Which side was I on? There was no time to search for answers. All I could do now was ride on a werewolf's back, toward a destiny as hidden as the dark side of the moon.
Their fate rested entirely on me. I could save them by telling the truth. I could destroy them by lying. No one should have that much power.
He had held out shakily, like a tree that had been hacked down to its breaking point. But that kiss was the last swing, the final impact, and he gave in finally, felled.
Out of doubt, out of dark to the day's rising I came singing into the sun, sword unsheathing. To hope's end I rode and to heart's breaking: Now for wrath, now for ruin and a red nightfall!
He helped the Librarian up. There was a red glow in the ape's eyes. It had tried to steal his books. This was probably the best proof any wizard could require that the trolleys were brainless.
And what if I need something?' 'Find it yourself.' Connor tsk-ed. 'Where did all the niceties go?' 'You're not a guest. You're family. Find your own fucking towels.
So you choose him?' 'Cal betrayed me, and I betrayed him. And you betrayed us both, in a thousand different ways.' The words are heavy as stone but right. So right. 'I choose no one.
Banned and lionised by drunken cactuses, eternally sanguine in black and white, raw like the majestic sex on her ruby red deathswoman mouth, silver-coated terror in her eyes.
My shoes I got to pick. I chose worn-out red flats. I figured I should make it clear from the start that I wasn’t princess material.
The beauty and mystery of this world only emerges through affection, attention, interest and compassion . . . open your eyes wide and actually see this world by attending to its colors, details and irony.
Let me first state forthright that contrary to what we've often read in books and heard from preachers, when you are a woman, you don't feel like the Devil.
God is an energy, rather than an anthropomorphic being, and God's language is biology. Red blood cells, the principle of magnetic attraction, neurological synapse: each is a miracle, and in each is the presence and flow of God.
On a sticky August evening two weeks before her due date, Ashima Ganguli stands in the kitchen of a Central Square apartment, combining Rice Krispies and Planters peanuts and chopped red onion in bowl.
...and on that thin-mooned night, I could see little more than her silhoutte except for when she smoked, the burning cherry of the cigarette washing her face in pale red light.
The sky over Patusan was blood-red, immense, streaming like an open vein. An enormous sun nestled crimson amongst the treetops, and the forest below had a black and forbidding face.
Harry had worked his way through the American Dream and come to the conclusion that is was composed of a good lunch and a deep red wine that could soar.
We are not perfect in ourselves, but in Him we are. In the red circle of this world, there is no hope. However, because you’re living in the purple wedge, there is always His hope, power, and joy.
I'm named after my father, Rudolph," he said, then shot her a stern look. "But if you connect that with my red nose --
Horror, let's face it, is basically pretty dumb. You're writing about events that are preposterous, and the trick is to dress them up in language so compelling that the reader doesn't care.
He’s sitting casually at my kitchen table peeling the skin off an apple with a pocket knife, a red apple that he has quite obviously appropriated from my fruit bowl, might I add.
Blonde hair drawn into a no-nonsense bun, her new manicure the deep red of fresh blood, she’d even donned a blouse and slacks for the occasion, something Neve had forgotten Veronica owned.
