Quotessence
Home / Quotes / Quote by Akshay Vasu

Quote by Akshay Vasu

“She was sleeping on the bed like a novel that is yet to be read and he sat on the floor, reading her, moving his fingers through her hair and staring at her face like she was magic that none ever understood.”

Quote by Akshay Vasu

Author

Akshay Vasu

Browse famous quotes and profile details for Akshay Vasu. more

You May Also Like

“She might not have read many books. But when she reads a book, she swallows the very words. If you open the books on her shelves, you will find that the front and back covers encase white pages.”

“[...] como o romance tem essa correspondência com a vida real, seus valores são, numa certa medida, os da vida real. Mas é óbvio que os valores das mulheres diferem, com frequência, dos que foram feitos pelo outro sexo; isso acontece, naturalmente. E, no entanto, são os valores masculinos que prevalecem. Falando cruamente, o futebol e o esporte são "importantes"; o culto da moda e a compra de roupas são "insignificantes". E esses valores são inevitavelmente transferidos da vida para a ficção. Esse é um livro importante, pressupõe o crítico, porque lida com a guerra. Esse é um livro insignificante, pois lida com os sentimentos das mulheres numa sala de visitas.”

“His voice was reassuring and calm, his expression soft, his eyes brighter than ever. Oh Ahura Mazda, she’d never wanted any man so intently in all her life. She ached to have him touch her, kiss her, taste her. And Ivar did as she wished. He put her hand to his nose to smell her skin, kissed her inner wrist to taste her, his lips lingered over her racing pulse. Finally, it was confirmed in actions and direct words, spoken aloud and repeated seven times… She felt the rush of desire ripping through her body, an intense sensation of warmth upon her skin, the blissful waves of uneasiness swamped through her, tingling her nerves.”

“She closed the distance between them and gave him a tentative hug. He was liberally cologned, with a scent that incited bewildering memories. She circled him, not knowing why. She had only met him a few weeks back, yet tonight, something about him triggered old memories, of a time, a person. Maybe not. What she did know, he lacked that special ingredient that moved her. Dull as ditch water. He was sufficiently polite, but that was about all she could say. –Michael Benzehabe, from the novel Unassimilated”

“A moment later, Vesta became aware that her life was passing her by in that busy city, where no man could capture her heart… What if she married someone, who wasn’t mentally prepared to keep his Zoroastrian identity intact? Or what if her future husband was forced to convert to Islam? What if he tried to force her to convert as well? What if he suddenly decided to become an extremist and called for Sharia Laws in Kurdland? She shivered at the thought.”

“عاد إلى منزله مشيا .. وحيدا في الشارع يستمع لصدى خطواته . في إعياء تام . كان النور المنبعث من أحد أعمدة المصابيح يسقط على جسده باهتا . كان شكله وسط الظلام يوحي بالغموض و الغرابة. كان موزع النفس كاسف البال وقد ارتخت كتفاه إلى الأمام . انهار كل ما كان يؤمن به”