Rob Thurman
Rob Thurman
Robyn Thurman, writing under the name Rob Thurman, is a New York Times Best Selling American novelist. To date, she has written three series and two short stories, totaling 11 books, and has been published in the US, UK, Germany, and Japan...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionNovelist
CountryUnited States of America
rain world
There are a lot of truths in this world. When it rains it pours. It's always darkest before the dawn. He who smelt it dealt it.
genuinely
Don't accept what's out there because that is all that's out there. Look for the new and unusual. Seek out what you genuinely want to read and don't settle.
compared inevitably love though urban
I love Urban Fantasy, even though I'm inevitably compared to 'Supernatural,' only a little more edgy.
writing space people
I have people in my life, of course. Some write; some don't. Some read; some don't. Some stare vacantly into space when I talk the geeky talk and walk the geeky walk, but they make killer chocolate chip pancakes and so all is forgiven.
suicide people favorite-places
Leandros's favorite place had turned out not to be vegetarian, but vegan, which was for people who preferred their suicide slow.
morning coffee drink
You're so very good at that. The temper, the scowl. You must drink shots of testosterone in your morning coffee.
giving shining ems
When life gives you lemons. . . You might as well shove 'em where the sun don't shine, because you sure as hell aren't ever going to see any lemonade.
lying acid heartbeat
Lies were like acid, corrosive: They could dissolve trust in a heartbeat.
memories
Memories - you can't escape them, but you can't let them rule you either.
koalas arguing breaths
Pooh hater,' I muttered under my breath. 'Winnie-the-Pooh was not a koala--why am I even arguing about this with you?
clothes maids sock
Pick up your clothes. I am not your maid. How do I know this? A maid cannot kill you with a tube sock. I can.
moon land names
It is now. It is always now. Now is good. Now could be the best. My name is Catcher. My name was Catcher. My name...my name... I am... I am lost, I am found and then I am free and I am happy. When I jump over that edge, someone leaps with me, shoulder to shoulder. I smell kinship on him. Kinship is all. I'm not alone. Never alone. I land, earth below me, moon above. I am wolf. We are pack. And that is all I need.
stupid people died
People--stupid when they lived; potentially stupid when they died.
distance sound moral
I raised another shot. "That sound you hear is the heads of moral conservatives spontaneously exploding in the distance.