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Quote by George R.R. Martin

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A Dance with Dragons

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George R.R. Martin

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“Coffee's in the cabinet over the sink. I won't take long." "Good. You want a cup?" "No, I'm good. I had some at the airport." They entered the apartment and Eleanor split off to go to her bedroom while Bosch found the kitchen and went to work on the coffee. He found a mug that said World's Best Mom on its side and used that. It had been hand-painted a long time before and the words had faded with each cycle the mug had gone through in the dishwasher.”

“I pulled you from the water And kept you in my bed. A lost, forsaken daughter Of a past that isn’t dead. Somehow love from sweet obsession Branched and broke a heart of stone. Distrust became confession, Solemn vows of blood and bone. But in the wind, I hear the strain, Pilgrim soul that time has found. It moans to whisk you back again. Bid me follow, sweetly drown. Don’t go near the water, love. Stay away from strand or sea. You cannot walk on water, love. The lough will take you far from me.”

“Did Automae . . . feel things like that? Could an Automa girl feel that tug in her lower belly, that fishhook pull, making her want more, want harder, want deeper, want sweeter? Want hands in her hair, on her waist, on her hips, want—? Don’t go there, Ayla told herself, but she couldn’t help it. Yesterday afternoon in the river, she had seen the whole of Crier’s body, and the yearning that drummed through her wasn’t anything she’d felt before, and her own reaction wasn’t anything she’d felt before, the oceanic pulse between her hips, the things she wanted. Skin on skin, fingers intertwined. She’d tracked the drops of water trailing down Crier’s throat, her collarbone, the curve of her back, down her bare legs when she climbed back up onto the riverbank, and looking hadn’t felt like enough. Did Crier feel the same? Could Crier feel the same? Maybe Ayla already knew the answer. The way Crier had touched her in Elderell, hands flying from Ayla’s arms to her face, fingers raking through her hair, lips parting . . .”