“What do you mean?” Leslie’s voice was cool, as if she questioned witches who were flat on their backs being threatened by werewolves every day.”
―
Patricia Briggs,
Fair Game
“The moon was obscured by heavy clouds. January was already past the mid-mark and the early delta spring would soon be on them. Already on the night was the faint, fresh smell of buddings and the intimacy that comes from the warm delta air trapped between slumbering earth and lowering clouds.” ― Leslie H. Whitten Jr., Moon of the Wolf
“People are bundles of pain and fear, each wearing their own brand of misery,” he continued. “Trust me, I know. When they’re at the end of their rope, they come here, with their stories.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“It was still early morning when Tess landed at O’Hare, bringing her the ultimate enjoyment of driving through Chicago’s infamous, rush-hour traffic.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“Most people wouldn’t be caught dead in the heart of the Florida Everglades at dusk. A treacherous land of myriad insects and predators, it kept visitors away effectively. Blood-seeking insects don’t even matter for the accidental visitor, more concerned with the few but deadly poisonous snake species, the huge pythons, and the 10-foot alligators. Here, in the Glades, only the skilled and the irresponsible venture, and the latter don’t usually make it out. Matthew” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“Os ricos vivem num mundo diferente, mas matam e morrem como os restantes de nós.” ― Leslie Wolfe
“We don’t welcome death; we covet the discontinuation of life’s agonizing sorrow.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Stories Untold
“The odor of burning sulphur shifted on the night air, acrid, a little foul. Somewhere, the Canaan dwellers had learned of a supplier of castor - an extract from the beaver's perineal glands. Little packets containing the brown-orange mass of dried animal matter arrived from Detroit at the Post Office's "general delivery." At home, by the kerosene light, the recipients unwrapped the packets. A poor relative sometimes would be given some of the fibrous gland, bitter and smelling slightly like strong human sweat, and the rest would go into a Mason jar. Each night, as prescribed by old Burrifous through his oracle, Ronnie, a litt1e would be mixed with clear spring water. And as it gave the water a creamy, rusty look, the owner would sigh with awe and fear. The creature, wolf or man, became more real through the very specific which was to vanquish him.” ― Leslie H. Whitten Jr., Moon of the Wolf
“There are a few other things. Weesee, when she used that word, Loup-garou, was right, at least in a sense. The word means werewolf.' Whitaker protested with a gasp of astonishment.'They don't exist,' he said sharply, jolted by a memory of old movies. The doctor replied quickly:'No, of course not. Not that way, not like some monster, a vampire or some such' 'What's the matter with him?' The doctor spoke softly, unwilling to stop until he had talked out the whole scope of the problem.'It is a type of encephalitis. Uncommon, but there, as solidly classified in medical literature as measles. Late effects of acute infectious encephalitis, lycanthropy, to be exact. Once it was called a form of monomania. Morbus lupinus is another name.' 'You will have to hunt him down. Then he will have to be kept in a cell, for a long time, under strong drugs, probably until he dies.' De Glew touched his throat, cleared it slightly. 'The alternative is that you hunt him down and kill him. He will kill, Aaron.' 'Won't it pass?' asked Whitaker incredulously. 'I don't think so, not permanently. And pass for how long? Suppose he is only mad one day out of four.' The doctor paused. 'Or when the moon is full. Or when he sees it full in his mind's eye.” ― Leslie H. Whitten Jr., Moon of the Wolf
“What I want is clear, since the day I killed Watson. Since that exhilarating moment fifteen years ago, I’ve known exactly who I am, or at least I started to discover. I’m a predator, a deadly one. A skilled hunter with sharp instincts and a fearless heart. One kill, and I was hooked for life. I live for the thrill of the kill, anticipating whom I will choose next, how I will do it, planning every little detail over and over in my head. Counting the minutes until the day of the feast.” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Watson Girl
“It is important that we actively work, as a nation, to improve the standard of living in other countries, but not beyond the point where we stop being able to maintain our own. If we continue to do that, we will soon lose the ability to help anyone, including ourselves. However, we can improve the standard of living in those areas in many different ways. We could share knowledge, innovation, healthcare advances, and best practices. We could make targeted infusions of capital and investment to the local economies.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Devil's Move
“We always assume we have time. There’s never any time. Every day we’re alive is borrowed against the unforeseen.” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Surgeon
“That’s how love dies, buried among recycle bin duty, folding lingerie, dishwasher cycles, and grocery shopping. PTA meetings, play dates, double shifts in the ER, taking a screaming kid to the dentist,” ― Leslie Wolfe, Glimpse of Death
“Time could be a son of a bitch when it wanted to.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“morning” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Girl from Silent Lake
“been” ― Leslie Wolfe, Las Vegas Girl
“was” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“enjoyed the view from the stratosphere. Maybe they were closer to the angels, like an old woman once told him. He didn’t really believe that, but either way, taller men had no issue asserting themselves faster and with less effort than shorter ones. Than him. He’d done everything he could think of to gain an inch or two while it was still possible. He’d spent all his high school and college years on the basketball court, where he was barely tolerated because of his height. He’d seen pro players and had envied their stature, convinced that hoops had something to do with it.” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Girl You Killed
“and college years on the basketball court, where he was barely tolerated because of his height. He’d seen pro players and had envied their stature, convinced that hoops had something to do with it. Believing he could maybe override his genetics and squeeze a little more elevation from his growing bones, he spared no effort. He ended up almost three inches taller than his father, which meant his efforts had probably paid off some, but he was no Michael” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Girl You Killed
“The moon was obscured by heavy clouds. January was already past the mid-mark and the early delta spring would soon be on them. Already on the night was the faint, fresh smell of buddings and the intimacy that comes from the warm delta air trapped between slumbering earth and lowering clouds.” ― Leslie H. Whitten Jr., Moon of the Wolf
“People are bundles of pain and fear, each wearing their own brand of misery,” he continued. “Trust me, I know. When they’re at the end of their rope, they come here, with their stories.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“It was still early morning when Tess landed at O’Hare, bringing her the ultimate enjoyment of driving through Chicago’s infamous, rush-hour traffic.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“Most people wouldn’t be caught dead in the heart of the Florida Everglades at dusk. A treacherous land of myriad insects and predators, it kept visitors away effectively. Blood-seeking insects don’t even matter for the accidental visitor, more concerned with the few but deadly poisonous snake species, the huge pythons, and the 10-foot alligators. Here, in the Glades, only the skilled and the irresponsible venture, and the latter don’t usually make it out. Matthew” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“Os ricos vivem num mundo diferente, mas matam e morrem como os restantes de nós.” ― Leslie Wolfe
“We don’t welcome death; we covet the discontinuation of life’s agonizing sorrow.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Stories Untold
“The odor of burning sulphur shifted on the night air, acrid, a little foul. Somewhere, the Canaan dwellers had learned of a supplier of castor - an extract from the beaver's perineal glands. Little packets containing the brown-orange mass of dried animal matter arrived from Detroit at the Post Office's "general delivery." At home, by the kerosene light, the recipients unwrapped the packets. A poor relative sometimes would be given some of the fibrous gland, bitter and smelling slightly like strong human sweat, and the rest would go into a Mason jar. Each night, as prescribed by old Burrifous through his oracle, Ronnie, a litt1e would be mixed with clear spring water. And as it gave the water a creamy, rusty look, the owner would sigh with awe and fear. The creature, wolf or man, became more real through the very specific which was to vanquish him.” ― Leslie H. Whitten Jr., Moon of the Wolf
“There are a few other things. Weesee, when she used that word, Loup-garou, was right, at least in a sense. The word means werewolf.' Whitaker protested with a gasp of astonishment.'They don't exist,' he said sharply, jolted by a memory of old movies. The doctor replied quickly:'No, of course not. Not that way, not like some monster, a vampire or some such' 'What's the matter with him?' The doctor spoke softly, unwilling to stop until he had talked out the whole scope of the problem.'It is a type of encephalitis. Uncommon, but there, as solidly classified in medical literature as measles. Late effects of acute infectious encephalitis, lycanthropy, to be exact. Once it was called a form of monomania. Morbus lupinus is another name.' 'You will have to hunt him down. Then he will have to be kept in a cell, for a long time, under strong drugs, probably until he dies.' De Glew touched his throat, cleared it slightly. 'The alternative is that you hunt him down and kill him. He will kill, Aaron.' 'Won't it pass?' asked Whitaker incredulously. 'I don't think so, not permanently. And pass for how long? Suppose he is only mad one day out of four.' The doctor paused. 'Or when the moon is full. Or when he sees it full in his mind's eye.” ― Leslie H. Whitten Jr., Moon of the Wolf
“What I want is clear, since the day I killed Watson. Since that exhilarating moment fifteen years ago, I’ve known exactly who I am, or at least I started to discover. I’m a predator, a deadly one. A skilled hunter with sharp instincts and a fearless heart. One kill, and I was hooked for life. I live for the thrill of the kill, anticipating whom I will choose next, how I will do it, planning every little detail over and over in my head. Counting the minutes until the day of the feast.” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Watson Girl
“It is important that we actively work, as a nation, to improve the standard of living in other countries, but not beyond the point where we stop being able to maintain our own. If we continue to do that, we will soon lose the ability to help anyone, including ourselves. However, we can improve the standard of living in those areas in many different ways. We could share knowledge, innovation, healthcare advances, and best practices. We could make targeted infusions of capital and investment to the local economies.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Devil's Move
“We always assume we have time. There’s never any time. Every day we’re alive is borrowed against the unforeseen.” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Surgeon
“That’s how love dies, buried among recycle bin duty, folding lingerie, dishwasher cycles, and grocery shopping. PTA meetings, play dates, double shifts in the ER, taking a screaming kid to the dentist,” ― Leslie Wolfe, Glimpse of Death
“Time could be a son of a bitch when it wanted to.” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“morning” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Girl from Silent Lake
“been” ― Leslie Wolfe, Las Vegas Girl
“was” ― Leslie Wolfe, Dawn Girl
“enjoyed the view from the stratosphere. Maybe they were closer to the angels, like an old woman once told him. He didn’t really believe that, but either way, taller men had no issue asserting themselves faster and with less effort than shorter ones. Than him. He’d done everything he could think of to gain an inch or two while it was still possible. He’d spent all his high school and college years on the basketball court, where he was barely tolerated because of his height. He’d seen pro players and had envied their stature, convinced that hoops had something to do with it.” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Girl You Killed
“and college years on the basketball court, where he was barely tolerated because of his height. He’d seen pro players and had envied their stature, convinced that hoops had something to do with it. Believing he could maybe override his genetics and squeeze a little more elevation from his growing bones, he spared no effort. He ended up almost three inches taller than his father, which meant his efforts had probably paid off some, but he was no Michael” ― Leslie Wolfe, The Girl You Killed
