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Quote by Noen Muti

“Jika cinta adalah obor yang menyala terang, maka kasih adalah api yang tak pernah padam.”

Quote by Noen Muti

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Noen Muti

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“Before Marco could respond, the low hum of the backup systems faltered, flickering off momentarily, plunging the cafeteria into silence. The crowd froze, and then the red emergency lights flared back on, dimmer than before. A wave of unease rippled through the room. “What now?” Marco muttered, his hand brushing the edge of the table as if for support. Then the voice came. It was faint at first, a whisper carried on an invisible wind. But it grew quickly, overlapping into a cacophony of fragmented words and phrases, echoing from every direction. “Too many… too much…” “Falling… the stars… no, no, no…” “I can’t… hold… where… where are you…?” The cafeteria erupted into chaos. People clutched their heads or dropped to their knees, covering their ears as if trying to block out the sound. Some screamed, others whimpered, and a few simply stood frozen, wide-eyed and pale. Marco turned to Berta, shouting over the noise. “What’s going on? Is this the Logista? Is it them?” Berta didn’t answer, her gaze fixed on the center of the room. She wasn’t sure what she was looking for, but something about the voice sent a chill down her spine. Then, with a sound like distant thunder, the echoes ceased. The room fell silent, save for the sound of ragged breathing and muffled sobs. The crowd stood motionless, their eyes darting around, waiting for something else to happen. And then it did. A flash of light burst into existence at the center of the room, so bright it forced everyone to shield their eyes. When it subsided, a figure lay crumpled on the floor, smoke rising faintly from their form. Marco’s breath caught. “Ereban?”

“Japan and Hong Kong are steadily whittling away at the last of the elephants, turning their tusks (so much more elegant left on the elephant) into artistic carvings. In much the same way, the beautiful furs from leopard, jaguar, Snow leopard, Clouded leopard and so on, are used to clad the inelegant bodies of thoughtless and, for the most part, ugly women. I wonder how many would buy these furs if they knew that on their bodies they wore the skin of an animal that, when captured, was killed by the medieval and agonizing method of having a red-hot rod inserted up its rectum so as not to mark the skin.”

“Beautiful prairies, bordered by lofty hills sparsely scattered with timber, stretch around. The massive fronds of the Pinus Ponderosa replace the elegant leaflets of the Cedar, no longer found save rarely, perchance, in some deep dell moistened by a purling streamlet. Groves of aspen appear here and there. The Balsam Poplar shows itself at intervals only, along the streams. The white racemes of the Service-berry flower, and the chaste flowers of the Mock Orange, load the air with their fragrance. Every copse re-echoes with the low drumming of the ruffed Grouse; the trees resound with the muffled booming of the Cock of the Woods. The Pheasant shirrs past; the scrannel-pipe of the larger Crane -- ever a watchful sentinel -- grates harshly on the ear; and the shrill whistle of the Curlew as it soars aloft aides the general concert of the re-opined year. I speak still of Spring; for the impressions of that jocum season are ever the most vivid, and naturally recur with the greatest force in after years. -- Alexander Caulfield Anderson describing the new brigade trail between Lac la Hache and Kamloops.”

“Go upstairs and wait for me," he ordered her. Kate stopped, taken off guard by the velvet undertones in his deep voice. She forgot her anger for a heartbeat, arrested by the promise of pleasure in his smoky eyes; she stood motionless, staring at him but disoriented when the drug swept her up in its most disturbing side effect yet. Attraction. Arousal. A fatal fascination with him gripped her. He was beautiful, undeniably, but an utter mystery to her. One she suddenly desired to solve, obsessed as she had always been with finding hidden answers. An impetuous hunger to taste his lips stormed through her blood.”

“The most startling part was that, if he recalled correctly, the DuMarins' medieval ancestor was none other than Valerian the Alchemist--- the same dark wizard who had laid the Kilburn Curse upon his family. This heritage would've made Kate practically royalty among the Prometheans---and could make her all the more dangerous to him. For beyond superstition, the girl seemed uniquely suited to enchant him.”

“To lovers out there …. Love is just feelings. You can feel anything for anyone regardless of how they look and who they are. It doesn’t care about your intelligence or IQ. That is why everyone qualifies to love and to be loved. Your standards has nothing to do with love. That is why most of your relationships don’t work. You want to use your position, beauty, money, power, life status, education, qualification to measure love. If you continue thinking and living like that. You will find partners, but you will never find love. You are busy fighting your feelings because the people you love don’t have your standards.”

“Her throat interested him greatly, the lovely arc beneath her dainty earlobe, the milky skin, the silken cascade of her perfumed hair... His mind drifted, the wine warming his senses. It had now been three days since he'd had a woman, and he had not forgotten the way she had felt beneath him last night. He still wanted her in spite of himself. Her lips' dewy roses beguiled him, along with the teasing sparkle in those emerald green eyes beneath her black velvet lashes. The candlelight brought out a golden luster in the depths of her light brown hair and danced along the delicate lines of her bare shoulders. Was it wrong to want to lick the caramel sauce out of her splendid cleavage instead of drizzling it politely on the cheesecake? He did his best to keep a tight rein on his dangerous hunger for her, even as his hands tingled with yearning to caress all her creamy, glowing skin. As he took another large swallow of port, he contemplated the fact that there was one sure way to find out if she was really as innocent as she would have him believe. If she was a part of her forebears' sinister conspiracy, it was unlikely that she was a virgin. He was keenly tempted to verify her status for himself by luring her into his bed and finishing what they had started last night.”