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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #fiction
Metaphysically, his bowl filled and emptied at the same time. Violent and maniacal to push himself so far, he'd both created and destroyed his body's energy. In other words he had complete power, self-sustaining, self-sacrificing power at the origin of himself. ↗
#death #fantasy #love #red #science-fiction
What did one see if one looked in any depth into the world of this writer's fiction? Elegant self-control concealing from the world's eyes until the very last moment a state of inner disintegration and biological decay; sallow ugliness, sensuously marred and worsted, which nevertheless is able to fan its smouldering concupiscence to a pallid impotence, which from the glowing depths of the spirit draws strength to cast down a whole proud people at the foot of the Cross and set its own foot upon them as well; gracious poise and composure in the empty austere service of form; the false, dangerous life of the born deceiver, his ambition and his art which lead so soon to exhaustion --- ↗
All malice, real and imagined, Ralegh's and the KIng's, will die upon the instant stroke of an axe. Be buried with him. His faith, then? Whatever remains will be parted. Some will go with the head and some with the headless body. Let them look for each other on Judgment Day. Perhaps on that day, in the haste of it, the bodies of traitors will have to settle for heads other than their own. Some inevitable mismatching of villians and rogues will take place. And one fine bony fellow will spy his skull upon another's body. Then another. And then maybe we shall be witness to the brawl and battle of the bones... ↗
Tod's pale brows arched halfway up his forehead, and he looked suddenly, achingly wistful. "She knows not what she says..." Maybe not. But I was starting to get a pretty good idea... ↗
But a shift has occurred since I stepped up to take Prim’s place, and now it seems I have become someone pre- cious. At first one, then another, then almost every member of the crowd touches the three middle fingers of their left hand to their lips and holds it out to me. It is an old and rarely used gesture of our district, occasionally seen at funerals. It means thanks, it means admiration, it means good-bye to someone you love. ↗
#love
No, Kramisha, he's not black. He's a killer bird with evil for his Daddy. ↗
#house-of-night #kramisha #stevie-ray #young-adult-fiction #young-adult
We stand there for a moment, staring at each other, savoring it. And then all at once, we slam together. Mia's legs are off the ground, wrapped around my waist, her hands dipping in my hair, my hands tangled in hers. And our lips. There isn't enough skin, enough spit, enough time, for the lost years that our lips are trying to make up for as they find each other. We kiss. The electric current switches to high. The lights throughout all of Brooklyn must be surging. ↗
Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair, in routine and constancy, in hopelessness and tragedy, we can thank God for Bavarian sugar cookies. And, fortunately, when there aren't any cookies, we can still find reassurance in a familiar hand on our skin, or a kind and loving gesture, or subtle encouragement, or a loving embrace, or an offer of comfort, not to mention hospital gurneys and nose plugs, an uneaten Danish, soft-spoken secrets, and Fender Stratocasters, and maybe the occasional piece of fiction. And we must remember that all these things, the nuances, the anomalies, the subtleties, which we assume only accessorize our days, are effective for a much larger and nobler cause. They are here to save our lives. I know the idea seems strange, but I also know that it just so happens to be true. ↗
#love
