Quotessence
Home / Authors / Dana Marton

Dana Marton Quotes

Author

Filter quotes by topic

Famous Dana Marton Quotes

“Guilt was a living, breathing thing. Guilt could tie you tighter than ropes, and he should know. He had extensive experience with both. He’d been the captive of a madman, along with Jess, for three days that had felt like an eternity. Then, this past year, he’d been a POW in Afghanistan, the prisoner of insurgents, for six torturous months. Yet it had been the three days with Jess that had broken him in ways the insurgents could never accomplish.”

“He blinked. “Have you ever run naked through the woods?” “Certainly.” She allowed a moment to enjoy the way his eyes flared. “Why? His voice roughened, deepened, back to that just-awakened grizzly-bear tone. “To be one with nature, without barriers. To feel the wind and the moonlight on my skin.” Several seconds passed before he responded. “You can’t feel moonlight.” She smiled…”

“I like thinking,” she added, “that the forest sounds the same as it did millions of years ago, and it will sound the same millions of years from now. I find the endlessness comforting. It puts my small problems into perspective. Like looking at the stars at night and realizing that everything I worried about all day is utterly insignificant compared to the vastness of the universe.”

“When I was young, I wanted to be an astronaut. Someone who flies in a spaceship to the moon,” he explained, in case she didn’t know the word. She thought about that for a moment. “But you didn’t go.” “Turns out I have dyslexia. It’s something in your brain that makes it hard to learn. Mine is not bad, just enough so I couldn’t pass the test.” “I’m glad you didn’t go to the moon,” she said. “I think it’s better that you came here.”

“As he waited for her, he braced himself for the sight of her, ready to turn out the light as soon as she reached her bed. But when Daniela came in, she wasn’t wearing her nightgown. She returned from the bathroom in a bath towel. And then she locked the door behind her and dropped the towel. Drops of water glistened on her naked skin as if she’d been painted with diamonds. “Christ,” he breathed.”

“Something dropped on her shoulder, but even as she screamed, her heart stopping midbeat, the next oncoming branch swept the tarantula away. Aww! Ick! She manically brushed her shoulder with her free hand, every inch of her covered in goose bumps. "When running from people who're trying to kill you," Walker advised as he kept dragging her, "it's better to stay quiet. Generally speaking.”

“Flash fire." She turned her head as far as she could, trying to look at him. "I don't know what that means." He shifted on the branch. "First time I was on a submarine, we had a flash fire. It's a combustion explosion. A flammable mist builds up in the air, then suddenly, bam. Think super high temperatures and a rapidly moving flame front. It kills by asphyxiation. Burns up all the available oxygen. It's devastating.”

“She sighed. "You're not without fault, but you're not rotten. Although you're very disorderly. You're pigheaded, cocky beyond bearing, arrogant." She stopped when she realized she'd just said the same thing three times over. "You have a troubling obsession with vigilante justice." She cleared her throat. "Well, I'm sure there are things you don't like about me." "You're not naked, and you're not under me." His voice was thick with passion.”

“Jasmine hurried along the Grand Canal, dodging a group of diehard revelers, glancing back over her shoulder for the hundredth time. She couldn't see Gabe Cannon anywhere. Her teenage fantasy man was hunting her brother. She sure hadn't seen that coming. Freaking surreal. He looked just as good as when she'd first met him at that airport and had fallen instantly in love over pizza and chips. One of those unavoidable pitfalls of life, really. He'd been more handsome than any of her pop idols, and her teenage emotions had been just begging for an outlet. She cringed in embarrassment when she thought of all the melodramatic drivel she'd written about him in her high school diary.”

“He registered the empty room a split second before she dropped on him from the storage shelf above the bathroom door, nearly knocking him off his feet. "Hey. Stop that." He tried to twist to get hold of her, but his temple caught her sharp elbow and he saw stars. He staggered toward the bed and flipped her down at last, but she managed to hook her leg behind his neck and he ended up on the boom somehow, with her sittinbg on his chest. Her wild, shoulder-length waves framed cheeks pink from effort, her chest heaving as she leaned forward to pin his hands next to his head on each side. She ended up with her fine breasts inches from his lips. He could have subdued her in two moves, but he liked her on top of him.”

“They faced each other in silence for a long minute, both of them clearly uncomfortable. He hated all the awkwardness between them. To hell with that. He smiled at her. "So do I get to know what's in that diary?" She blushed crimson. "That diary got you into this mess. You could have been killed. How can you joke about it?" "No joke. I'm sincerely interested." An understatement. He would have given his antique baseball bat collection to know what she'd written about him ten years ago. "I was a foolish teenager." "And now?" He stepped closer.”