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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #mari
If they tell you that she died of sleeping pills you must know that she died of a wasting grief, of a slow bleeding at the soul. ↗
She let her head fall back upon Marius' knees and her eyelids closed. He thought that poor soul had gone. Eponine lay motionless; but just when Marius supposed her for ever asleep, she slowly opened her eyes in which the gloomy deepness of death appeared, and said to him with an accent the sweetness on which already seemed to come from another world: "And then, do you know, Monsieur Marius, I believe I was a little in love with you." She essayed to smile again and expired. ↗
In strict medical terms marijuana is far safer than many foods we commonly consume. For example, eating 10 raw potatoes can result in a toxic response. By comparison, it is physically impossible to eat enough marijuana to induce death. Marijuana in its natural form is one of the safest therapeutically active substances known to man. By any measure of rational analysis marijuana can be safely used within the supervised routine of medical care. [DEA Administrative Law Judge - 1988] ↗
Sit," Chloe said, dashing after him and tugging firmly at his sleeve. "Let's hear the rest of it. You can kill him later." ~Chloe to Dageus. ↗
#dageus #death #karen-marie-moning #the-dark-highlander #death
Woolrich had a genius for creating types of story perfectly consonant with his world: the noir cop story, the clock race story, the waking nightmare, the oscillation thriller, the headlong through the night story, the annihilation story, the last hours story. These situations, and variations on them, and others like them, are paradigms of our position in the world as Woolrich sees it. His mastery of suspense, his genius (like that of his spiritual brother Alfred Hitchcock) for keeping us on the edge of our seats and gasping with fright, stems not only from the nightmarish situations he conjured up but from his prose, which is compulsively readable, cinematically vivid, high-strung almost to the point of hysteria, forcing us into the skins of the hunted and doomed where we live their agonies and die with them a thousand small deaths. ↗
Chloe kept her expression bland. He looked immensely pleased with himself this morning, and there was no way she was letting him know she'd had even one nocturnal thought about him. "I can't remember," she said, blinking guilelessly. "In fact, I slept so deeply I don't think I dreamt at all." "Indeed," he murmured. When he moved forward, she nearly jumped out of her skin, but he simply reached behind her and pulled the door to her bedchamber shut. Then backed her against it. "Hey," she snapped. "I sought but to give you a good morrow kiss, lass. 'Tis a Scots custom." She craned her neck, scowling up at him, and gave him a look that said Yeah, right, nice try. "A wee one. No tongue. I promise," he said, his lips curving faintly. "You never give up, do you?" "I never will, sweet. Doona you know that by now?" Oooh, that was beginning to take on shades of her dream. And he'd called her "sweet," a little endearment. She damped her mouth shut and shook her head. ↗
