Top 270 Quotes & Sayings by Kelley Armstrong

Young writers need to be encouraged to write - just write - with no restrictions on form, style or content.

It wasn't until I was in my teens that I started admiring writers as inspirations for my own work, and my earliest influences there were Stephen King, Marion Zimmer Bradley and Richard Adams.

It took many years to accept that fantasy is the fuel for my storytelling passion, and without that, I really am a hack, writing for money or approval rather than for the pure delight of storytelling.

Storytelling is my passion, and it rises from a love of reading.

Reviews are great. I can read negative reviews and say, 'You know that point they made... they were dead on.'

Even in horror novels where you know most characters aren't going to make it to the end, it's crucial to have fully fleshed-out characters. If you don't do that, the reader doesn't care what happens to them.

I grew up writing about the paranormal, and I blame too many Saturday mornings watching 'Scooby Doo.'

When a series is doing well, it's very tempting to keep writing it, even when the creative well is drying up. It's tempting because that's where the money is. I've had to be very careful; as soon as I think I'm getting close to that dry well, I wrap the series up. I don't want to just keep writing something because it sells.

I always worried that the creative well would dry up. I was sure that if I wrote a book a year, I would eventually run out of ideas. Actually, the opposite has been true for me. The more I write, the more ideas come to me and it gets easier.

Everyone is the sum total of past experiences. A character doesn't just spring to life at age thirty.

Especially in the world of fantasy and superheroes, it's great to have role models that aren't in skimpy little outfits, in impossible poses. That's so important for young women.

I don't read much of what I write because I worry about unintentionally borrowing something.

The first piece of 'long' fiction I wrote was a novella parody of Stephen King's 'Christine.' I was in high school, and my version was about a kid with a possessed locker instead of a possessed car. It was also my first attempt at humour, which fell completely flat because no one who read it realized it was a parody!

There is no story that can't be improved by adding zombies.

I remember hearing myself start to whimper, a five-year-old, crouched by the side of the road, staring into my father's eyes, whimpering because it was so dark and there was no one coming to help, whimpering because my mother was back in the crushed car, not moving, and my father was lying here in the dirt, not answering me, not holding me, not comforting me, not helping my mother get out of the car, and there was blood, so much blood, and broken glass everywhere, and it was so dark and so cold and no one was coming to help.

I glanced up to see Liz and smiled. "Thank you." "I just went along for the ride. After that happened-" She waved at Derek. "You know how blind people need Seeing Eye dogs? Well, apparently werewolves could really use Opening Door poltergeists.

Life experience. I can talk it up, vow to broaden my horizons, but I’m still limited to the experiences with my life. How can a person understand an experience that lies completely outside her own? She can see it, feel it, imagine what it would be like to live it, but it’s no different from seeing a movie on a screen and saying, “Thank God that’s not me”.

Tori joined us for dinner --in body, at least. She spent the meal practicing for a role in the next zombie movie, expressionless, methodically moving fork to mouth, sometimes even with food on it.

Never go easy on allies if you ahve to take them down. Especially allies. You’re already fighting the urge not to hurt them. Counteract that and hit them with everything you’ve got.

I want you to have big dreams, big goals. I want you to strive to achieve them. But I don't want to see you beating yourself up every time you make a mistake.

We had one gun, one werewolf, one poltergeist, one supercharged spell-caster, one not-so-supercharged spell-caster, and one perfectly useless necromancer, though Liz was quick to remind me that she needed me to relay her words. - Chloe

That's what we all want, isn't it? Power without price.

I wanted to walk over there. I wanted to curl up beside him, lean against him, talk to him. I wanted to know what he was thinking. I wanted to tell him everything would be okay. And I wanted him to tell me the same thing. I didn't care if it was true or not- I just wanted to say it. To hear it, to feel his arms around me, hear the rumble of his words, that deep chuckle that made me pulse race

I'd always thought of myself as an open-minded person. I had no patience with anyone who put down other kids because of their race, religion, or sexuality. But that's just one kind of open-mindedness. There's another kind, too, the kind that's willing to see people for who they really are and admit when you were wrong about them. That's the part I still need to work on.

What's the woman doing there?" he asked. "Covering a scratch on the hood. She was cheaper than a new paint job." He flipped through a few more pages of barely dressed women and classic cars. "Nick used to have magazines like this when we were kids. But without the cars." He rotated a photo sideways. "Or the bathing suits.

He was trying to tell me something.' Derek snorted. 'Aren’t they all? Must be a rule in the ghost handbook—if in danger of evaporating, make sure you’re in the middle of a dire pronouncement.

Then he reached up and tore my shirtfront open. "Not much to see, is there?" I said, struggling to talk with a crushed windpipe. "I know, I know, they can fix things like that these days. Call me a feminist, but I think a woman's worth should be defined not by the size of her bust, but - " I rammed my fist up into his Adam's apple. He grunted and stumbled back. "- by the strength of her right hook.

It's a road," Corey said, pointing. "A dirt road," Hayley muttered. "So? We've been slogging through the forest for two days. What do you want? A six-lane highway?

One of the first lessons a necromancer learns is the art of playing dumb. Of course, one problem with playing dumb is that is seeps into your everyday life. ~Jaime Vegas

Cleavage is great," she said. "Like an extra pocket.

He said "cool" like I say a Spanish word when I'm not sure of the pronunciation.

Maybe my expectations for honesty are too high.

Where's Simon?"..."Is he okay? Why isn't he here?" She glared at Derek. "Where'd you leave him?" Passed out in an alley." Derek frowned in thought. "Not sure where, though.

A name is so important. A surname connects you to your past, to your family. Even a given name has meaning - why did your parents pick that particular one?

Remembering. Forgetting. I'm not sure which is worse.

My past was a private obstacle, not a public excuse.

Wow. The guy can make me feel stupid even when he's telling me I don't have to let him make me feel stupid.

You bat your baby blues at tall, dark, and gruesome, and next thing you know, he's trailing you like a lost puppy.

It's because when we sneeze, our soul flies out our nose and if no one says 'bless you,' the devil can snatch it.

I had to take responsibility, even if it meant saying no to an authority figure, because I was the authority on me.

I've spent the last decade learning to stand firm and face my problems… or at least batter them until they're unrecognizable.

What's wrong?" I didn't say a word." Something's up. What is it?" Nothing." His head turned, gaze going to mine. "Yeah?" Yes." A snort and he returned to his bowl.

Your mother sets you up blind dates? With guys like that?" The corners of his mouth twitched. "She doesn't like you very much, does she?

The rottweiler stood his ground and waited for me to take the next step in the dance of ritualized intimidation. Instead, I leaped at him. Screw ritual. Now was not the time to stand on ceremony.

Umm, correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't you suppose to be dead? Currently being chased by two Cabals? You're waltzing around Vancouver, eating in restaurants?" (Ash)"Hell no," Corey said. "I never waltz. I do the fox-trot sometimes though.

And the bad guys love to pick on the defenseless necromancer. This time, though, I swear I won’t get kidnapped or possessed. ~Jaime Vegas

So I was right, wasn't I? It's still you, even in wolf form.' He grunted. No sudden uncontrollable urges to go kill something?' He rolled his eyes. Hey, you're the one who was worried.' I paused. 'And I don't smell like dinner, right?' I got a real look for that one. Just covering all the bases.

What I was doing when I was creating my werewolves is really basing them on a wild wolf pack, as much as possible. It's not as if being bitten brings you in, but what it does is that it strengthens that instinct for pack. It strengthens that instinct to need to be with others who are like you, and to form tight bonds, as an actual wolf pack does.

Kids who don't eavesdrop on adult conversations are doomed to a childhood of ignorance.

No. Harsh truth was better than comfortable lies. It had to be.

If you say ‘we’re in this together,’ I’m going to hurl.

He rolled his eyes. "First, my Dad's Korean and my mom was Swedish. Second, I totally suck at math. I don't like cuckoo clocks or skiing or fancy chocolate either." I sputtered a laugh. "I think that's Swiss.

Remember when we met? Before you left, you said you were going to make a fool of yourself over me. That's still what you're worried about. That you'll find yourself doing things you never dreamed of doing, things you laughed at in others, and you'll make a fool of yourself.

Dearly departed, scarcely lamented, deeply demented.

A girl my age had been murdered in these woods and I'd seen her last terrified moments, watched her bleed to death in this forest. A life like mine had ended here, and it didn't matter how many times I'd seen deaths in movies, it wasn't the same, and I wasn't ever going to forget it.

Yes, I can talk and think at the same time. Most people can, though I suppose you wouldn't know that from personal experience. Elena (Bitten)

Dont talk to the crazy kids. I longed to shout back that we weren't crazy. I'd mistaken her kid for a ghost, that's all.

when times are tough, the weak bail and the tough get creative.

That's what being crazy was, wasn't it? You thought you were fine. Everyone else knew better.

I'm behind you." I spun to see Derek. "I can't win," he said. "You're as skittish as a kitten.