Leo: [reaches for dagger in back] Yee: Do not pull this dagger out. I'm sending you back to keep spying for us. You will be more convincing with a dagger in your back.
Use your wit as a shield, not as a dagger.
Mei: If you kill him, I'll kill you with this dagger.
When a needle sees a dagger, she cries "O sister!"
She realized that Rowan saw each of those thoughts and more as he reached into his tunic and pulled out a dagger. Her dagger. He extended it to her, it's long blade gleaming as if he'd been secretly polishing and caring for it these months. And when ...
When a thief finds nothing to steal he will steal a dagger made of sand.
When fate throws a dagger at you, there are only two ways to catch it: by the blade or by the handle.
Rule number four for me as a writer? Plotlines are like sharks: They either keep moving or they die. ~J.R. Ward
I reached for my daggers and realized, like a total tool, I’d thrown them somewhere over yonder in a fit of an “I am so awesome” and “who needs daggers when I have akasha fingers of power?” ego trip.
Kaya: Ashitaka! Prince Ashitaka: Kaya, what are you doing here? You know it's forbidden! Kaya: [holding out her crystal dagger] Do you think I care about that? I came to give you this, so you won't forget your little sister. Prince Ashitaka: [taking ...
Personally, I think so-called "common language" is more interesting and apropos than "proper English"; it's passionate and powerful in ways that "wherefore art thou ass and thy elbow" just isn't.
I just had his hand in a vise,” I protested indignantly. “It wasn’t like I had a dagger in his ribs. ‘Hand in a vise’ is simple assault or, in my case, self-defense. ‘Dagger in the ribs’ is attempted murder. My family did teach me the d...
I jerk around and see Sister Dora, a portly woman who's the head cook in the kitchen, staring daggers at me. This is nothing new. She stares daggers at everyone who walks through the lunch line holding a tray, as though our needing sustenance is a pe...
Word - that invisible dagger.
She stared at the bullwhip coiled Indiana Jones-style at his narrow waist, then at the black-handled dagger sheathed on his right hip. An obsidian rapier--Fae-forged and unbreakable--almost merged with one of the taped seams that ran down the sides o...
Time thins the cloth of memory. As the ages pass, its rich colors fade. Strong wool is beaten by the elements until the pattern of its lesson disintegrates, leaving holes in the truth it was meant to carry on. Even the stains of blood bend and bleed,...
Someone put opera on inside the house. Someone changed it to hip-hop, thank God. Someone started a shower. Someone vacuumed. Again. Life. In all its mundane majesty. And you couldn't take advantage of it if you were sitting on your ass in the shadows...
Grief was dagger-shaped and sharp and pointed inward. It was made of fresh loss and old sorrow. Rendered and forged and sometimes polished. Irene Finney had taken her daughter’s death and to that sorrow she’d added a long life of entitlement and ...
Ça va. Nap time is over.
The Vatican is a dagger in the heart of Italy.
When my heart bleeds, it needs no stab with the dagger.
