out hostile.
"I've never seen you be that ... soft with anyone before."
It startled me. "You've seen me kiss Richard before."
He nodded. "That was lust. This is ... " He shook his head, glancing up at Jean-Claude, then back to me. "He makes you feel safe. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Oui , but if all the men in your life are happy, you are happier, and it makes my life easier.
- Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

There was a time when you would have taken my heart with stake or gun. Now you have taken it with these delicate hands and the scent of your body.
- Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

You are an irritating son of a bitch."
"Ah, ma petite, how can I resist you when you whisper such sweet endearments to me? — Laurell K. Hamilton

I don't like dirty. That's why I hate cigarettes. A little bit of alcohol is O.K., but no drugs. And I like to sleep alone because I wake up, I walk around, I bring my computer with me to bed, I have a great time. — Jean Pigozzi

Jean-Claude gave a low theatrical bow, never taking his eyes from her. After you, my sweet. A lady should always walk before a gentleman, never behind. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I'd had Jean-Claude drive the metaphysical bus before, but I'd never felt it like this, never been so aware of how terribly aware he was of his power, of my power, of the power we all offered him. He was vampire, which meant he was a cold power, a thing of logic, because emotions do not trouble the dead. He shifted through our talents, like Edward would have looked through his gun safe. Which gun will do the job? Which will make this shot? — Laurell K. Hamilton

I'm not sure there are enough white roses in the world to make me forget Richard." I held up my hand before she could interrupt. "But I'm not sure there are enough cozy afternoons in all eternity to make me forget Jean-Claude. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Nothing is certain, ma petite, not even death.
- Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

You smell of other peoples blood, ma petite. It was no one you know. -Jean Claude and Anita — Laurell K. Hamilton

I have lived for over three hundred years. In that time, the ideal of beauty has changed many times. Large breasts, small, thin, curved, tall, short, they have all been the height of beauty at one time or another. But in all that time, ma petite, I have never desired anyone the way I desire you.
- Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

I stared at Jean-Claude still cuddled on the corner of the bed. He looked adorable, and if I'd had a gun, I'd have shot him on the spot. — Laurell K. Hamilton

He's a senior in high school Bernardo. Jean-Claude is his legal guardian and had to enroll him in school. He comes home with homework and shit and then he wants to cuddle and have sex. It weirds me the fuck out. — Laurell K. Hamilton

And the boss isn't . . ." He waggled his hands back and forth. "Ya know, mean." I nodded. I did know. I could bitch and complain about Jean-Claude all I wanted, but compared to most Masters of the City, he was a pussycat. A big, dangerous, carnivorous pussycat, but still, it was an improvement. — Laurell K. Hamilton

If I don't say it enough, Jean-Claude, I love you, I love seeing your face across the table while we eat, and watching you root at Cynric's football games, and watching you read bedtime stories to Matthew when he stays with us, and a thousand surprising things, all of it, its you, and I love you."
"You will make me cry."
"A smart friend told me that it's okay to cry, sometimes you're so happy it spills out your eyes. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Jean-Claude said. I stared at him, and for the first — Laurell K. Hamilton

He ordered food with a childlike glee and watched me eat, tasting it as I did. In private he'd roll on his back like a cat, hands pressed to his mouth as if trying to drain every taste. It was the only thing he did that was cute. He was gorgeous, sensual, but rarely cute.
- Anita Blake about Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

Can you speed this up? I want to get to bed."
A slight frown appeared between his eyes. "Anita, you are not making this easy."
"Hurrah," I said.
The frown smoothed out as he sighed. "You would think I would give up on you ever being easy."
"Yes," I said, "you would."
Anita and Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

Everything is destined to reappear as simulation. Landscapes as photography, woman as the sexual scenario, thoughts as writing, terrorism as fashion and the media, events as television. Things seem only to exist by virtue of this strange destiny. You wonder whether the world itself isn't just here to serve as advertising copy in some other world.' Jean Baudrillard, — Philip K. Dick

Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard, in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive. — J.K. Rowling

I will bathe in your warmth ma petite. Roll you around me until my heart beats only for you. My breath will grow warm from your kiss. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Automate your savings so that you have money taken directly from each paycheck and deposited into a 401(k) or other workplace retirement account. If that's not an option, automatically have money transferred out of checking into savings each time you get paid. — Jean Chatzky

If you're just starting out in the workforce, the very best thing you can do for yourself is to get started in your workplace retirement plan. Contribute enough to grab any matching dollars your employer is offering (a.k.a. the last free money on earth). — Jean Chatzky

Sex was like money in the bank; if you made regular and sizable deposits, you earned more interest. Jean-Claude had earned a lot of interest over the years. — Laurell K. Hamilton

At least I'm not dead.
That can be remedied.
Jean-Claude & Richard — Laurell K. Hamilton

I knew from the moment I heard you, the moment I saw the gun and realized that this lovely, petit woman was the executioner, that you would never die waiting for me to save you - that you would save yourself. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Jesus, are all vampires over two hundred perverts?" "I am over two hundred," Jean-Claude said. "I rest my case. — Laurell K. Hamilton

But you wouldn't be doing me; I don't bottom to anyone,' Nicky said.
'That works for me,' Dev said.
I was no longer certain we were joking.
Nicky grinned. 'If I come across for you then I'll have to fight off Jean-Claude and Asher. I think I'll stay on this side of the heteroflexible divide; it'll make things less complicated. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I have no personal stake in these people, Jean-Claude, but they are people. Good, bad, or indifferent, they are alive, and no one has the right to just arbitrarily snuff them out."
"So it is the sanctity of life you cling to?"
I nodded. "That and the fact that every human being is special. Every death is a loss of something precious and irreplaceable. — Laurell K. Hamilton

He smiled and extended a hand. "I knew you would do it, ma petite."
"You arrogant son of a bitch." I smashed the shotgun butt into his stomach. He doubled over just enough. I hit him in the jaw. He rocked back. "Get out of my mind! — Laurell K. Hamilton

Hello, Jean-Claude," I said. "Greetings, ma petite," he said. His voice was like fur, rich, soft, vaguely obscene, as if just talking to him was something dirty. Maybe it was. "Don't call me ma petite," I said. He smiled slightly, not a hint of fang. "As you like. — Laurell K. Hamilton

She doesn't understand what she's asking, Jean-Claude said.
No, but she asks, and if we do not do it, we will always wonder. I would rather thy and fail than regret having never tried at all. — Laurell K. Hamilton

Richard stood, running his fingers through his thick hair, getting it out of his face, and showing his chest off to good advantage. For the first time, I wondered if he'd done it on purpose. I searched his face for that edge of teasing that Jean-Claude had, that knowledge that even that simple movement touched me. There was nothing. Richard's face was guileless, handsome, empty of ulterior motives. I exchanged glances with Jean-Claude. He shrugged. "If you do not understand him, do not look to me. I am not in love with him." Richard looked puzzled. "Did I miss something? — Laurell K. Hamilton

I am always sincere, ma petite, even when I lie. - Jean Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

I stared at Jean-Claude and it wasn't the beauty of him that made me love him, it was just him. It was love made up of a thousand touches, a million conversations, a trillion shared looks. A love made up of danger shared, enemies conquered, a determination to neither of us would change the other, even if we could. I love Jean-Claude, all of him, because if I took away the Machiavellian plottings, the labyrinth of his mind, it would lessen him, make him someone else. — Laurell K. Hamilton

No 'Good evening, Jean-Claude, how are you doing?' Just down to business. How terribly rude,ma petite .
- Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

Tell me not, sweet, I am unkind," he said, "That from the nunnery, Of they chaste breast and quiet mind."
I looked up at him, and said the next line, "To war and arms I fly."
"True, a new mistress now I chase," he said.
"The first foe in the field," I said, and let him draw me closer.
"And with a stronger faith embrace," he said.
"A sword, a horse, a shield." And the last word was whispered against his chest, still looking up into those eyes, searching his face.
"Yet this inconstancy is such, As thou too shalt adore," he whispered against my hair.
I finished the poem with my face pressed against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, that truly beat with my blood. "I could not love thee, dear, so much, Loved I not honor more. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I want nothing more than to climb between the silk sheets and wrap our nude bodies around one another. I want to hold and be held. Sex is a wondrous thing, but tonight I wish to be comforted more than pleasured. I feel like a child in the dark who knows the monsters are under the bed. I want to be told it will be alright, but I am far too old to believe such comforting lies.
- Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

The black vampire whispered in her ear again. She laughed, so high and clear you could have bottled it. "Do you practice the laugh, or is it natural talent? Naw, I'm betting you practice." Jean-Claude's face twisted. I wasn't sure if he was trying not to laugh, or not to frown. Maybe both. I affected some people that way. The — Laurell K. Hamilton

It wasn't just my beast's hunger, but Jean-Claude's blood thirst and Richard's craving for flesh. It was all that and the ardeur running through all of it, so that one hunger fed into the next in an endless chain, a snake eating it's own tail, an Ouroboros of desires. — Laurell K. Hamilton

I didn't want to hear this. "What the hell are you talking about?" "Necromancer with a chaser of werewolf; a drink to make any vampire giddy." He giggled. Jean-Claude never giggled. I ignored him, if you can ignore an intoxicated vampire. "Jason, can you stand?" "I think so." His voice was thick, heavy but not sleepy, more the languor after sex. Maybe I was glad my bite had hurt. "Larry?" Larry walked over to us, glancing at Magnus, gun naked in his hand. He didn't look happy. "Can we trust him?" "We're going to," I said. "Help me stand up, and let's get out of here before fangface busts a gut." Jean-Claude was doubled over with laughter. He seemed to think "fangface" was outrageously funny. Ye gods. Larry — Laurell K. Hamilton

Say you'll go caving this weekend." The leather coat crinkled and moved as he tried to move closer to me than the seat belt would allow. He could have reached out and touched me. Part of me wanted him to, which was sort of embarrassing all on its own. I started to say no, then realized I wanted to say yes. Which was silly. But I was enjoying sitting in the dark with the smell of leather and cologne. Call it chemistry, instant lust, whatever. I liked Richard. He flipped my switch. It had been a long time since I had liked anybody. Jean-Claude — Laurell K. Hamilton

You're up to something," I said.
He turned, eyes wide, long fingers pressed to his heart. "Moi?"
"Yeah, you, — Laurell K. Hamilton