#thompson

Jim Thompson understood something about the serial killer before the psychology caught up to it, which is that they are detached to it and they do want to get caught. ↗

— Val Kilmer

#before #caught #detached #get #jim

I kissed her, a long hard kiss. Because baby didn't know it, but baby was dead, and in a way I couldn't have loved her more. ↗

— Jim Thompson

#suspense #thompson #love

You are a sick, sick man,” I told him. “Thank you,” Ben replied, looking modest. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#humor #mercy-thompson #sarcasm #silver-borne #humor

Coffee or orange juice?” “Water is fine.” His eyebrows went up. “Uh-oh,” Auriele said, but she was smiling. Darryl was not. “Are you implying that my coffee is not the best in four counties? Or my fresh-squeezed orange juice is less than perfect? ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#breakfast #darryl #humor #mercy-thompson #silver-borne

Adam has always had . . . heroic tendencies.” I touched Adam’s arm. “He’s my hero.” There was another pause. . . “That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Bran said. “Be careful, Adam, or you’ll turn her into a real girl.” Adam looked at me. “I like her just the way she is, Bran.” And he meant it, greasy overalls, broken fingernails, and all. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#bran-cornick #hero #humor #love #mercy-thompson

There was never any peace. There were never any quiet, family moments. They were always working. All of them, all the time. For some reason Michael saw an image of the sitting room at the house in Yorkshire. The TV was on, but there was no one watching it. The terrier was polishing off a plate of dinner that had been abandoned on the arm of the couch. That was the way their lives were. They hadn't sat down to a meal once since they arrived in Scotland. They were a dealer's yard, not a family. ↗

— Kate Thompson

#kate-thompson #family

And he has tried to swim that stream, And he swam on both strong and steady, But the river was wide and strength did fail, And never more he'll see his Annie. And woe betide the willow wan, And woe betide the bush and briar, For they broke beneath her true love's hand, When strength did fail and limbs did tire. ↗

— Kate Thompson

#kate-thompson #love

to whatever extent the Hell’s Angels may or may be latent sadomasochists or repressed homosexuals is to me--after nearly a year in the constant company of outlaw motorcyclists--almost entirely irrelevant. There are literary critics who insist that Ernest Hemingway was a tortured queer and that Mark Twain was haunted to the end of his days by a penchant for interracial buggery. It is a good way to stir up a tempest in the academic quarterlies, but it won’t change a word of what either man wrote, nor alter the impact of their work on the world they were writing about. Perhaps Manolete was a hoof fetishist, or suffered from terrible hemorrhoids as a result of long nights in Spanish horn parlors…but he was a great matador, and it is hard to see how any amount of Freudian theorizing can have the slightest effect on the reality of the thing he did best. ↗

— Hunter S. Thompson

#hunter-thompson #change

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. ↗

— Patricia Briggs

#frost-burned #humor #jesse-hauptman #mercy-thompson #samuel-cornick

I noticed that you take your anger out on your guitar," I said finally. "Like, when i ate a bowl of your cereal, you went in your room and started playing like you were in Metallica or something." "Actually, it was Alice Cooper. ↗

— Alicia Thompson

#psych-major-syndrome #anger