undead

With her, and only with her, the dead in me is alive.

Sometimes dead is better

We__e not a people worth saving, plain and simple. We__e completely beyond that__oth the undead and the few still living. Yeah, 'living.' Some life, huh? But it__ the only life we could ever possibly live if we want to stay alive another day. It__ our life that terrifies me.

Let's say that it belong to me as much as it belongs to anyone alive today. If I am, strictly speaking, living. The old word was undead, you know, but aren't all living things undead. I dislike imprecision.

Suspicion infused Alex's voice. "Okay? That's it?"I looked back at him and smiled. "That's it. We disagree. It's done. We'll deal with whatever comes next."He stood up, brows lowered over squinty eyes. "Did Lafitte ply you with brandy, or have the body snatchers been here?

I believe he's been asked to testify today," I told Lennox, who'd continued to track Truman's progress through the room. "He's a member of the historical undead, Truman Capote, the author. He wrote Breakfast at Tiffany's and In Cold Blood."..."Hi, Truman, you're sitting next to me," I said, pulling out his chair. I figured after he'd asked me to suck on his cherry, we should be on a first-name basis.

Isabelle! he called again. Let down your raven hair. Oh, my God, Clary muttered. There was something in that blood Raphael gave you, wasn't there? I'm going to kill him. He's already dead, Simon observed. He's undead. Obviously he can still die, you know, again. I'll re-kill him.

I would say Randolph's a horse's ass, but that would be unfair to the horse.

Sorcha took the elevator down to the basement of the fashion house. She glanced at her stunningly beautiful reflection in the mirror and smiled to herself. How fortunate she was to be a vampire - no gray hairs, no wrinkles, no broken nails, no weight problems, and no PMT. What bliss! And how fortunate it was that all the legends about vampires were not true. She could not imagine an existence where she could not see and admire her own likeness - such a life to her would be intolerable and tedious. How could any female, even a vampire, survive without being able to see their own reflection? How could they do their hair and makeup? The very idea was totally preposterous.

In order to remain undead, I must steal the life force of someone whose fate matters less to me than my own.' I've always supposed that Wall Street traders utter essentially the same sentence.

The undead don__ care about careers. Vampires are all retirees.

What's that you're holding?" he asked, noticing the pamphlet, still rolled up in her left

Happiness is the province of those who ask few questions.

Don't judge me. Ethics and morality no longer exist in our world. It's a luxury of the past, afforded only to those who had a future.

Which was how Britteny ended up nestled next to Mickey, under the shelter of a painter's drop cloth.She felt no pain.She saw no light.She heard, but barely.Her heart was still and silent.Yet she did not die.

He is the intermediary between us, his audience, the living, and they, the dolls, the undead, who cannot live at all and yet who mimic the living in every detail since, though they cannot speak or weep, still they project those signals of signification we instantly recognize as language.

Come now, I was not about to let that thing eat you.

Todd__ wife was one of those women with a forced smile perpetually cemented on her face. Even after being chased by a mob of homicidal maniacs and attempting to barricade doors with barstools she kept up appearances, practicing for the days when her husband would be running for public office. When she saw her son poking at their former mail carrier__ dead body a look of utter horror came across her face for the slightest instant. She caught herself and put that smile back on so quickly Will wondered if she might have pulled a few cheek muscles. __revor!_ she hissed through clenched teeth. __revor, you get away from that this instant! You don__ know what kind of diseases that man had. Children shouldn__ play with dead things._ Will looked at Todd and smirked. __ute kid. How many of those things do you think are out there?