She felt the smile turn the corners of her lips upward and placed her hand flat on his chest, just above his heart. “That’s yours now, babe,” Jason whispered, kissing her forehead. “Be careful with it, OK?
If someone comes along and shoots an arrow into your heart, it’s fruitless to stand there and yell at the person. It would be much better to turn your attention to the fact that there’s an arrow in your heart...
The English... are the most deplorable milksops. They are creatures of that miserable sort who loudly proclaim that torture is too good for their enemies and then give tea and cigarettes to the first wounded German pilot who turns up at the back door...
It’s often said when a baby is born so is a grandparent; well, for me it turned out that when I was born it was also the birth of a Ding Dong.
He put his wrists out in front, and as he spoke the words engraved on them, he turned his arms around slowly. "Dum spiramus tuebimur, which in English reads: while we breath, we shall defend," he told her.
I am turned into a dream. I feel nothing, or I don't know what I feel. Yet it seems to me I am happy.
He was the darkest of voices inside her head, the Night-kind King, and when he turned his gift of persuasion onto her, she wanted to take her soul out of her body and hand it to him.
They'd had to empty their pockets and turn over Aunt Val's purse to the security guard. That way, I wouldn't be tempted to try to kill anyone with her lip gloss and her travel-size pack of tissues.
This was the cream of marriage, this nightly turning out of the day's pocketful of memories, this deft habitual sharing of two pairs of eyes, two pairs of ears. It gave you, in a sense, almost a double life: though never, on the other hand, quite a s...
The day had been spent in the expectation of these hours, and now they were crumbling away, becoming, in their turn, another period of expectancy...It was a journey without end, leading to an indefinite future, eternally shifting just as she was reac...
....And then I turned and saw a guy staring at me.... "What are you looking at, idiot?" I asked, giving him the sneer that had served me so well. "My future wife. The mother of my children.
It turns out that an eerie type of chaos can lurk just behind a facade of order - and yet, deep inside the chaos lurks an even eerier type of order.
When I turn my mind's eye upon myself, I understand that I am a thing which is incomplete and dependent on another and which aspires without limit to ever greater and better things...
The living take a part of the dead with them, carrying them around in their minds, like a song that lingers after the music has been turned off.
Aimee turned and walked out, giving him a wink and a smile, careful not to part her lips. His reaction to her fangs, as amusing as it may be, would hurt her chances of blending in.” – Aimee (Marked Book #1) page 215
Fuck the pack. I gave them fifteen years of my life. I fought for them, bled for them, and the moment my back was turned, they attacked my wife. I owe them nothing.
When I carved this, my thoughts were on you, love. Your life is like this snake's coils. No matter how many turns it makes, you'll end up back where you belong. With me.
A few days later, I found my mother beneath the tree, motionless with excitement, her head turned toward the heavens in which she would allow human religions no place.
I would like to think she turns around and goes home and does one thing differently that day because of what she has imagined, and again the day after that, and the day after that.
I’d like to invent a product that’ll turn 18-year-olds into 21-year-olds, and sell it in front of bars.
I’d like to sit around a campfire with a couple of cowboys and argue over who’s going to turn on the stove.
